Oct 24, 2007 |
by Annette Bridges. © 2007. All rights reserved.
The jet engines were roaring with the promise that take off was fast approaching, and we would soon be on our way. We were beginning the dream vacation we had long been anticipating — a celebration of our 25th anniversary.
The anticipation was so high I could almost feel the sea breeze on my face, smell the salt water and hear the ocean surf.
We looked forward to swimming and snorkeling Maui’s Pacific Ocean waters, activities we both enjoy. We were anxiously awaiting an ocean view — a real treat of a view since we live on a cattle ranch in north Texas and glimpses of the ocean are infrequent.
Throughout my childhood years, my mom thought a trip to the ocean was a cure for anything. Anytime we were struggling with some difficulty or had a major decision looming, my mom would suggest a trip to the ocean in search of peace or direction. Eventually, I began to associate peace of mind, body and spirit as only truly possible when I was by the sea.
I do love to pray sitting by the sea. I can’t help but feel peace-filled in those moments. I’ve begun to liken the seashore to my prayer closet — that kind of closet Christ Jesus instructed us about when he said, “When thou prayest, enter into thy closet…”
Or as “The Message” Bible translates his words, “Find a quiet, secluded place so you won’t be tempted to role-play before God. Just be there as simply and honestly as you can manage. The focus will shift from you to God, and you will begin to sense his grace.”
I think honest communicating with God requires understanding and acknowledging the inseparable bond between me and my divine, eternal Parent. When I trust in His love and presence wherever I am, this helps to quiet anxiety and weariness as I listen for His guidance.
It’s sometimes difficult not to role-play the dramatic scene of the day, starring the stress-filled me, the angry me, the sad me, the bewildered me or some other “me.”
So in my conversations with my Father-Mother God, I find I hear God’s messages clearer when I first speak boldly to the trouble at hand. Like when Jesus calmed the storm at sea declaring — “Peace, be still.”
Apparently, Jesus was sleeping in the rear section of a ship when his disciples woke him alerting him to a bad storm. High winds and waves had become so intense that the ship was getting tossed around pretty bad — enough so the disciples were afraid for their lives. In the gospel of Mark, we read that Jesus got up, “rebuked the wind,” spoke those famous three words — “Peace, be still” — and “the wind ceased and there was a great calm.”
“Peace” was proclaimed with such boldness, as if Jesus was affirming peace as a law of God. A law powerful enough to “still” the high winds and waves. A law, which when enforced, would bring about tranquil, untroubled, undisturbed, harmonious results.
So when I’m confronted with problems, I’ve discovered that a good beginning for my prayers is to contemplate peace as the ever-present, always active and available law of God.
I remind myself that I’m God’s beloved daughter. Created in His image. Reflecting His nature. Good.
I’m encouraged as I remember Father-Mother God is indeed a good and loving parent, forever with me, watching over me, caring for me, guiding me. I only need to listen for His Word to feel his grace embracing me.
This kind of honest communication has always led to solutions, healing, and most definitely . . . peace in my life.
I admit I can hardly wait for our next seaside vacation. But the conviction in my heart tells me to believe firmly that peace is a present possibility, whether I’m at home or by the ocean.
Peace as a law of God is a permanent spiritual peace. Peace that is not dependent on a person or a place. Nor on an occasion or circumstance. And God continuously assures us that this peace is ours. Having a little conversation with God always reminds me that this is true.
Oct 24, 2007 |
by Annette Bridges. © 2007. All rights reserved.
You might wonder how remodeling a house could lead to spiritual insights about life. I was surprised myself at the unexpected twist.
I waited years to remodel our master bedroom. Something was always coming up that demanded our time, attention and money — and we kept putting the remodeling on the backburner. But finally the day arrived and the project was underway.
One special aspect of the master bathroom was a mural surrounding our new tub — painted by a friend, who is a phenomenal artist.
Since my favorite view is of the ocean, my friend created a scene so that when I soaked in the tub I could imagine myself by the water’s edge — with waves crashing, palm trees swaying, sandpipers standing at attention on the sand, and seagulls flying overhead.
A surprise in this seaside picture was an island on the horizon. When I praised my friend’s work, she told me she had not initially planned to paint the island. She had made a mistake with her brush, and in trying to determine how best to correct it, she turned her mistake into an island. It was the perfect addition to an already awe-inspiring painting. Truly, a masterpiece. A glimpse of God’s creation with every detail in its perfect place.
Lately, as I look at her mistake, I realize that I can’t even imagine the scene without it. And this has caused me to reflect on mistakes I’ve made in my life. I’ve wondered what my life would be today without those mistakes.
