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Introspective Sojourner

The journey inward following Christ’s path to that person I was uniquely created to be.

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vickipugliese

If I’d Asked For Help

I broke something that meant a lot to me today because I wouldn’t ask for help. Just a little two tiered serving dish. I could probably replace it inexpensively – except to me it’s so much more than a serving tray.

I was washing it and had not taken it apart when it was dry. I laid it on the counter, but I was afraid it would roll off accidentally. I tried to unscrew the pieces but it was wet and it just kept spinning. My husband was busy shoveling snow and even though at that exact moment he came into the kitchen, I didn’t want to bother him and so I didn’t ask for help. I knew I needed help and that it would have taken him a second and he wouldn’t have minded at all. But I didn’t want to bother him. There’s been a lot of snow here in Ohio lately and he’s worked very hard to keep things safe and snow free. And so my tray slipped and fell just an inch or two. But it chipped.

You may be thinking, it’s just a plate. But this little plate was given to me after Gramma Brown passed away. I was included in a family that is not technically my family to choose something to remind me of her. You see my own family does not include me, but my best friend’s family has always treated me like family. When I go home to visit, they are the first place I stop. My bestie has four adopted children legally but I’m really they’re first adopted kid. I was chosen, always included and always loved. They have been a lifeboat in the storms of my life. They are truly a gift from God to remind me that He also chose me. That I am adopted into His family as well. I know exactly what it feels like to be truly treated as family and wholly loved.

But this blog is about something more. I knew I needed to ask for help. I should have asked for help. Jerry would not have minded.

I was a single parent for several years and I needed help often. My nature is to do it myself and not ask for help, but single parenting is really hard. A Pastor of mine who was also a friend told me once that I needed to accept help, receive help or I was taking away someone else’s blessing. It’s a blessing to give. Most people are happy to help others in need, they just don’t exactly know how to help. I think that’s because most people are like me and they think they need to do it alone and they resist asking for help. They don’t even bother to ask. I’ve had several people come back later when I was thanking them for their help and let me know that they were happy to have been able to help. Thank you for that advice, Stephen Sloat.

Except I didn’t follow that advice this morning, and now my serving plate is chipped.

Christmas is a hectic time. You may find you need to ask for help. Maybe you just need a friend to vent to or maybe you need someone to shovel the mountain of snow Ohio left at your doorstep. I know it’s against our nature and that those who take and take and take have ruined the gift of giving for many of us. We don’t want to be a bother. We don’t want to impose. Our striving for self sufficiency hasn’t left any room for receiving that gift of assistance.

Life wasn’t meant to be lived alone. People actually do want to help. They probably would help and move on without it ever crossing their mind again. But life is so much richer and fuller and more connected when we live it together. When we reach out in need and when we see a need and reach out to help. That connection to others makes us feel whole.

God asks us to love like He loves us. Well, he has adopted us into His family. If we receive His gift in faith, we are His sons and daughters. We are part of the family. We are loved and whole together. Part of the greatest family of all time, actually. As your sibling, I’m telling you we’re happy to help. We are only an ask away. Don’t struggle. Don’t burn yourself out thinking you have to do it alone. God put us in your life for a reason. Don’t take away our blessing of helping you and loving you the way that God loves us. Everyone needs help once and a while. Leave room to receive it. Be open to the idea that God may have already sent your husband into the kitchen at the exact moment you needed him.

Don’t let your serving dish get chipped this Christmas. Reach out. We’re here.

By Vicki L. Pugliese

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Time to “Be”

My brain needed a break from all the things at lunch today. It was tired of the electronic screens and noise, so I took my lunch out on my deck.  It took my brain a few minutes to slow down. It was ready with the defense to “What are you doing?” with a reply of “Nothing”. It’s been a long dramatic week, and my brain needed some “nothing” – I thought.

 

I remember sitting on my Dad’s porch asking him that question and being too impatient to sit there quietly for very long before I determined I had things to do. But if things ever got too chaotic, the first thing my brain would want was to just go sit on his porch. I don’t think I realized what I was longing for.

