Where is home?

Recently, my father put up his house for sale as the place is a little too much upkeep for he and my stepmother.  They will be starting over in a new town a few hours away.  This house was the last place my mother lived in before she died.  Strangely enough, the sale of the house feels a little bit like losing her all over again.  I feel somewhat sad walking through the home and seeing touches of her and knowing that they will soon be forever gone.  It feels like another chapter of my life is closing.

I, too, seem to be starting over again.  Moving to another new place and feeling very…lost.  Just today, I heard a song that stirred melancholy memories and I suddenly had an overwhelming sense of wanting to go “home.”  But then the thought came to me “Where is home?”

The home my parents lived in is soon to be gone and because I’m not married, nor do I have a significant other, nor have children of my own, I don’t really have what most people consider a normal “home.”  For various reasons, I have moved almost every year for the last 20 years of my life.  I have yearned for a place to put down roots and to have a family of my own, but that has not seemed to be in the eternal plan of things.  At least not at this point in my life.

I have often wondered why I was called to wander this planet.  Why was my life not “normal” like most of my friends and family?  I, too, had sought what others had sought: financial stability, love, family and a home of my own where I could raise children, but for some reason only known to Fate and God, that was not my path.  I have, at times, thrown myself what I call a “boo-hoo” party where I began to feel sorry for myself.

But then I remember something…

There is an old cliche that goes “Home is where the heart is.”  If that is true, then my home happens to be in several places around the world…for I’ve left a part of my heart with the people and areas I love.  My home is in the islands of Palau, Guam, and Saipan where I served my mission.  My home is in Hawaii where I went to school and fell in love with the culture of a warm, loving, generous people.  My home is in Cartagena, Colombia where complete strangers became my adopted family and best friends.  My home is in Washington state where I was born and spent much of my childhood and where I made lifelong friendships.  My home is in Rotterdam, California, Canada, Boston, New York and several other parts of the world where friends and family live.  My home is in England where I have met and made some wonderful relationships that will touch me for the rest of my life.  And last but not least, my home is in Utah where I have many memories of family and friends who have graced me with their love for many years.

So I realized that while I may not have a “home” in the normal sense,  I have a “home” wherever the people I love are living.

I think this just may make me the luckiest person in the world.

Deep Autumn

There is a time around the middle of November when the natural world seems to fold in quietly upon itself as if to prepare for hibernation.  The glorious, blazing colors of Autumn have begun to fade and the winter snows have not yet covered the ground.  Landscapes of various shades of brown meet our eyes and gray, blanketing clouds cover the skies.   All seems to be preparing for winter’s long rest.

As a child, it was the time of the year I enjoyed the least (except for the Februwearies), but as an adult, it is one of those quiet times I have learned to love.  This is because everywhere I look, nature shows me how to slow down, be still and find peace in my busy, stressful life.

Yes, there are storm-tossed days when the wind tears at your hair and jacket and the cold rains, sometimes mixed with snow, dance on your face.  Leaves “scatter like before the wild hurricane flies” and you will see humanity braving the winds and rains as they rush along the sidewalks or to their cars.

But more often than not, the days are calm with a pale Autumn sunshine and hazy clouds.  Leaves curl up on a tree like a child curled under blankets,  the bright sun gives way sooner to the calming night, even the overflowing streams of spring and summer slow down to a trickle.

Nature seems to call one to reflection, to ponder the year slipping away and what is to come.  In the stillness of an Autumn twilight, if one is very quiet, one can feel that whisper of nature that tells you it’s time to slow down and reflect.

Ssshhhh…can you hear it?

The Storm and the Stars

The Storm and the Stars

Recently, while taking an evening stroll, I glanced out over the valley and paused on a hillside.  Above me and all around me the stars were shining, but just off in the distance, I could see the shimmer of lightning from a storm that had passed by only an hour or so before.

As I stood on that hillside, the phrase “the storm and the stars” ran through my head.  Again, I could see a clear metaphor for my life over the past few years.  For a very long time, all I could see and hear were the storms around me.   Each tragedy was like a violent, loud thunderclap and each hopeful endeavor flickered like a quick flash of lightning but soon disappeared leaving nothing but darkness and disappointment.  At times, the storms would quiet and there would be nothing but clouds above my head.  Still I could not see the stars…I could not see the light.

Once in a while, a flash of starlight would beam through a break in the storm clouds of my life, but it was often fleeting.  Yet, it was those hints of light that kept me going.  Little moments of happiness, moments of courage, and moments of insights…those were my flashes of starlight.

But that night, as I stood on the hill and watched the storm depart in the distance, surrounded by the immensity of heaven and the stars, I realized that the storms had also departed from my life.  Have they departed for good?  No…but they have departed for now.

With a deep sigh of relief, I looked up at the stars.  My heart filled with gratitude and I whispered “Thank you” to the vast universe above me.  And I swear I could have heard someone respond quietly “You’re welcome, my child.”

