Sweeter than Sweet...

What does finding the "Sweet Spot" mean?  The original definition was:

Noun:  the point or area on a bat, club, or racket at which it makes most effective contact with the ball.

Nowadays, it generally means finding that place where the most perfect or optimal results are achieved (Most often it refers to worldly success). We all live for that moment, don't we?  That sweeter than sweet place where our plans come together, everything is wonderfully victorious and all is right with the world.  But...

how often do we find the "Sweet Spot"?  Not often...

Which makes me ponder why?  Why is it so difficult for us to find that place of the most perfect results?  Could one reason be that our idea of "most perfect" is crazy unrealistic?  Do we expect it to be easy peasy...faultless...excessively gratifying...

Is anything worth achieving ever easy, perfect or even entirely enjoyable?  Do we give up the search because it gets too difficult? Some of us do quit when we discover that finding the sweet spot may require years of blood, sweat and tears.  There can be many, many stumbling blocks, painful sacrifices, flawed results, but...if we hang in...if we have faith...

when it is found...felt...achieved...

There is NOTHING, NADA, ZERO like it!  No Sirree!  However...

Worldly achievement is only one aspect.  I don't think the above definitions are entirely complete or accurate.  There is also, a sweet spot of the heart. Those things that are more personal, private, spiritual?  This too, can take countless heart-breaking attempts to find that most perfect place.  But...it is in our most divine moments, right in the middle of our anguish, that we discover God and His full intention for our life and...ultimately

when that "Sweet Spot" is found...felt...achieved...

There is nothing this world can offer that is more GLORIOUS!

The First Act...

So, there we were, my firstborn beautiful, baby girl and I spending our first night at home...

alone...

no nurse to relieve me...

or doctor to encourage me...

no one to support me! 

There's only hubby, blissfully sawing wood in the next room (how did he sleep so peacefully?) while I stared down at this fussy, crying creature in my arms. I didn't want to wake hubby. I didn't want to admit I couldn't handle it, not our first night home!  I was so anxious...I was so tired...I felt like a horrid mother...already!

I'd bathed her, fed her, burped her, changed her and...

NONE OF IT WORKED!!

My sweet, baby girl was not happy and I just didn't know what more I could do to make her happy.  She was stuck with a failure for a mother.  And... where were all those well-wishers who had been in my living room earlier that evening?  The ones who had held and passed my baby girl around like she was some party favour; while fawning and drooling coochy, coochy coo kisses all over her?  Where were they at that midnight hour?  All tucked soundly in their warm beds, not knowing or caring that we were near fit to be tied!

Out of desperation, lack of  a better idea and overwhelming fatigue, I collapsed  into the old fashioned rocking chair that my mom had given me.  There was a slight creak in the wood every time we rocked forward.  Swish, creak, swish, creak, swish, creak...  It was steady, consistent and genuinely...

soothing. 

I could feel myself beginning to relax (despite sweet, baby girl's wails) and my shallow, anxious breathing slowed, slowed...then...miraculously baby girl's cries began to subside.  Her little fists unclenched and I truly felt she was looking up at me in that moment of steady, rhythmic motion and well...thanking me.

Yes indeedy!

I could feel her little body relax, her shakes calm down.  Her little eyes grew heavier, heavier... Oh, bless God and my wonderful mother for the gift of that rocking chair!  Suddenly I knew that we were going to make it through our first night together and in my heart I knew...

if sweet, baby girl and I could do that then we could and would make it through the rest of her life.

I smiled down at my beloved daughter, wiped her tears away (then wiped my tears away!) and rocked, creak, rocked, creak...until we both fell into blissful, blissful sleep.

From the Nursery to the Nursing Home...

Okay, I admit I like to write poetry!  I'm not particularly good at it and I'm certainly no threat to any prominent poet nor...

am I particularly deep, insightful (think Maya Angelou) or intuitive...but, I like to fool around with it now and then.  So, here goes...oh, but first...

General Disclaimer: The following was compiled for my own amusement during (un)reliable moments. It is for entertainment purposes only and is not intended to be taken seriously.

Jake & Jane

Jake & Jane

have brittle bones

barely can they use them.

While Jake does booze

Jane stays loose,

by using a jacuzzi.

Old Mrs Luffet

Old Mrs Luffet

told them to "stuff it!"

Refusing to eat her porridge

The nurse cried, "You'll eat it, or else

we'll force feed it!

Then order you another!"

Made of

What are old men made of?

Stories and mutts

and beer belly guts,

that's what old men are made of.

What are old women made of?

Cookies and pickles

and laughter that tickles,

that's what old women are made of.

Two Old Men

Two old men

sat by the fire

over a snifter of brandy;

Said one old man

to the other old man,

"If I must say, life is dandy!"

Nursing Home

They often sit and wish that they,

could leap right up, then fly away.

To ride upon the wings of hope

to live in dreams the angels wrote.

If they could see beyond this room

 filled with dark and dread and gloom.

Like birds, if they could take to flight

these wings would carry them from sight.

*********************************************************************

Until we meet again...

Before the Fall...

I've been following a loverly, young women's blog and am so impressed with her insights, wisdom and honesty, especially considering her youth.  NOT that you need to be older to have wisdom (I surely know several who are not!) but, often it's life experiences and our journey with Jesus that help us gain insight to live in grace.  If this blog by  Mandy Scarr is any indication of the grace in which she now lives, then she is miles ahead of where I was at her age.  For this I admit a twinge of jealousy but, just a wee twinge!

Anyway, in keeping with my last post regarding time wasters, her most recent posts are tackling the subject of self-discipline, something I believe, that many of us struggle to attain (do check her out).  At least, I struggle...

There was a time (not so long ago) when I would've considered myself quite organized, efficient and disciplined.  At least, about most things.  In fact, it was a point of pride with me.  Huh huh...then four years ago I suffered a serious back injury, requiring surgery and all my organized, efficient and disciplined ways flew out the window!  Yuppers...no longer was I even able to keep up, let alone be smug about it.

But...I did finally have the surgery and although I will likely never be in tip top shape (not that I ever was) I am in far better condition to tackle life once again in a more efficient,organized and disciplined manner.  But here's the thang...

I'M FAILING MISERABLY AT IT!!

I understand I'm not able to do all I use to in the same expedient manner, but honestly if I were any more unproductive I'd be comatose!  Why! Why! Why?  I use to be so darned good at multi-tasking, making the most of my time and well...just remarkable!  Huh huh...

me thinks I found the source of the entire fiasco!  Pride...

Could it be God has been trying to knock me off my high and mighty throne?  Rea..lly? 

 Do I still want to take all the credit for being so self-disciplined?  Yuppers, 'tis true...  I apparently hadn't really been humbled by my loss of efficiency; it was far too easy to blame the injury, the pain.  I may have talked the talk and said my self-discipline was a gift from God, but in truth, I owned it.  It was me...me...me...me...

But, God is full of grace and mercy!  First He got me pondering about time-wasters, then He had me run across Mandy Scarr's blog, then He thumped me with the revelation that my failure to get my act together was...

My Pride...still!

So, here I am finally, humbly asking God if He'd be so kind to show me grace and help me be more disciplined...a fruit of the Spirit.  Amen...