 

As I sat on my deck, I felt the chaos and noise start to fade away. I had turned on the fountain and my brain keyed in on the soft sound of water falling. Then I noticed the warmth of the sun as it came out from behind a cloud. It’s a comfortable day. I could feel my body loving that vitamin D. There was a slight breeze, and I could hear a neighbor somewhere down the street mowing his lawn and kids playing. Happy laughing kids.

 

A morning dove started calling and then a cardinal. I guess there have been other times I did “nothing” where I identified the calls. A robin landed in the yard and sparrows and some big bugs came for a drink in my fountain. It hasn’t rained in a few days – they seemed happy for the fresh water. I took in the lushness of the trees and grass, and watched a squirrel run across a branch and jump from one tree to another.

 

There’s a lot going on in that “nothing”. I guess I hadn’t let my mind have space and time to realize just how much goes on in just a few minutes. My brain stopped trying to problem solve, and list make for all the things I would “do” later. It just started to let me “be”. 

I watched the clouds move slowly across the sky and remembered trying to find shapes in them as a child. I slowed down my eating and started noticing the individual flavors in my food that I normally “scarf” down so I can get back to “doing”. 

 

My dog poked her head out the doggie door and checked out what I was doing. She determined I was being boring, and pulled her head back inside. She came out to join me later.

 

I’m getting ready to retire and not having enough to “do” is a little scary. I think I’m ready for some time “being” though. Some time noticing all the wonderful blessings God has given me that I don’t pay attention to, like the singing of birds and how they get picky at the bird feeder and toss the less desirable seeds down to the ground. The squirrels and bunnies love that. They looked me right in my eye and tossed that stuff off. It makes me smile.

 

I have a whole new season of life coming up. No more lists or firefights at work. Nobody asking me how I’m planning on improving my skills or how they can communicate better. I no longer have a performance review to worry about not being perfect on, or where I have room to grow. I just get to “be”. All the fake drama of earning more for our shareholders – that’s gone. All the worries about how we’re doing this quarter, gone. The need to pick up the slack for coworkers who are falling behind, that’s gone. The need to mentor so that when I’m gone, they’ll be successful, those days are almost over. I’ve had a great work team though, and I will miss them.

 

It’s almost time for me to sit back and just be. Just be creative, or lazy, or learn something new, or volunteer to help serve, or to just spend some quality time binging a new series on Netflix with my favorite people. Will we travel, maybe. I hope so. Will we hike on green trails, visit waterfalls or sit on a beach? Definitely. Will we be at the zoo a lot, I’m sure we will. We love the zoo. Suddenly there’s time. Suddenly the chaos is a choice. Maybe it always has been, and I just chose unwisely.

 

But it’s almost time to really dig into that “nothing” and see how much fun “being” can be.

 

By Vicki L. Pugliese

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A Walk in the Garden

I walked through the garden, taking in all the colors and scents. A quiet stream flowed gently through it. The peace was consuming. It was more beautiful than anything I had ever seen. More colors than I knew existed, and the flowers were wildly complex and intricate. The grass was high and lush, gently swaying in the breeze. It was warm. Perfectly comfortable. It was perfect.

“Is this Heaven?” I asked turning toward Jesus.

“No, but the veil is thin here.”

“How did I find this?”

“It’s a gift from the Holy Spirit.”

“How long have I been here?”

“Time is different here. Like if you were to zoom in on a circle so closely that what you see is a straight line. A moment here is like that. It’s perspective.” He smiled gently ensuring I understood. I did. Time was slow and full here.

I was singing again. Like I could hear a song and was singing along. I was so grateful for the song. It filled my heart. Tears rolled down my cheeks. 

Jesus gently took a flower and leaned it toward my hand. The second it touched me, I could hear its song. It was magical. Somehow my song harmonized perfectly. Like my soul knew the flower was singing even if my ears couldn’t hear it before. I reached for another flower without letting go of the first. It had a song too. All three different. All three beautifully complemented each other, like a small orchestra. The beauty and the scents all adding to this amazing garden. Jesus smiled as he watched me take it in.