~God’s in his heaven, all is right with the world.~ 

Cloud Watcher

 

I’m a cloud watcher.  I first heard that phrase from a woman many years ago.  We were walking along a road on the beautiful island of Oahu at sunset.  As we walked, we looked up at the clouds and commented on how amazing they were.  She then said “I’m a cloud watcher.” 

 

Ever since that night, that phrase has stayed in my mind: cloud watcher.  Literally speaking, it means to study the clouds: the shapes, the colors and the magnificence of them.  I find myself standing motionless at the various splendor of colors during sunrises and sunsets, thrilling to the intensity of black thunderstorms and sometimes, just admiring a lazy white cloud drifting over a mountain top.

 

Yet I think “cloud watcher” is also a metaphor.  Have you ever just stood there, the colors of the clouds passing in front of your eyes, and you found yourself daydreaming about the future?  I know when I look up at the sky, it is often to meditate about a current situation, to daydream, to remember or to pray.  So I guess you could say a cloud watcher is also a dreamer. 

 

And to dream is also to hope: for improved health for a loved one, for a promotion at work or possibly a different job, to win that game, to pass that class, or to find the love you hope to spend the rest of your life with.  Whatever it is, you hope for a life that is better than the one that you are living at that moment. 

 

To hope…to dream…to be a cloud watcher. 

 

So the next time you take that quiet moment from life’s pressing duties to stop and admire the panorama of the sky, you can also proudly say “I’m a cloud watcher.”   

  

 

 

Hope

(This is dedicated to all my friends who, at this time, are struggling with the difficulties of life and finding hope again.)

Recently, I was discussing with a friend about all the negative experiences that we as people go through: abuse, betrayal, broken hearts, and so much more.  As I spoke with her, I realized that almost everyone we know goes through deep pain…everyone.  These experiences we have can leave us feeling worthless, rejected and hopeless.  I would know as I have felt all of those feelings.  Struggling through the darkness and depression can leave us feeling as if we don’t even wish to get out of bed in the morning.

A couple of weeks ago, I had just been rejected, again, by another man due to my religious standards of dating.  I was feeling very down about relationships, my financial situation and much of my life.  After work, I drove up into the mountains, found a quiet place and sat and meditated for a long time.  I found myself having a long conversation with my Father in Heaven.  I spoke of my fears, my worries, my feelings of rejection, of not being good enough and of hopelessness.  For at that moment, I truly did feel hopeless.  I looked at my past and saw that generally, things hadn’t changed much.  I was still much in the same place, both financially and romantically, that I had been years and years before.  I felt that the road stretched straight out in front of me and things would never change.

But as the tears ended and I begin to quiet my mind, I took a moment to look around me.  Pine trees stood tall, old and full of wisdom.  The stream bubbled encouragement and an eagle soared above my head inspiring me to look up with hope.  I closed my eyes and as I did so, I felt peace flow down through me.  I was reminded once again of who I am.  I am important to my Father in Heaven, for I am his daughter.  I am not forgotten.

I was reassured once more that my Father knew of my situation and that he did have a plan for me.  I began to feel hope once more…a small flickering candle flame of hope, but it was still there.  To remind myself not to give in to that feeling of hopelessness again, I reached down and took a small rock from the stream and named it my “hope rock.”

Before I left my solitary, secret and peaceful place, I looked up at the sky and thanked Him for my blessings and said “I am content.”  And I was.  Though nothing had changed, my attitude had changed.  I knew in my head that things could possibly change at some point…when God was ready.  But in the meantime, I had loving friends and family, a job that paid my bills, and a life that really wasn’t all that bad.

As I drove down the canyon, I received a phone call.  Not known to anyone, I had applied to become a plus size model.  I didn’t think anything would come of it, which is why I kept it to myself.  As I talked to this woman (who is now my modeling agent) about this completely new idea, I realized that my prayers had just been answered.  Previous words I had written came floating back to me “What if life still held possibilities that I had not even dreamed of?”  and also “With His help, my life might mean something greater than it does at the moment.”

All of a sudden, I began to see the light.  I began to see my life taking twists and turns I had never even thought of.  And I thought to myself “So there ARE more bends in the road,” and I smiled.  I don’t know where this new adventure will take me, but I know this…it will be fun finding out.

My friends, hope is always there, it’s just that sometimes you have to dig a little deeper to find it.   Your hope, at this moment, might be a flickering candle flame, but don’t let it burn out.  Instead, let someone help you to shield it, protect it and help it to grow.

“Weeping endureth for the night, but joy cometh in the morning…”

Wading Through the Mud

My entries have been pretty serious and reflective of late, so I decided to lighten this one up with a funny memory. 

While living in Cartagena, Colombia, I taught English at a bilingual school.  This school was located about 10 miles away from the city.  This was done on purpose as a protection to the students who often came from wealthier parents.  And it was actually very pleasant to get away from the noise of the city and enjoy the farmlands and countryside. 

