A Note From the Author

Dear Friends and Family,

Thank you for visiting Naphtalis Land.  There are some exciting new changes coming this month. Please be patient while the updates are taking place.  You can still visit to catch up on anything you missed but there won't be any new posts for a few weeks.  Enjoy your Sunner!

Riddles and Rhymes

What so fun about blank spaces

Making up chaotic grids

Or dismembered objects

That we just can’t seem to fix

 

Metal rods bent just so

Sadistically entangled

Aisles of endless paths that end

In 90^o angles

 

What is the lure that calls us to

Seek out the sheer frustration

 

That's disguised as

            Entertainment and/or relaxation

 

Are we challenging our minds

Or secretly competing

With everyone who’s gone before us

The thought is quite intriguing

 

Crosswords, mazes, cubes perplex us

Numbers, shapes and puzzles vex us

We reason, guess and calculate

Applying logic, law and faith

 

To find the answer someone knew

But disguised to hide from view

Challenging us to search and find

By paths known only in their mind

 

Meant to question and to seek

To find the wisdom of belief

 

The wonders of the mind of man

Are formed in us by God’s own hand

 

So through the mazes of this life

Misunderstandings, pain and strife

We can be guided by His light

When we recieve the mind of Christ

Storm's End

Thick stillness welcomes a shroud of clouds

The sunlight dims to disguise the hour

 

The leaves rustle like a nervous laugh

Before the wind chooses a path

 

Silently with a stroke of light

That flashes a warning of its might

 

A distant growl becomes a roar

Revealing the flashes at their source

 

They shake the ground and slap the sky

Releasing torrents in a violent tide

 

The wind then choosing its fickle path

Stretches its power across the land

 

Scarring the earth as though a knife

Cutting through homes and hopes and lives

 

With silent flashes like a bitter scowl

It pulls away its tattered shroud

 

That was torn by light regaining power

Scattering the clouds and revealing the hour

 

The suns shining rays are at first subdued

As they filter through the colorful hues

 

Drawn by His hand a promise renewed

Of His steadfast love and a hope that’s true

 

Stretching across the battered earth

             Beauty for ashes promised by His word

 

               Greater than storms that sweep through our lives

                Is the healing power of His glorious light

Mothers Day or A Place Like No Other

Todays about Mothers

            Those here and those gone
            To honor, remember and thank them for all
          
            Beginnings don’t matter
            The time, place or source
              To love as a mother she made the choice
 

              No matter how many

            She holds in her heart
              There’s a place never shared that was yours from the start

               It’s all about you there

               You are treasured and known
               No matter the distance it is always your home

               It’s filled with her prayers

               Her hopes and her dreams
               For your needs to be met and your goal’s to be reached

               How can I be sure

               That all this is true
                I’m not just a daughter, I’m a mom too

I Am Sorry Officer But I Just Can't Do That or Oh Lucy IV

My husband and I shared our truck until his parents gifted us with their old car.  The only problem was I didn’t know how to drive a stick shift.  I was so anxious to learn that I insisted on having my first lesson the night it arrived.  It was dark and snowy so we drove around the parking lot of a local shopping center to play it safe.

 We only lived a few blocks from the school so I thought it would be good practice to pick up the kids the next day.  Everything was fine until I came to a stop sign on top of a small hill.  School had just let out and there was a line of traffic behind me.  There were no hills in the parking lot the night before and when I tried to release the clutch to move forward, the car rolled backwards.  I took a deep breath and tried a second time but it rolled back again to within a few inches of the car behind me. That driver decided the solution to my problem was to lay on her horn.  Horrified I turned on the flashers, opened my window and waved the cars around me.

Suddenly a squad car pulled up behind us with its lights on.  The officer walked over to my window and asked if the car had broken down.  I had no idea what to say so I answered rather shortly that it had not.  He said that I would have to move along then because I was holding up traffic.  Choking back tears I told him that I just could not do that.  He seemed shocked as I just sat there clutching the wheel. The kids had all but melted under the back seat in humiliation and didn’t say a word. He asked why I couldn’t move and I was forced to tell him the embarrassing truth, bracing myself for whatever penalty I would receive for refusing his order.  Trying not to laugh he kindly told me how to use the emergency break to keep from sliding backwards.  He waited while I tried it and even blocked anyone else from going around me until I was safely underway. I never had the chance to thank him because I had no intention of stopping again until I reached home, but I will never forget him.