“The whole garden is singing?”

“Yes, even the rocks cry out.”

I recognized the reference. Another tear. 

“It’s overwhelming, it’s so beautiful. And this isn’t Heaven?”

“You aren’t ready yet. You’re still learning your song. Heaven is so much more.”

“Can’t I learn my song there?”

“Some people do. But that’s not His plan for you. The world needs a little of your song. Your children and grandchildren – they need to hear more of it. Their roots aren’t as strong. Your song and the harmony you and your husband bring to each day and each other, it sings to their spirit. They don’t even notice sometimes but their spirit does.”

“We aren’t always in harmony.” I said looking down sadly. I knew that I played a part in that. 

“The moment you accepted me, I touched your spirit. I placed that song in you like a seed. The Holy Spirit has been protecting it, helping it find deeper soil. Helping the soil become more rich, and gently teasing out the roots. Some seeds land in rich soil immediately. Some seeds do not, and the soil has to be tended to first. You have wanted to burst out of that shell from a very young age. You heard the song, and you wanted to grow like these flowers to sing your song with all your heart, but the soil wasn’t ready. You needed the protection of the shell as the Spirit tended to it. You were still learning your song, but it wasn’t time to sing it to the world. Little by little your roots have shot out and moved deeper and deeper. You were thirsty for the Spirit, to hear the whole orchestra. But you…” He said looking directly in my eyes, “get distracted by other pieces of the song. Wanting other seeds to open before they are ready, before the soil is ready.”

I thought about the times I had tried to encourage spiritual growth in my husband or my kids. Maybe force it. Wanting to point out the splinter in their eye while ignoring the log in my own. I thought I was helping. 

I nodded my head slowly and asked, “Did I mess things up?”

“Of course not. The Spirit gently redirected those roots to where they needed to go. It’s not your job to help them grow. That’s His job. He’s got it under control. Their part of the song is different from yours. They have to learn their part, not yours. The Spirit sees the whole score, like a conductor. Some of the parts need to repeat and play again stronger or softer to support the score. Your part has had repeats too.”

“I thought I just hadn’t fully learned that lesson.” I smiled weakly.

“That’s not the whole truth though. You kept moving forward and kept searching for God. And that helped others to want to search for Him both when you seemed to be doing a good job and when you seemed off track. Sometimes people needed to feel right or superior to find their way. It’s all part of the song. The Spirit used both the harmony and the dissonance to make something beautiful.”

“When will I grow flowers?”

“If you grow flowers too soon your stems will break. That’s not what is planned for you. You can’t look at those who are supposed to have long and bending stems because that’s not the kind of flower you’ll support. You need deeper roots and stronger stems because I have something truly unique planned for you. You also can’t look at your strong stems and compare it to others who are supposed to bloom fast with soft stems. The garden needs them all. You aren’t the gardener, I am. You need those types of flowers to strengthen your soil. You don’t see the big picture. It’s not time.”

I nodded. “I don’t trust you enough.”

“No one does. You’re trying. You’re still learning.” He pointed to a rose and continued, “You know how a rose bush pushes out beautiful blooms and then they die off so the stems can come in stronger, and the blooms can be even more beautiful. Learning is something like that. Keep singing your song. Keep growing your roots. Trust me. Trust the Spirit. There’s so much more than you can imagine.”

I could feel the world coming closer to the garden, pulling me away. “Is my time here over now?”

“For now. But you can return anytime you need to. You know the song. You know the way.”

I felt the love and heard the song again – like the orchestra had burst out around me. Sweeping me away for the longest moment.

Another tear rolled down my cheek and I could hear my church singing. I opened my eyes to those standing around me singing to Him. Worshiping. I could feel the Spirit. He was thick in the room with those who’d gathered. All the saints reaching out to touch and be touched by Him. Roots growing, a song being revealed. In His time. According to His plan. 