One day, towards the end of the school year, the teachers were finishing grades and correcting tests.  The students were officially off for the year, so some of the workers were not there.  Unfortunately, I (and a few other teachers) had missed the announcement that both the cafeteria and school store would be closed.  Essentially, this meant no lunch. I suppose I could have waited until I arrived home around 4:00 pm to eat, but I was hungry as I’d had very little for breakfast. 

So proceeded the adventure to find lunch.  I went outside of the school to ask one of the workers where they usually bought their food. They said that there was a house “just a little ways down the road” where I could go and order lunch.  I said ok and set off, not knowing what to expect.  (The picture below is an actual photo of the road I took.) 

 

I had walked about 10 minutes when I suddenly encountered a very muddy patch.  It crossed the entire road and went well into the weedy grasses on the side.  I looked down at my flip-flops and looked again at the very large mud hole I would have to wade through.  Some parts of the road had dried out and undaunted, I thought I could make it.  I was only about halfway through when I lost my balance and my right foot fell into a very deep, muddy hole.  I tried to pull my foot out and could hear the squish as the mud sucked down my flip-flop.  I groaned as I now had to put my hand down into the mud to get out my shoe.  It was too late to turn around at this point and knowing the rest of the mud was just as bad, I finally just took off my shoes and walked barefoot through the ankle-high red mud. 

Images of what was in that mud kept running through my mind: parasites, cow manure, and so much more.  (Fortunately, I did not acquire any dreaded disease.)  I finally reached the makeshift wooden gate of the farmhouse where I went to order my food.  Needless to say, the people that lived in the small, worn-down, cement farmhouse were shocked to see a white woman with mud up to her calves and all over her hands come walking carefully down their path.  They immediately found me a place to wash up (which was really quite useless since I had to go back the way I came) and sat me on their best chair on their porch.  Even though she had finished cooking for the day, this good woman ran back to prepare spaghetti, rice, and fried plantains over her outdoor fire.  The food was good and filling and the hospitality was excellent…a five-star farmhouse. 

As I finally made my way back to the school, once again covered with red mud, the workers laughed and I joined right in.  I knew I made quite the picture, but my sense of humor got the better of me at the irony of the whole situation.  Here was an American who was used to the cleanest of eating establishments, now half-covered with mud and eating like the locals.  It was a wonderful moment and I have seldom enjoyed eating a meal more.

Innocence lost…and found

Many talk about innocence “lost” and when it’s once lost, it can never be regained.  I disagree with that statement. 

When I was young, Mom and Dad were always right…fairies were real…and a new coloring book and new box of crayons were about the best thing next to candy.  Christmas and Halloween were the most exciting days of the year.  And sometimes there was absolutely nothing as wonderful as laying on the grass, on a warm spring day, staring at the clouds. Shapes in the clouds would get blurry and fade as I closed my eyes and got lost in daydreams about all the possibilities that life held. 

I remember while growing up that faith was an easy thing.  God heard all my prayers and answered them.  It was as simple as that.  Life was pretty much black and white with lots of bright colors to make it exciting.  There was no such thing as a “grey area.”  I believed in love at first sight, “happily ever after”, and fairytales.  Innocence was a beautiful thing.

Then I grew up.  Reality interfered with daydreams, possibilities and fantasies.  Life no longer seemed fun or exciting, but just a daily stream of duties that had to be accomplished.  There were always good moments, even perfect moments, as stated in an earlier entry, but life had just somehow lost its…magic. 

Recently, though, I was going through some pictures and memories of when I was a child.  I remembered the dreams, the laughter, and the unlimited possibilities that life had held for me once.  I sat there with the pictures spread on my bed, old poems in my hands and I thought “what if?”  What if life still held possibilities that I had not even dreamed of?  What if the magic, mystery and excitement of life were still there?  What if I could believe in miracles again as I did when I was a child? 

With those thoughts in mind, I began to search for those feelings of joy and excitement I once used to know.   And when I searched…I found it.   “It” for me was thrilling to the colors of a summer sunset, the dramatic black clouds in a thunderstorm, the chills I felt while listening to an exquisite line of music, a field of wildflowers covering a hillside, laughing with a child, watching an underdog win a gold medal, holding a newborn, writing a poem, seeing a play, taking a perfect picture, or staring at the full moon in a dark sky and knowing that there were still many mysteries in the universe yet to be solved. 

I found magic in life again, and with it, I believe I found innocence again.  Somewhere, deep inside of me, the magic was always there.  It was just waiting to be set free. 

It’s not always easy to find those feelings when finances, health and relationship problems press in upon me…but the quest, nevertheless, continues.

“Long Lost Child” 

Mindy Gledhill

Dreamer

Deep within my memory
Where the grass grows to my knees
Where sparrows sing, and all creation speaks to me.

Where clouds rain in noonday sky
With castles, kings, and queens
Where hopes and dreams, and angels’ wings are common things

A long lost child falls behind
And now she is miles and miles from the present time
And just like the birds that fly across the sky
She’s been away awhile

Oh, but I will find her, free from all guile
Beautifully wild
Long lost child