To Tell the Truth

The moments I lived for

When my hope was renewed

Were the moments of clarity

When reality met truth

Beyond the confusion

Past the noise in my mind

To a place that was peaceful

Where freedom was mine

I could see with my heart

Others struggle for peace

From that vantage point

I knew just what they'd need

I'd start to invite them

To join me and then

Fears of rejection

Began to seep in

Not wanting the world

To steal my peace

I held out my heart

But just beyond reach

As the guilt and the shame

Grew larger than truth

The clarity dissolved

My confusion renewed

From my sinful place

I can't see past my own

Disappointments and sorrows

Until He calls me home

He shows me the way

Through Forgiveness and Grace

Freely given in Love

Gently growing my faith

Learning to trust

That He'll love me through all

The times that I doubt

And run from His call

Slowly I'm learning

That when He is near

From that place of peace

I have nothing to fear

I can see through His eyes

And reach with His hands

With His words that I share

He will gather His lambs

The moments I live for

Have now become

The moments I’m telling

The world of His Son

A Right Of Passage or That Kid's Got An Arm

                Third in a line of girls, I was forced to give up my position as the baby of the family when my brother was born.  You could tell my Dad was anxiously waiting to teach him about all things male, but growing up with three older sisters wasn’t setting the stage for his rough and tumble future. We all loved holding him and feeding him and he made a great addition to our pretend families when we played house.

 I think all that nurturing was beginning to worry Dad because one day he announced that it was about time for him to be completely done with bottle feeding.  He was a toddler by that time and was only getting an occasional bottle but as a milestone it suddenly became very important.  My brother did not take to the idea and what could have been a war of wills was turned into a unique Right of passage designed by my Dad.  We lived on the banks of the Fox River and we were all called to assemble down by the water’s edge one Sunday afternoon.  My brother came, bottle in hand with my mom and dad.  Dad announced that my brother was now a big boy and big boys did not drink from bottles so he was going to throw his last bottle into the river.  My Dad held his hand to steady him and after a little encouragement my brother threw the bottle into the water.  Cheers all around and that was that as we all marched back up the bank to Sunday dinner.

When I think about all the times in my life that I had to let go of the past before I could take the next step toward a new beginning I picture my Dad steadying my brother and making him feel strong and capable.  I know my Heavenly Father is always there for me, steadying me and loving me through the letting go if I walk hand in hand with Him.

For Boston

What do you write when there are no words

When you long for the sorrow in your heart to be heard

What do you say to those in pain

When only their broken hearts remain

Will they hear that the hope they’ve lost is not far

If they fall into Your loving arms

Or will bitterness and hate increase

The power of this evil deed

In helplessness I’m on my knees

Only You can meet their needs

Please take my prayer to Your heart

And with all others offered, start

To heal and comfort, protect and keep

Them close to You in perfect peace

How Cold Was It

When I am tempted to complain about cold weather I always remember just how cold it can get. On one trip to South Dakota, a few days before Thanksgiving, bitter cold, and sub-zero temperatures had settled in.  I lived in Colorado at the time so it was a short flight on a small jet.  Despite the cold and snow everyone on board was in a holiday mood and the flight was smooth.

                We landed on schedule and as we got up to leave the pilot’s voice came over the intercom.  He thanked us for flying on behalf of the airline and asked for our patience because there would be a slight delay before we could get off the plane.  Everyone settled down again and waited.  It was snowing and blowing outside so we couldn’t see anything but the lights of the terminal windows.  We had taxied in and the plane was right outside the gate so we didn’t understand the delay.  About 20 minutes later the pilot once again asked for our cooperation, explaining that due to the bitter cold, de-icing would be required for our safety.  Most of us had heard of de-icing a plane before a flight but it seemed strange to do it after.

