This work comes out of some of the private writing Brenda has been doing in her devotions and as part of the reboot
All my life I’ve been surrounded by the Spirit of “NOT ENOUGH”. This spirit breathes life and pain into the very heartbeat of the people he encounters and so society at large is effected. He speaks his fear of not being enough, not seeing enough, not having enough. He is and becomes the spirit of poverty. This is what he does to people:
We don’t give, even though we have plenty- because one day we might not have enough. We hoard our possessions and belongings and constantly desire more-because one day we might not be able to afford to have or get them. We say we want better paying jobs so we can give more, but when we are then so blessed we first set about meeting our own desires and wants first calling them NEEDS. “First me” we think, “then you and then them.”
The Spirit of poverty having wreaked his havoc over our finances then begins his evil work on our spirits and souls. See the Spirit of Generosity has now been rooted out of our finances, so he knows now he can root it out of our self image and identity.
He begins whispering “No one respects you.” “No one understands you or thinks your ideas are valid.” “No one thinks you belong here or are worthy to be here.”So we fight to prove ourselves worthy of the roles we have been given.
“That’s right ,” He whispers. “See how hard you have to work to be appreciated? They’ll never think you are worthy or enough.” “They will always think there is some one better for the job.” HE whispers louder. “You should fight some more.”
SO we fight for our positions and possessions, thinking we are using righteous anger, never noticing the root of bitterness growing in our soul.
Then he whispers, “You are too much to handle. People can’t handle your energy, your drive, your focus. You are overwhelming, that is why you are alone and always will be.”
HE goes on, “People say they love you, but do they really?”And the seed of doubt is planted by the now growing root of bitterness both being watered and fueled by our hurt and anger. Meanwhile the tree of generosity has begun to wither and decay.He keeps us running to stay worthy, chasing after the love we seek and the desire to be accepted. Running after our need to be respected. We keep feeding the seedlings of bitterness and doubt until they begin to blossom and pour out their pain on those around us.We begin to become a self fulfilling prophecy of pain and anger.
But there is hope. The tree of Generosity is not so easily killed. Its roots are deep and strong.One drop of healing water and it begins to heal our soul and spirit piece by piece. One offering given, one meal bought for a friend or colleague, one word of encouragement, one PRAYER FOR HELP…that prayer pours out its living water onto the parched tree and the life giving stuff makes the tree of Generosity grow and thrive once again.
The deluge of Living Water drowns the saplings of bitterness and doubt and our spirit begins to see the world with God’s eyes again. Our soul begins to see itself as God see us filled with generosity, giving grace and mercy and encouragement out freely.And the Body of Christ is healed.
I have come to the end of the memoir questions for this week with these two questions:
Describe a location where you remember spending time.
What other memories occur to you from this period? Did you discover anything in your memoir that you would like to explore in an artist’s date?
Honestly these first years, are years of which I only have glimpses. My first solid memories, aside from meeting my first spirits, are entrenched in the next four years of my life.
I suppose if there is any place I remember it is my Gramma Tenny’s House on School St. in Winchendon. It was the little brown farmhouse where my mother grew up. I remember my grandmother always sat on the corner of the couch closest to the window in the parlor. She was seldom out of that spot (which reminds me a lot of my mother now). She was continually knitting mittens and hats (which doesn’t remind me of my mother at all).
My Aunt Libby and Uncle Lawrence lived in the house next door. I can remember my Uncle Tom taking me for walks into the woods along the forest path which was well worn by members of my family. I also remember that while all my older cousins were free to explore the woods to their hearts content (except for my cousins Karen and Terrie who we didn’t see often the next youngest cousin was four years my senior and many of my cousins were teens when I was born), I always had to travel with a cousin holding my hand and could only go as far as the bridge. I was a literal drag.
The She is gone! He Who Wears Stupid Hats says she is on something called vacation, but I just know that the loathsome Kree have kidnapped her and are holding her as retribution against keep me for interfering in their interstellar political games.
After my last attack on their fleet I feared they may take offensive action against me and mine. Now The She is gone! She has just vanished!
I know! She looks terrified. When I came across this photo I knew it was proof of life and a warning of what will happen if I interfere in their workings ever again.
Matriarch Of the Ages keeps asking He Who Wears Stupid Hats when The She is returning. He always says “ten days”, but alas I know the truth. Meanwhile I can only sit in my tower and wait for an opportunity…. Just wait loathsome Kree! I will find a way to rescue The She and when I do you will all know the wrath of Flerkin!!!!
Since Brenda and I both remember this poem as one of our favorite “books” from when we were little, and since each of my kids remember the version of the story I told them when they were little I thought I would show you one of our family favorites.
Brenda and I continue to plow through this artist’s reboot. It has been a tricky weekend. I got exactly one and half pages written of my morning pages all weekend. That is one and a half pages of what was supposed to be nine pages. As I said in an earlier post… “too much running the Earth and not enough watching the sky.”
Anyway both Brenda and I are back at it modifying and learning about the changes God is calling us too in the midst of this reboot. I am learning that Julia Cameron is correct when she says “In the midst of any transition, it is important to be gentle with yourself.”
Brenda continues here with some gentle answers regarding her memoir.
What was your favorite toy and what was your favorite food?
Brenda says…. My favorite toy was a stuffed clown with a wind up nose. I slept with it almost every night, and got many a bruise from the hard plastic face that I would try to cuddle. But the music would lull me to sleep. I still have that thing in a box somewhere, the wind up nose has long since stopped playing its hypnotic melody.
My favorite food…Definitely with out even a 2nd thought…Mac and Cheesewiz with either bolgna or hotdogs…every Sunday night after bath time my brother and I would sit down with our tv trays and eat our mac and cheese wiz delciousness and watch Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom followed by THE WONDERFUL WORLD OF DISNEY…and thus began my love affair with all things DISNEY!
Here is Brenda’s answer to the question…What was your favorite book?
My favorite book?
Oh boy, even now that is a tough question…
I am not an avid reader like the rest of my family, and I remember that being very frustrating for my Mom and Dad and Brother. I still hear the command ringing out when ever I wanted to play or do SOMETHING….”Why don’t you go read a book.”?
UGGG. I just wanted to play! But every night my mom and dad would try to read to me at bed time. My favorite book was actually a poem my dad would act out for us at night calle GIANT THUNDER BONES! After that it was a 2 sided book with Peter Pan on one side and Alice and wonderland on the other…but I liked Peter Pan the best…more action…although Alice drinking those potions and going through those doors…into that magical land and the Chesire Cat….loved that.But when I just wasn’t in the mood for any of that…My Dad could tell I needed visual stimulous for story telling time as well as voices. So he bought me an MC ESCHER picture book, and would make up stories based on the picture I would choose. But if you know 4 yearolds you know they like repition, so I always went back to my favorite picture…Topsy Turvy. Love that piece to this day, and the sotries Dad would make up….PURE MAGIC.
Here is a recap of our service from Sunday morning.