It's an Unfinished Business Thing

Dear America,

"The Lord God said, 'it is not good for the man to be alone.  I will make a helper suitable for him.' Now the Lord Lord God had formed out of the ground all the beasts of the field and all the birds of the air.  He brought them to the man to see what he would name them; and whatever the man called each creature, that was its name..."  Genesis 2:18-19

oh about twelve years ago, this girl was in the midst of a transition, so to speak.  And when I say transition, for an Aries such as I am, it usually comes fast and furious and without any looking back.

Hindsight being what it is -- it's now rather amusing how one thing might end, suddenly, sadly, and with all the emotional somersaults that come with -- and then in a flash, realize oh how great, oh how great thou art, for that path was not mine.  

This is my path.  

This.  

The place where little old gthing finds herself today.  And is it still a work in progress?  you bet, for I am unfinished.

What brought this on?  Where are you going with this G? 

Well, to go back to the origins, it all began with a blank canvas received from a guy I'm no longer with (that was where the fast and furious, referenced above, comes in, right?).  It was part of a birthday present...just before we split in pieces.

And at the time, my immediate response was to just let my little girl paint them all (for he gave me nearly a half dozen in various sizes)...for I wasn't going to even touch them.  So she painted an elephant on one (16 X 20), a mama duck and her ducklings on another (24 X 36!), and that was that for awhile.

Then one day, long after the break up, after the moon and stars realigned in my world, and eventually finding myself coming back around and with my creative spirit rushing up to the surface -- there I was, determined to totally "move on." My thoughts quickened, gathering enough courage to resume dominion over my life once more.  This girl was going to paint something. 

And she did.

It was rather simple, nothing earth shattering; it was a big shell, with a little shell right beside her, against the most beautiful cerulean blue background.  And while this 20 X 24 inch masterpiece bounced from one part of the house to another, depending on my mood, one day a couple years later, my little girl and me found ourselves all packed up with somewhere else to go.  

From there, this picture -- with a name of it's own, if only in my own mind -- was now across town, placed in the entry way, under a small table, almost hidden from view.

Of course, I knew it was there.  And often it would catch my eye, like a sparkly, shiny thing, and it would make me smile...for I knew it's name.  And I knew what happened inside me on the day it was born.

On the day it was born, it signified significant change in me.  But even so, there it sat, nearly out of sight and under a table,  for years and years...until about two weeks ago.

In the midst of developing a picture wall -- beginning with the placement of three framed photos of my girl, choosing some gorgeous snapshots of her trip to Salta, Argentina -- the instant messaging from the universe told me to put up the shells.  

And I did.

And it was good.

But not good enough.

Looking around, all of a sudden an ah-ha moment ambushed me from out of nowhere.  There it was.  Sitting under another tabletop, in the accompaniment of a bunch of antique books, was a little something I framed for sentimental reasons.  When we had to put our Boston down, BooBoo, in 2015, one of the condolences received was this beautiful card.  In splashes of pink and gold and jade, posies framed a few words from Ecclesiastes, "there is a time for everything under heaven." 

So the wall continued to build, organically and wonderfully; first a row of three black framed prints, then the 20 X 24 shells, then the itty bitty 5 X 7 humdinger at the top, reigning supreme an idea worthy of screaming from the mountaintops -- prescribing taking life as it comes!  For until we are finished, we are all unfinished and a work in progress, good, bad or indifferent.  There truly is a time for everything under heaven.

And it was good.

But not good enough.

It was time...

So sitting under the wall of pictures, the snapshots of life and times and memories and magnificence, my urge to finish something started twelve years ago came over me.  

The shells needed a name, the name that was locked inside my head since the very first brushstroke.

"mother and child"

And in the process of painting its name, the finishing touches of puff-paint, in glorious swooshes of curly q's and swirls, began to twirl on top of the shells in free abandon.  My hand and eye were bouncing from one edge of the canvas to another so fast and furious, it was a wonder this girl could even find the self control to stop.

But she did.

And it was good.

And I'm pretty sure, it's finished -- this blank canvas has met it's maker and it is done. (I think)

And in this moment, I must thank a guy named John Gray, of John Gray's World, for the inspiration back behind this day; you, my dear soul, are a Godsend.  For yesterday, I sat there listening to John Gray and his message -- just one within a series of messages that he has named, "Dominion" -- with my mind blown.  For in no uncertain terms -- no gray to be seen nor found -- John Gray explains in black and white our essential birthright, given to us by God.  (And referring to the very verse in Genesis found up top, at the start of this day...)