                There were only two more announcements during the hour and half we sat on the plane. Each time the pilot tried to sound encouraging but sounded more and more as though he was talking through clenched teeth. The holiday moods were fading and the less patient were getting ornery.  No one had cell phones back then so the only information we had, came from the pilots short statements.  Finally the doors were opened and we were hit with a blast of icy wind and snow as we made our way down the metal stairs and into the terminal.  Our equally frustrated friends and family explained that it wasn’t the plane they had to de-ice it was the stairs that we had just walked down.  They couldn’t be rolled up to the plane because they were frozen to the ground under several inches of solid ice.  When the normal de-icing chemicals had not freed them, they went to plan B – blow torches and sledge hammers.  We couldn’t complain about that kind of effort and we were truly thankful to everyone who braved the storm to free us.

The Keys to My Future

The courtship’s been slow but so enticing

The possibilities are so exciting

My life without you has been good so far

Why should I move to where you are

The promises you make are great ones

I’m longing to know if you’ll make or break them

At your best my needs you meet

At your worst you lie to me

When I’m ready to go you’re always down

When I hesitate you’re always around

I can’t hold back the hands of time

I fear that I’ll be left behind

  

All the wheels are set in motion

But you still don’t have my full devotion

Cause when my future plans were set

They didn’t include you Internet

Silent Memories

I don’t know about anyone else, but during a concert or sporting event when they ask for a moment of silence for someone who has died, I have a hard time quieting my mind. Surrounded by all of the activity and with feelings of anticipation and excitement, it takes almost that long for me to try to focus my thoughts. Silence doesn’t seem to come easy these days.

  When I was growing up there was one day when no music, TV or games were allowed in our house from the time we got up until 3 o’clock in the afternoon.  It was Good Friday.  It was not normal for the four of us kids to be quiet so the day was long and frustrating.  When I got bored I would usually go outside which was my favorite place to be anyway.  Funny thing though, I remember so many Good Fridays when it rained all day.  Mom always said the angels were crying for Jesus. Not long after 3:00 someone would turn on the TV on but not as loud as usual and it seemed like it took a while for things to get back to normal.  

I asked her once why we could turn everything back on at 3:00 and she said that it was because that was the time when it was believed Jesus had died on the cross.  It didn’t make sense to me then that the saddest moment of the day would be the time when the music and games could start again. But I began to understand that when I read what Jesus said on the cross, “It is finished”.  The pain was over and death defeated now all there was to do was to wait for the Glory of Easter.

I wish that I could say that I carried on that tradition for my own children but I really only told them about it.  Now on Good Friday no matter where I am my mind always goes back to the memory of that quiet time and I think about Him because I know that through all His suffering on that day He was thinking about us.

The Knowing

A seed sown by the winds of fate

Silently endures the wait

How does it sense the time for growing

It’s in the knowing

Suspended in the darkened sky

What sets them loose at last to fly

Their starlit paths behind them glowing

It’s in the knowing

They rhythmically caress the land

What force empowers the unknown hand

That in the night pulls back the flowing

It’s in the knowing

                From first breath and first halting steps

                What leads us through to final rest

                The constant of our lifeblood flowing

                 It’s in the knowing

                Seeking His love and His forgiveness

                Finding the path He’s set before us

                Feeling the faith within us growing

                It’s in the knowing

               

Faithful Waters

One of my earliest childhood memories is of a tiny cottage that sat at the end of the road near our house.  It wasn’t much to look at but I couldn’t wait to visit the neighbors who lived there just so I could get a drink of water from their magic well.  I thought it was magic because the water was always on but it never ran out.

As you got close to cottage you would start to hear the sound of running water coming from the back yard.  It flowed from a small curved pipe that served as a spigot standing in the middle of a crumbling square of cement.  The water rushed out and drained through a metal grate and into a wide pipe in the ground, echoing off the sides as it met the waters deep below.  The Pipe, the grate and even the cement were covered in rusty orange from the iron rich water.  A thick glass beer mug hung from a wire hook on a wooden post nearby.  I remember how hard it was to hold the mug up under the furiously flowing water at just the right angle to capture a cold drink on a hot day.

The water never stopped flowing even during the coldest part of the winter.  It looked as though it had frozen in mid-air as ice reached from the mouth of the pipe to the ground, but you could still hear the sound of the water coming from the hollow center of the frozen flow.  That was over fifty years ago and the last time I took a drive to the old subdivision it was still flowing just as it had when I was a little girl.