Something more than I could ever imagine.

By Vicki L. Pugliese

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Fake Connections

I didn’t make it to church today. I had an excuse – there are always excuses. It was very cold, and our dog isn’t allowed unsupervised in the house because she eats doors. I hate leaving her in the dog run, even though we heat it some and it’s covered and has access to the yard. It was just an excuse. I’m struggling with having excuses come Sunday morning. We watch the service from home. The sermon was great. Our pastor does an excellent job.

It’s become a pattern in my life. Excuses to keep me from making real connections with people I love. It’s easy to find excuses… I’m not feeling up to it. I’m tired. I’m working or taking care of this thing I need to do. All of my connections, not just attending church; going to visit my friends, even family, going to Bible study, even just going to the store. My circle is closing in on me.

When I was younger, I loved going to hang out with friends and hated being alone. If I was stuck being alone, I was on the phone grasping at the connections I desperately wanted. Now, if you call me without texting first, I will probably screen your call and call you back – reluctantly. I will guilt myself until I do call you back, so I’m not really sure why I hate picking up. I don’t actually mind talking on the phone, especially if there is distance between us and visiting is impossible or difficult. Still there will be at least a moment or two of panic and dread as I answer the call.

This morning, I saw one of my favorite families walk down the aisle to the front of the church and I was sad I had chosen to stay home. I realized how I’ve given up true connections for false connections. I avoid going out to hang out with friends and families. I settle for a phone call. Actually, I prefer a text. I have fake connections with friends from my childhood and youth. People I don’t really know but we enjoy the same silly memes and jokes. Instead of going out and doing things, learning new things or just enjoying crowds who like the same things that I do, I doom scroll through social media or binge watch TV.

Fake connections have been invading my life since childhood. First the phone and TV, followed by the internet and now social media. Slowly electronic connections, which give me a false sense of connection, have eroded my desire for real connections. Maybe not my desire but certainly my follow-through. They pacify my hunger like cheap sweet or salty snacks. That’s a blog for another time. They don’t really feed the nutritional need for connection. They just keep me from being hungry.

Yesterday we had a big group of family and friends get together to celebrate some birthdays. The connections were true, and it filled my soul. I got to spend some quality time laughing and enjoying my kids and grandkids.

As kids we were always surrounded by family and friends. Someone was always dropping by, or we were going to visit. Being Generation Jones, we left early in the morning and showed back up when it got dark. We spent every moment with friends. If we ended up at someone’s house, there was often a group of adults hanging out as well, somewhere near-by. We might try to stick around and just watch tv Saturday mornings but one or two cartoons in, our parents were kicking us out to go play. I never played alone. If my bestie was unavailable, I’d find another kid, or we’d end up at the park or pool and spend the afternoon with a friend or two amongst a crowd of a friend or two.

Today, I work from home. I connect via the internet with coworkers that don’t even live in the same state as me or each other. I text my kids and best friend. I send memes and videos to people while scrolling on social media. I binge watch fake connections on tv that resolve problems in an hour. My circle becomes smaller and smaller as the enemy makes it easier and easier to isolate myself and find excuses not to make the effort to have a real connection. Even my devotions are via my smart phone instead of picking up the Bible right beside me. Real connections feed me, but I settle for the fake ones because of excuses. I can find a million of them. Ironically, I worry about some of the people I love who are very introverted, who don’t like things that are too peopley. Maybe I should be worrying about me. I definitely get more out of church when I attend, so I’m not exactly sure why I find excuses. Unless it’s the enemy. If the enemy can’t take away my faith, it can hobble the connections and my impact with excuses. Pretty clever plan actually.

Just like the sweet or salty snack, I will make the wrong choice knowing it’s the wrong choice at times. But perhaps I can move towards correcting this if I acknowledge it’s an issue and I want to change it. 

Next week, I’ll see that church family in person. At least I hope I will, because I miss their faces and the sound of their voices. Next week I’ll feed my soul the nutrition it really needs, a real connection. If you attend church with me and I’m not there next week, feel free to tag this post and remind me. Because my soul needs it. God built us for connections, real connections, and I need to stop finding excuses for fake ones.