In order to live a solid, secure, life under God, and in the way the world made expressly by God was designed -- a world that flourishes in goodness, and charity, and blessings, and anchored with hard work and diligence and activity -- we must come out from under the table and take dominion over our life.  

In the beginning, man -- as in mankind -- was given the power to name things, to take dominion over the animals of the earth, giving each one a name.  And as Gray points out, while honoring God in every word, each of us was given our own garden to plant, to create, to build, to name, by the power of the Holy Spirit.   

We were not born to be placed under a table, sub-par and out of sight; we were made in God's image to take dominion over our lives...not from a place of arrogance, but from a place of gratitude and grace, knowing we are children of the Almighty, Omniscient,  Creator of all things Divine.  We ARE one of those things.  This earth, this country, is a gathering place of cerulean souls and opalescent dreams; a place where heaven and earth meet and find a way to come to life, individually and collectively, over time and generations.

On a larger canvas, America is the creation of Divine Intelligence meeting up with the unique divinity within our founders.  At one time, the canvas was blank, empty, ready for the revolution to march across the vast landscape of things to be and not to be; every generation comes chock full of seasons which come and go and have their way with us under the light of day or the cover of night.

So be it.

In the last twelve years -- 

in the time it took for me to gain the courage, to meet my obstacle of a broken spirit, and see it come back to life right before my very eyes, although not all at once; and now, being at this place, that purposely elevates it to such heights on my living room wall, and thereby, making the things that matter, the things that give meaning and relevance to everything under heaven for me, so clear, and not only that, my own personal centerpiece --  surely, I am not the only one experiencing a transformation of transition....

America has come through the second administration of Bush, an entire eight years of Obama, and is beginning a brand new season with Trump.   

The irony is, the revolution, the changes, the evolution of a living masterpiece in America, will live to see another day and in all the days to come, until such time it is finished -- not according to mankind -- but according to the Lord.  This is a given.  It is settled science.   And God already knows how and when it ends.

The thing that rings most loud and true, is our unique ability to become something. As individuals and as countrymen, we seem to meet crossroads of where we go from here every single day.  The canvas keeps building upon an idea, and another, and another.

This can be overwhelming, this power to name who we are, deciding where we go and what we stand for in every moment, and becoming a choice that lives and breathes and carries its own life force all its own.  It is a great responsibility.  

IT is our duty and delight, really. 

" a time to be born, and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot...a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them....a time to keep and a time to throw away...a time to be silent and a time to speak...a time for war and a time for peace."   

Just a spattering of seedlings from Ecclesiastes 3

Long, long time ago, my parents gave me a name....Gretchen.  

I gave my girl a name, on the day she was born, too.

I gave my love for her a name, on the day when the shells eventually came out from under the table and displayed in the center of our home..."mother and child."

I gave my creative spirit a name, upon this blog, proclaiming the day in the life of this American girl, ain't nothing but a gthang, baby...

And from this day forward, my aim is to continue to create the things worthy of giving it a name; for God gave each and every one of us a unique ability, the abundance of resources (even if unseen to the naked eye), and an enterprising spirit inside us, to take dominion over our life and make it good.

 

Emphasis on good.

Even though this blog has come to the end of the day, the day has only just begun and is yet unfinished --  just as I am unfinished [to the extent of that, only God knows how far this girl has to go from here...teehee).  Just as there is a time to write and a time to play, there is a time to work; and surely as the day is long, the time to work must come before the time to wine.   Besides, the work must get finished before we can call it done and give it a name...

Make it a Good Day, G

Dear America,

Life gives us exactly what we make of it; our level of commitment, to nourish and sustain us, is at the core; while the seed of our expectations, planted at the very start, gives us everything we ever really need to know.

This morning I am fascinated by our "level of commitment" to Afghanistan; over the last ten years, it has ebbed and flowed, it's been up and down, it's captured our attention, and then poof!, out of sight out of mind and then back again.

For the United States, it has settled in an uncomfortable position to say the least; we are damned if we do and damned if we don't, and would hate to risk it either way.  We have one foot in and one foot out,  do the hokey pokey and we turn ourselves about...

How can we say in one breath, we are out July 2011, and in the very next, be on our knees committed to a marriage for a lifetime, if that's what it takes?  It just doesn't make sense.  We simply can't have it both ways.

Then there is Hamid Karzai, who in a real stunner happened to say this yesterday -- mind you, while at a press conference to calm the nation's nerves...and I QUOTE:  "If there is anything we can do, call us."

What?

Seriously?