When I read about Jesus offering the woman at the well streams of living water I think about that old artesian well.  What He offers is not a slow trickle but a never ending rushing flow so full of love and so powerful that we could never stand under the fullness of it.  It has been there throughout all of the seasons of our lives waiting for us to reach for a drink of His refreshing grace and mercy and it will never run out, because He is the same yesterday, today and tomorrow.

Steps

You came to me already named

No bottles to warm or diapers to change

No lullabies or stories shared

Or teaching you to say your prayers

I missed the precious moments that

With my own child love began

Your hopes and dreams already sown

By Memories I’d never know

I couldn’t ease the pain you felt

When in the night you’d cry for help

And though I’d run to you myself

I knew you longed for someone else

Another love you’d always have

Who knew your fears, your cries, your laugh

Even though you were apart

She would always have your heart

Wanting to love you

Wanting to help you

Wanting to find a way to tell you

That I was there no matter what

And that I never would give up

Trying to find an empty place

Within your lives and fill that space

To be whoever you needed then

Hoping your love at last to win

               I didn’t understand your ways

               I had to learn them as the days

               Of your lives were passing by

               No catching up although I tried

New memories across the years

Shared joys and sorrows that brought us near

Created a way for me to start

To climb the steps into your hearts

How Many Times

How many hopes will come and go

How many times will the world say no

How many places will fail to be

The home that only my heart can see

How many people will turn away

How many dreams will end today

How many trials will come and go

Before I find my rest in hope

How many times can I forget

How many needs that You have met

How many times can I run to You

And ask forgiveness when I do

How many times can I seek you Lord

How many times find truth in Your Word

How many times feel You close to me

Knowing that You will never leave

How many stripes did He take for me

How many sins would You have seen

How many ways to eternal peace

If Jesus had never died for me

How many times will these questions be

Answered with Your Love for me

Seven times Seven through eternity

Grace sufficient for all my needs

How many times can I praise your name

My all in all, my everything

The Ties That Bind

They say there is a tie that binds

Beyond all distance and all time

Weaving through our hearts and minds

Keeping love through pain that blinds

When choices separate our lives

When hopes and dreams aren’t realized

When truth is lost to desperate lies

And faith becomes a hopeless cry

The ties can fray and even break

They cannot stand beneath the weight

Unless three strands are used to make

A cord unbreakable joined by faith

Through anger, bitterness and fear

The comforts of His strength appear

To heal our hearts and draw us near

                Bound by His faithful love so dear

The Imagination Tree

The Catalpa Speciosa, otherwise known as a Cigar tree, that stood in our front yard was not a very pretty tree.  It was tall and wide with crooked branches that grew more up than out.  The leaves were three times the size of oak or maple leaves and shaped like rounded arrowheads. We couldn’t climb it because the lowest branches were far above our heads so most of the time its only purpose seemed to be to hold up floodlights for the fisherman.  But twice a year all that changed and it became the best tree in the yard.

Because it stood so tall sometimes we didn’t even notice the white flowers until they began to fall to the grass from large clusters partially hidden by the leaves. If they fell without the help of wind or rain they would cover the whole front yard like a fluffy carpet.  Each one was shaped like a small cup just big enough to fit over the tip of your finger with a beautiful ruffle around the top.  We never grew tired of putting one on each finger like fanciful gloves or stringing them together like Hawaiian leis. They turned brown quickly once they fell and we could only enjoy them for a few days so they always seemed special.

Toward the end of summer if you looked up into the branches you could see long green seed pods hanging where the flower clusters had been.  Some were more than a foot long and as fat as our thumbs.  When they began to turn brown they started to fall and then the real fun began.  They became swords, firewood on a deserted island, cigars at the general store, arrows for the Indians and whatever else we could imagine.  We spent hours playing in the shade of that big tree until the colorful oak and maple leaves stole our attention and we found new adventure jumping into the large piles of raked leaves.  We moved from one season of play to another, from snowman to mud pies until one day in late spring a ruffled white flower dropped at our feet and we were drawn back to the imagination tree.