My most vivid memory of a life-altering mistake was when I was placed on academic suspension from college my freshmen year. Not that the suspension was a mistake but rather the result of my poor study skills and more time spent in social activities than in classes.
For a while, I was devastated and depressed. I was forced to leave my new friends and a new boyfriend and to leave my new home and return to my parent’s home. I didn’t know what to do with my life.
Not long after going back to live with my parents, I received an encouraging letter from my college advisor. She explained that the word “suspend” also meant to “uphold by invisible support.” I could know I was also being supported by the school’s hopes and expectation of my return. I appreciated this definition, as it began to shift my viewpoint from self-pity to looking forward.
I also struggled with guilt. I realized I had made many mistakes in judgment that led to my current plight. I felt horrible. I felt I had let my parents down. Although they were compassionate toward me, I knew they had to be disappointed in me. I know I was.
I felt like I was floundering at the beginning of my adulthood. In search of solutions and encouragement, I turned to the Scriptures and the various writings of Mary Baker Eddy. These resources had supported my prayers in the past. Surely, there would be answers now.
I started keeping a journal. As I studied, prayed, pondered and listened, I wrote in my journal. Quotes. Insights. Questions. Inspirations. Ideas. I also spent time with my parents — praying, reading and reasoning together. Something I had not done in a long time. We had wonderful discussions. I felt blessed for the time we were sharing together.
It was the inspiring ideas in a column titled “Improve your time” by Eddy that changed my point of view from inadequacy and failure to the woman of God’s creating — a woman possessing the ability and talents needed to be successful. She wrote about how to achieve success in one’s life with persistent effort and the improvement of moments — how to stop wasting time and move from indecision about what to do. She said, “If one would be successful in the future, let him make the most of the present.”
Leaving past mistakes behind me, I focused on present possibilities. Soon, a job opportunity presented itself. One that taught me much about unselfish care for others’ needs. I enrolled in a community college, where I took several remedial classes and workshops to improve my reading and writing skills. And I continued to cherish time with my parents.
A few months later, I returned to my home college. Three years later, I earned my Bachelor of Arts degree with the senior class award for “progress.”
Life-changing lessons were learned from the mistakes of my freshmen year. And time spent with my step-dad during those months became all the more precious to me when he passed on shortly after I returned to college. I then saw my time home as a gift. A gift I might not have had without those mistakes that sent me home.
No, I don’t think I can imagine my life today without any of my past mistakes.
Learning from our mistakes, growing wiser because of them, we progress into the masterpiece of God’s beholding. His eternal and constant view of His beloved children — strong, intelligent, loving, healthy. . . good.
Oct 24, 2007 |
by Annette Bridges. © 2007. All rights reserved.
We need only watch or read news headlines to get a depiction of humankind that is not very desirable. One that says the nature of man is dishonest, murderous, corruptible, angry, abusive and presents mankind as victimized — homeless, unemployed, suffering, sick.
So how could Mary Baker Eddy write, “. . . the majesty of Christian Science teaches the majesty of man”? Man, generically speaking — referring to both men and women — hardly appears to be very majestic, princely or noble, at least according to news reports.
To understand her meaning, I’ve had to first reacquaint myself with her explanation of the two words – “Christian Science.” Eddy wrote, “In the year 1866, I discovered the Christ Science or divine laws of Life, Truth, and Love, and named my discovery Christian Science.” And she explained, “The term Science, properly understood, refers only to the laws of God and to His government of the universe, inclusive of man.”
I certainly consider the laws of God to be majestic. The laws of God are surely more exalted and magnificent than any human opinion, fear or viewpoint. Laws of God are spiritual mandates that govern His creation. And what do these laws tell us about His creation?
Well to begin with, I believe they tell us that His creation — which includes you and me — is spiritual in nature. Christ Jesus, who referred to God as Spirit, must have meant this, too, when he said, “The kingdom of God is within you.”
And what is this spiritual nature, this kingdom of God like?
Surely it cannot be unlike God — divine Spirit, the Creator — and would include such qualities as unselfishness, goodness, mercy, justice, health, holiness and love. How could God give us anything less?
So if God has given each of us a majestic, spiritual nature, perhaps it’s up to us to believe this, to understand this, to prove this by “letting” the kingdom of God reign within us.
Eddy gives a useful analogy that I believe helps us understand how to do just that. She describes each of us as a sculptor that is molding and chiseling thought. She says as sculptors, we turn from our marble to our model so we can perfect our conception. But she asks us to consider what model we are looking at.
Do we look at the model that news reports speak of? Or rather, do we look at the model that God sees as His perfect and good creation?