We have our warriors in your backyard to fend off the growth of radical Islam terrorists planted amongst the poppy fields, and you act like the neighbor next door, offering what appears to be an insincere sentiment without the stamina or will to back it up?  Oh yes, let me know if you need anything...cup of sugar, I'm there for ya...

His comment almost made me laugh, if it weren't for the sinking feeling in my gut that we are in the wrong place at the wrong time, while if we are not 'in it to win it' no matter what it takes, it would be highly recommended for us just to get out.  Now.  As fast as we can.

Our level of commitment is everything.

In the very same evening, I happened to jump to the PBS News Hour -- and all I can say now that I'm looking back -- it must have been Divine Providence leading me out of the desert, or something.

There he was, a guy named Wes Moore.  An articulate, handsome, breath of fresh air; a tall glass of water to quench my weary soul, indeed. He was exactly what I needed.

Wes wrote a book -- of which I am doing something I would not normally do -- by recommending it before I've read it myself.  Look for The Other Wes Moore today, and buy it.  Support this man and his foundation, built upon a simple premise, there were two roads... one took the high, the other took low.

Without reading it, as lame as it sounds, I can just tell you my expectations of value are on high alert for this one; for this man is the very example of living his expectations, rising above challenges and making something of himself.  For the two "Wes Moore's" were of startling similar backgrounds:  both from single mothers, both from the same inner city neighborhood, both with the same inclination towards drugs and gangs, and both with the same prospects of getting out...or so we thought.

Yes, both boys played with fire, committed petty crimes at an early age, and seemed all but a lock in for taking the road commonly traveled by an African-American boy of these highly suspect and tenuous surroundings.  However, one boy had a mother who had a dream for him to be different -- and believed he could.  On a wing and a prayer, she sent him off to a military school to set him straight, if you will, and give him a foundation to carry him into a life of higher aspirations.  And it worked.

Years down the road, this Wes comes home to find his mom mumbling about some other Wes Moore; turns out there are these posters up all over the neighborhood, bearing a picture with the forewarning that "Wes Moore may be armed and dangerous" and to steer clear.

Well, the long story short, is that Wes Moore, captured by the happenstance of the two worlds of the same but different converging, wrote a book about The Other Wes Moore -- reaching conclusions that our expectations shape our lives in unimaginable ways -- and in looking back, he could very well have been this other Wes Moore. 

The Other Wes Moore sits in jail today, having been the outcome of what Wes refers to as "making unforgivable [bad] decisions."  But the point is they came nearly from the exact same seed by all accounts, and could have been twins, if not for the internal push from within to become something better, and to believe and expect that he could by the strength and conviction of a mother who wished harder for him than  for herself.

Sure, luck may play a part; being in the right place at the right time maybe.  Perhaps a few caring souls along the way, integrally involved at all levels to help him succeed, sure.  But above all, it took Wes' personal commitment to do the work, the hard work -- and boy did it pay off,  he went on to be a Rhodes Scholar of all things!  He grew to expect great things -- and he did great things; as he said in the interview, "expect to graduate, and you do."

His story, in a word, inspires me; it forces me to stop and pay attention to where my commitments are in my life -- am I committed to what truly grows a better person, today, right now?  What kind of life am I nurturing -- and how may I serve my girl better, or my love better, or my own soul better? How absolute are my expectations, and in turn my actions, in creating the outcome for success or failure, in my own life?  Are both of my feet in, dare I ask, in everything life requires of me? Am I doing my very best, to push myself forward?

Of course, on a grander scale, my heart aches for the path of this country; my mind wanders down the road of financial defeat and insurmountable debt, the absence of good character and of the Wes Moore's of true substance, finding ourselves suddenly at the crossroads -- the lost, disenchanted, and the so called disenfranchised on the one side, coupled with those who recognize the secret within us all and only believe in the something better -- an idea humbly fostered by our forefathers, seemingly terribly lost in translation from one generation to another two hundred and thirty four years later.

It is unimaginable really; how we have all come from the same seed set forth by our founders, and yet here we are, collectively, dying on the vine.

I wish to nurture the mindset of the wiser Wes Moore in us all; I wish to stand for an undying commitment to America, the land of the free, home of the brave -- maker of people like Wes Moore, the Wes Moore who wrote a book about The Other Wes Moore -- planting seeds of greatness, shedding a little light on those of us who need a little help, providing us with a gentle reminder of what we are made of, our potential, sprinkling us with inspiration and the push to burst forth with both feet firmly planted, committed for all seasons, everlasting.

Make it a Good Day, G