What If

What if we considered the times that we learned

Hard lessons of truth that led us to turn

What if our compassion could see through our pain

Seeking only for healing and not just to blame

What if we admit that hopelessness thrives

In anger and bitterness and love that’s denied

                What if we accepted by grace we are saved

                And in grateful  humility, what if we forgave

On a Clear Day You Can Drive Forever Or What Exit, I Didn't See an Exit!

                I have always loved road trips, even family vacations in an overloaded Suburban with 3 kids and 2 dogs.  As travel goes it is not the fastest, cheapest or even the most comfortable method but is almost always an adventure.

                It is relaxing and exciting at the same time.  One minute you are admiring the scenery and the next following a detour through tiny towns that seem frozen in time.  Even getting lost can be the highlight of a trip when you discover places and attractions that you never knew existed.  And yes, I even stop at historical markers.

The unusual names of the roads, towns and rivers that I pass always spark my imagination.  I invent my own scenarios about how they got their names based on what I know of the history and culture of the area. On a recent trip to North Carolina it was near the end of my driving day when I caught the name of a river out of the corner of my eye. I must have been tired because I thought it said the “French Bread River”.  Before long I had invented an elaborate tale about loaves of bread being used to smuggle information across the river to General Lee.

 Sometime later I saw another sign noting the “South Branch of the French Broad River”.  Feeling rather foolish I realized my mistake.  It wasn’t bread it was broad.  Laughing at my original scenario I told myself to reign in my imagination and get off the road for the night.

How silly to think that they would name a river after loaves of bread.  Tomorrow, I thought, I will try to imagine who the French Broad was that inspired the name.

And Then There Were Two

                Registering for my Senior High School classes was something I had dreamed about all summer.  Most of my required courses were done so I would be able to enjoy choir and art, as well as participate in a jobs program.  As soon as I got there I headed straight for the English Department table to sign up for 3^rd hour with my favorite teacher.

                I told the girl behind the table my name and she fingered through a box of index cards.  She couldn't find mine so she checked her class lists and said that I had already been there because I was signed up for 4th hour.  Telling her that I just walked in the door I handed her my ID thinking she might have misheard my name.  My maiden name is Polish and it was often misread and mispronounced.  After checking her list again she told me that the person signed up for 4^th hour had the same first, middle and last name with the exact same spelling. The only difference was that she was listed as a junior.

                I was getting frustrated having to explain at every table that there were two of us.  When I reached the last table and handed in my course cards the registrar was waiting for me.  She asked for my Mother’s first Initial and when I said that it was E everyone at the table laughed.  Amazingly, although the names were different, her mom’s first initial was also E.  The registrar needed something to add to our computer records to tell us apart so she finally settled on our mother’s maiden names.  Secretly I felt as though my identity had been stolen and I wondered if she did too.  I guess I will never know because as close as she seemed that day I never met her face to face. 

It's a Cynical World Virginia or All That and A Bag of Chips

           As a single mom Christmas could be a little lean.  The year my daughter turned 5 was no exception.  We were home on Christmas Eve preparing for the extended family’s gathering on Christmas Day.  After we finished baking cookies and wrapping gifts I brought out some snacks which included a bag of potato chips.  We settled down in front of a Christmas movie and reached into the bag.  My fingers touched something that felt like a postcard.  Pulling it out I saw the words, “You are an instant Winner!” written across the top.

I scratched off the silver prize circle expecting to see a free bag of chips or 10% discount written underneath.  To my amazement a one followed by five zeros appeared.  Reading both sides of the ticket and the bag I realized that I had just won a thousand dollars. My daughter had no idea how much money a thousand dollars was but she could tell by my excitement that it was better than a free bag of chips.

  Too excited to keep the new to myself I called my mom and told her what happened.  She said she had gotten those kinds of things before and that I should read the small print because it probably said to mail it in for a chance to win.  I told her that I read everything but she still ended the call by saying that she hoped I was right.  My need to celebrate was not satisfied so I called my sister.  Her reaction was much the same and came with an additional warning about giving out my personal information or sending money.  It was only after I had received the check that everyone seemed willing to rejoice with me.

Knowing something wonderful but not being able to convince others that it is true is an awful feeling.  That’s how I feel about knowing the Lord.  I understand that people don’t want to believe what they cannot see so I have learned that all I can do is try to show his love and serve others in the hope that someday they may see Him in me and join my celebration.