Eddy says if we want to see and experience the majesty of the man God created, we must turn our gaze toward this perfect model and look at this model continually. This, she says, is how we carve out a grand and noble life.
I learned a bit about this process some years back. I used to be told often, “You have your daddy’s temper.” And I must admit I did lose my temper at times. This would lead to slamming doors, throwing whatever was within my reach and screaming hurtful words that I later regretted.
After getting married and having a child, I wanted to change this pattern of behavior. I think I had accepted temper as a response in which I had no choice. It seemed so uncontrollable.
It was Eddy’s analogy of the sculptor that helped me understand that I did have a choice in my thoughts and actions. And she helped me see how my thoughts were determining my actions. I realized that I had accepted a model of abusive and uncontrollable temper for myself, and I was reproducing it again and again in my life.
So, according to Eddy’s sculptor analogy, I learned I needed to choose a new model — the woman God created. One who is poised, full of grace, patient, composed, just, gentle and loving. And as I have successfully focused on this better model, I’ve been able to control my temper.
I’m not saying I never ever get angry about anything. In those times, I find it helpful to try very hard to take a prayer pause before I act and examine my thoughts and actions. Asking God for direction on thoughts and actions doesn’t require a lot of time. In fact, the answer comes as quickly as I pause. And I realize a temper fit is not the appropriate response for a woman of God’s creating. I can’t remember the last time I lost my temper in an uncontrollable rage.
Even though news reports suggest otherwise, I don’t believe God leaves us at the mercy of evil to confuse and misguide us in our behavior and actions. God is surely always with us at every moment to guide us up the right path. Up the path that leads us to the majesty of man.
I think it’s up to us to choose this path!
Oct 24, 2007 |
by Annette Bridges. © 2007. All rights reserved.
Have you ever considered yourself to be like Leonardo? You know — the famous Italian Renaissance artist and inventor, Leonardo Da Vinci. Being like Leonardo means you’re on a lifelong quest to find answers to all your questions.
Do you believe dreams can be turned into realities? Do you, like Leonardo, believe anything is possible? At any age, I might add.
In other words, are you a possibility thinker?
Recently, I’ve been trying to convince my husband that he needs to become a possibility thinker. In his case, he’s been ranching and raising coastal hay for many years. With two severe droughts back to back, it now seems we may need to explore other avenues for income. This feels difficult since it requires branching out from what is familiar. But there are surely other possibilities if we can just move ourselves into the mode of possibility thinking.
Perhaps we need to ask ourselves, “Where’s our childlike spirit with that unstoppable and boundless curiosity?” I don’t think it’s lost. I think it’s just been covered up with the rigidity, and perhaps comfort, of routine.
I think fear of failure often holds us back from trying something new. Or other fears grip us, such as fear of change or fear of the unknown. I can think of many times when fear of failure paralyzed my actions.
In elementary school, when softball was the sport of the day, I kept sneaking to the end of the line to avoid going to bat. In high school, I never auditioned for parts in school musical productions. In college, I wouldn’t raise my hand and tried to avoid eye contact with professors during class discussions. Since college, I haven’t applied or submitted my resume for some of the job opportunities that have come my way.
I’ve wondered how often fear of failure held me back and made me avoid new situations and experiences. Or how often fear of failure kept me from reaching my full potential and stopped me from even trying to accomplish my dreams.
I’m reminded of an old saying, “Whether you think you can, or think you can’t, you’re probably right.”
If you’ve been reading my columns, you know that I’m a Star Wars movie fan. An incident in the 1980 Star Wars episode, “The Empire Strikes Back,” illustrates the idea of possibility thinking.
When asked to raise his sunken star fighter from the Dagobah swamps, Luke Skywalker responded he would try. “No,” scolded Yoda. “Do or do not. There is no try.” But Luke was not certain the Force could lift such a massive object. And indeed, he failed.
Yet Yoda, using the Force, did lift the x-wing fighter and place it on dry land. Luke exclaimed, “I don’t believe it.” And Yoda said, “That is why you fail.” Or as Mary Baker Eddy might explain it, “It is insincerity and a half-persuaded faith that fail to succeed and fall to the earth.”
Christ Jesus taught us much about the need for faith. One time his disciples failed to heal a child and brought the boy to Jesus who then healed him. The disciples asked Jesus why they couldn’t heal him. And Jesus told them because of their “unbelief.”
Jesus said we could “move mountains” if only we had faith. And that we only needed faith as big as a “grain of mustard seed.” He assured us that nothing would be impossible if only we had a little bit of faith.
