Two gifts

October 2, 2019

(Originally published on my Facebook page March 28, 2019)

Yesterday I took my “studio assistant,” Denver, for a walk through some woods near my home. At the edge of a field I received a gift, given freely by an unknown giver who used white stones to create a heart and peace symbol. I gave thanks, took a quick picture and moved on. This morning as I looked at the photo, I noticed a second gift. At the exact brief moment I was there, the late afternoon sun had shone on a single flower and cast a shadow that looked like a dove. To both givers, I thank you.

May I give good gifts.

Peace and Joy...and Good Gifts,

Jeff

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Mar 12, 2020

Fear

Mar 12, 2020

“Fear”

I made a new friend recently. I’ve known him most of my life, but never as a friend. It was an evil monster I hated and tried to destroy. It was my fear.

For decades, my fear tripped me, poked me, and argued with me. It mumbled and whispered, just to make sure I knew it was there. Too often it screamed in my ear. I’ve ignored, denied, cursed, and shushed it. And I really thought I was listening to it when I blindly obeyed its orders. But I was wrong.

After what could be confused as coincidences, I finally sat down beside it and asked it what it wanted. From under an old army-green blanket, with eye holes unevenly cut, crawled a six-year old version of me, holding a broomstick sword and a dented pan lid.

“I’m protecting you,” he said, with eyes big and wide. I choked up. Loyal and vigilante, he took his mission seriously, ready to defend me to the death. What he lacks in discernment, he more than makes up with memory. He remembers everything. He has seen me suffer, cry, feel embarrassed and ashamed, and he never wants to see it again. My fear turned out to be one of the most caring, tender-hearted souls I have ever known. But he is forever stuck at six years old. He can’t see over the fence or reach the flashlight. He thinks a mop head is a monster. And he’s exhausted. He needs to rest, he needs to play, and he needs me to watch over him.

So, instead of fighting him, now I give him hugs. There are still scary things in the world, but that’s for me to decide, not him. I still plan to listen when he tugs at my sleeve. After all, he has experience, I need an extra set of eyes, and he needs to feel important. But not like the old days. This time, I’m the protector, and he’s a six year old little boy who needs to play. He’s earned it. He’s still a little reluctant, but he smiles up at me when I tell him, “You rest now, I’ve got this.”

I wish all of you rest from fear, and as always, Peace and Joy,

Jeff

Mar 12, 2020