By Vicki L. Pugliese.  

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The Pruning of Me

Pruning my roses is cathartic for me. I love searching out the right spot to trim back to. I know that trimming the bushes will allow them to bloom again; fuller and stronger. I see the deep color of the new leaves. I see the thicker, heartier stems pushing through and hints of blooms to come. 

There are parallels to my life and faith. I’m not always happy when God prunes – especially when the decay goes deep. Things I’ve struggled with for a long time that I know need to be cleared away for me to grow. They are familiar and I get anxious when He says they have to go. 

I look at my childhood and see the blooms I once had. I miss them. 

“Remember when I prayed all the time and ran around singing hymns, God?” 

He tells me that He loved those blooms too, but to trust Him, the new blooms will be even better. I worry that my faith was stronger and might never be that way again. He reminds me that I needed that faith to survive the childhood ahead of me and the trauma I would go through.

I learned to go to Him at a very young age, afraid that everyone would abandon me. I would need to know to turn to Him and believe He would always be there even when my world shifted under me.  I would need that when my mom was institutionalized again. 

I learned to be grateful for my life and my wonderful friends. I have been blessed with the best friends my whole life. He shows me that I needed them to counteract the hate I experienced from my family. I needed their kind words to hear Him tell me that I was enough – that I was loveable. 

Now my faith is my own, not words of others that I believed without question. I have gone through deep seasons of doubt. My faith has been tested, and He has proven Himself faithful. I have so much to be grateful for. Even during my biggest struggles, He brought me joy. I know this without question now.

He is the author of the new growth in me. He created the new blossoms ready to bloom. I have had my share of pain – often at my own doing, avoiding the deepest cuts He needed to make. 

I find myself grateful tonight for the blooms that once were, now cut away. I see the beauty in them as they were at their peak. That beauty lets me trust in the promise of what God is yet to do in my life. I see the new leaves. I see the stronger stems. 

I’m sure there will still be whining about the cuts – after all I am still me. But I know I can trust Him because He sees the me He designed me to be.

 

By Vicki L. Pugliese

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All My Life You Have Been Faithful

All my life you have been faithful. All my life you have been so so good.

‘Cause your goodness is running after, running after me.

From the Titusville Presbyterian church with the wall of organ pipes that are like the breath of God, where I first sang songs to you.

From the vacation Bible study somewhere in Cherrytree Pennsylvania where I learned the joy of singing of your love.

From the Hydetown Baptist church where Pastor Larry Hellein touched my heart, and I first came forward to your alter. Where I was baptized and pledged my life to you. Where a youth group strengthened my faith and Gordon Turk and Ken Jackson taught us your word. Where I sang my first solo and almost never sang another, that was so scary.

From the Free Methodist youth group that showed me everyone is accepted and loved.

Your goodness is running after, running after me.

From the Navy Chapel in bootcamp, to the one on Fort Meyers where I clung to what I knew.

From the Assembly of God church, and the boy’s God parent’s, Gary and Sharon Seifrit, who scooped up a broken little family and took them in and set us on a right path again.

From the Navy Chapel in Pearl Harbor and the choir that adopted a little single parent family. Where the officer’s women’s Bible study took in the one enlisted female looking for a morning Bible study and loved her so well. From the Navy Chapel’s choir and single’s group that helped me renew my faith. Where Pastor Stephen Sloat led and deepened my walk with you and looked out for a young me searching to be loved.

From a Pearl Harbor Sub Base Chapel and it’s choir that accepted and loved me and Jerry and started our walk with you.

Your goodness is running after, running after me.