The power in possibility thinking is becoming clearer. A possibility thinker is one who has faith that anything truly is possible. Who doesn’t let fear of failure stop them from taking action or from trying something new and different from anything they have done before.
A possibility thinker dares to imagine. He doesn’t let perceived limitations, such as age — or even drought — stand in his way. He doesn’t allow past failures to halt present actions. He doesn’t view failures as mistakes but rather lessons learned. So, he continues moving forward on his life journey. He never gets stuck in idle and overcome with regrets.
A possibility thinker is persistent, confident, determined and optimistic. She doesn’t let discouragement take hold. She enjoys new challenges. She has faith that there is a solution — and that she need only be committed to its pursuit.
Leonardo Da Vinci was clearly a possibility thinker. He imagined the possibility of flying machines, armored tanks, shoes that could walk on water and plastic — centuries before these possibilities became realities. He never gave up his search for solutions, and he never stopped trying to make his dreams into realities. His desire to learn was tireless and endless. Failures merely told him to take a new approach.
My husband and I are not yet sure what we’ll be doing in the future. But I think we’re ready to put fears of uncertainty and age behind us to consider the infinite possibilities — and be like Leonardo!
Oct 24, 2007 |
by Annette Bridges. © 2007. All rights reserved.
It was a dog-day afternoon, as we say in Texas. The thermometer outside our farmhouse was registering 101 degrees . . . in the shade. Me and my dachshund didn’t want to do anything but nap on the sofa.
Scarcity of rain began in the spring and has continued into the summer months. The cracks in our ground and nearly-dry stock ponds remind us just how thirsty we are. My husband sold a few more cows this morning — another reminder of the impact of a disproportionate dose of heat and drought.
As we move into August, which is normally the season for dry and hot days, our ranch is looking pretty bleak and brown.
One need only turn on the television, while trying to cool off in the air conditioning, to feel even more like we inhabit a world out of control — raging fires, turbulent storms, rocket and bomb blasts, rampant random violence, and skyrocketing oil prices.
But is this the picture of a world created and governed by a good and loving divine Parent? Sometimes it may seem difficult to know if our prayers can really make a difference.
I’m not going to pretend to offer the perfect prayer to solve all the chaos in our world, but I simply cannot accept that life is subject to chance or uncertainty. Since God is omnipotent, it seems to me He can’t be powerless on certain occasions or over certain conditions.
So, an affirmation of God’s presence, goodness and power begins my every prayer.
Do we doubt the power of our prayers or do we expect healing results? I wonder what Jesus would say. Mary Baker Eddy, author of several books based on the teachings and healings of Christ Jesus, wrote, “He would mightily rebuke a single doubt of the ever-present power of divine Spirit to control all the conditions of man and the universe.” If we harbor a view of prayer as futile, why continue to pray? Eddy said discouragement with our prayers resembles “a pupil in addition, who attempts to solve a problem of Euclid, and denies the rule of the problem because he fails in his first effort.”
I find it helpful, when I’m feeling overwhelmed by the enormity of some situation, to recall times past when prayer did have a positive and transforming effect. I often reason that if prayer — affirming the power of God and his divine laws governing the universe — helped in those instances it must surely help in this one.
As I rested on my sofa today, I started thinking back on other times when situations seemed out of our control, but I was certain prayer saved the day. Such as the many times our hay bales were saved from ruin because approaching rain dissipated before reaching our fields. Or the many instances when my husband’s faith, patience and perseverance nurtured a cow back to health. Or the time a newborn calf, almost frozen in an ice storm, survived with a hot bath and lots of love and prayer.
I’m sure everyone can think of experiences in their own lives when the power of prayer removed doubts and fears and brought healing.
I realize when pictures of tragedies, devastation and despair fill the airwaves or our communities, it’s easy to consider the age-old question — “How could God allow this to happen?” But there are always stories of survival and healing that protest, “He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He didn’t.” And it’s these healing examples that keep me praying and hope-filled.
I love the 23rd Psalm. I often think about the fifth verse that says the Lord will prepare a table before us in the presence of our enemies. So in other words, we are promised a “table” in spite of the presence of our enemies.
This says to me that no matter how dire the situation I may be facing, I can be assured of God’s healing power and loving presence right there in that moment. That there is truly no condition or situation where God, divine Love, cannot reach me and rescue me. Or as Mary Baker Eddy wrote, “Can God furnish a table in the wilderness? What cannot God do?”
Already this summer, even though we don’t have the promise of money earned from hay sales, an unexpected job opportunity has become available for me. And I have no doubt that God will continue to provide as many “tables” in this dreary Texas wilderness as we, and others, need.