From the Folsom Presbyterian Church that became Journey church, with Pastor Del Burnett who made Jerry and I part of a church family. With Pastor Keith Posehn who made Jerry and I youth group leaders and filled our lives with the joy of service, and the youth group kids who loved us as much as we loved them. From Pastor Toby Nelson who taught us Greek and “Now to Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think according to the power that works in us” Eph 3:20.  From Pastor Mike Umbenhaur and Pastor Dave Huusko who continued our faith journey at Journey church. And the choir we sang in so diligently. Learning how to sing with all our souls from Anne Indermill and Len Jones. Where Anne and Mark Indermill and Bob Surridge encouraged me to try another solo. That was probably my last.

While the prayers of a Bible Study with Marya Morgan, Ann Patchen, Yvonne Roe and Jan Williamse prayed for me constantly and loved me through the death of my father.

Where Journey church and Hope Church taught me that splitting a church is never a good idea, and my heart was broken, as half the people I loved chose to move away from the other half that I loved. Where my heart died a little more as members moved on to other cities and other states.

Your goodness is running after, running after me.

Where Sophie Agricola and Lee and Jen Stacy showed me, I could find another church family at Vintage Grace church. Where Pastor Drew Sodestrom rekindled my faith and gave me phrases like #ButGod #WithGod, “God’s better is better” that preserved me through a dark season of job loss and a pandemic. Where my faith became trust and seeking your face deeper than I had ever before. Where a Life Group sustained my daily walk with love, and hands that showed me your love in a very tangible way.

Your goodness is running after, running after me.

To Ohio and the Rivertree Massillon church and Pastor Jake Garmany who has continued our journey as we live closer to my family. To the Bible study led by Doug and Sonji Gregory who deepen my faith and give me a home to talk of your great love and amazing power.

And all my life you have been faithful. All my life you have been so so good. With every breath that I am able. I will sing of the goodness of God.

So many friends who I’ve met at church and work and school. You have filled my life from every corner. Through every season. My life is so full it is overflowing and I pray your love spills out of me to everyone you have brought me to love, and everyone who is in my life. From the stranger in line at a cash register to the best friend I could ever ask for Faith Thompson. To my faith journey partner Jerry Pugliese who encourages me and supports me and worships you with me. May your love spill over into their lives so that they might feel your presence as I have… all my life and into the lives of my children and grandchildren.

May the years I have left be more of the same. Thank you God. Thank you Jesus, I am so grateful for your goodness and love.

Oh Lord hear my prayers and worship.

By Vicki L. Pugliese

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Hardened Heart

Today I watched a clip of the CEO of United Health Care get gunned down and had no emotions. It saddens me to realize how desensitized I’ve become.

Decades ago, while serving in the US Navy, I had to sign a document declaring that I did not participate in a number of things, so that I could get my clearance. I had never heard many of those words. I had to stop and ask what they meant. All of them were sexual deviations, I had no idea even existed. I was overwhelmed by the thought that someone out there participated in these, to the point that those getting a clearance had to sign a document stating they did not. I was disgusted and beside myself. My boss sent me home because I was useless at work. Now Hollywood glorifies many of these deviations in movies. They are commonplace. Our kids know what necromancy is. I had kids of my own and had never heard of that word.

Not long after the first Gulf War began. I worked in an intelligence center still. Our department head kept CNN on in the background of his office. As I was standing in his office without any of the trigger warnings, that are now common, CNN showed three hostages standing on a platform, and the platform dropping beneath their feet. I was horrified. For decades I refused to watch any news. My theory was that if something bad enough happened in the world, people would talk about it at work, or my husband would mention it. I didn’t need to subject myself to any of that being peddled by mainstream media. And for decades that was how I lived.

I would get frustrated when I would see a story on social media, where someone was being called a hero for common human decency. For example, a cop who stopped to help a kid put his chain back on his bicycle. Someone took a photo and extoled the virtues of that cop. It upset me that simple human decency was being elevated to hero status. Why hadn’t the person taking the photo stopped and helped this kid? How many people passed this kid by without helping him? Why are we okay with that kind of behavior? If you see someone in need, especially a child and you don’t stop to assist, why aren’t you being raked over the coals for this selfish and unkind behavior? Who set the bar that low?

I know I grew up in a different time and a small town. An excellent small town, I might add. But you would not have lived down walking passed a kid who needed help. That small town judgement would have followed you around for some time. “Oh he walked right by that kid that couldn’t get his bike chain back on and didn’t even stop to help…” The cop would not have been a hero, those who didn’t help would have had their reputations rightfully judged.

Where did this go? How have we become so desensitized to unkindness? When did we lower the bar so low that you don’t have to be a decent human anymore?

In today’s climate we live in constant states of fear and anger. Everything is politicized. We have rules for you but not for me. We celebrate when our side gets “away” with something, and the other side does not. “Good, they deserved that.” We laugh and make jokes. Don’t get me wrong, I’m 100% included in this. I will laugh at dark humor with the best of them. My sarcasm is well tuned.

Perhaps my humor is a response to the constant fear and anger being shoved down our throats by the news and social media. The pandemic certainly did not help. It seems as if all of our nervous systems are in a constant state of fight or flight. We are so burned out that our burn-out is burned out.

God tells us over and over to “fear not”. The original sin was to not trust God and think that we know better. That God is holding out on us somehow. It’s really easy to fall right back in to trying to control everything, even when you just laid your problems at the foot of the cross. I just go pick those problems right back up and start to work on solving them again.

But today, I had no emotions – none – at the very real clip of someone being gunned down. No boss is sending a distraught me home.

And it breaks my heart. It breaks my heart that I’m not horrified. It breaks my heart that I’ve let so much garbage into my brain that my first reaction was, “It’s probably someone who lost a loved one to a denied claim.” Instant dismissal. Rules for them but not for us?

I don’t condone this. A life was lost. He was probably a husband, maybe a father, someone’s son.

What I really don’t condone is how hardened my heart has become. “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.” Ps 51:10.  “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, lean not unto your own understanding.” Prov 3:5. 

I’m not okay with my own reaction. I’m not okay with always being angry or afraid. I’m not okay that I justify actions I don’t condone, for any reason. I need that small town, 1960’s mentality back. At least I need it back in my heart. I guess I can’t consume any news, from any source, social media or mainstream. If something big happens, I’ll hear about it around the water cooler, or from my husband. It’s time that I am not in the know.

It’s time I just stepped away and delete my social media apps. Time to choose protecting my heart so it isn’t hardened.

By

Vicki L. Pugliese

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He’s in the Whisper

“And after the fire there came a gentle whisper.” Do I wait long enough for the Lord? Do I know His voice? 

Elijah and Jezebel is one of my favorite stories in the Bible because God made him take a nap and have a snack. I relate so well with that. Elijah was weary. So weary that he wished for death. His fear had taken too much from him. God had a mission for him but first he had to travel 40 days and 40 nights. Then there was a storm so violent rocks were shattered. Then an earthquake and then a fire. After all that – God was in the whisper.

My life is filled with so much noise. I am an expert at life avoidance. I love a good Netflicks binge or movie marathon. I regularly doom scroll for the sake of my nervous system. I’m tired. I probably need a nap and a snack, and a good walk. What I don’t do enough is unplug and just wait for the whisper. Even in my devotions, I’m active. I read a plan in YouVersion and the Daily Refresh. I journal my prayers to God and use a playlist to help me worship. But this weekend I felt God pulling me to just sit quietly. I went outside and soaked in the sunshine and just waited. I gave my brain some time to listen for the whisper. I don’t do this enough. How can God lead me, if I don’t know His voice?

He reminded me of Elijah. I hadn’t read that story in a while. I was struck with how Elijah immediately knew the voice of God. Like when my kids or husband call. They don’t have to say who they are. I know their voice.

Over the years there have been many instances where I felt God’s leading. Being unable to sleep in the middle of the night and realizing I was being led to pray for someone. Then the next day finding out why and that waiting until that day would have been too late. Or feeling lead to cut something out of my life. Not something that I feel like we aren’t permitted to do but something that’s not for me.

Right now, I’m being warned off of yoga. Probably a controversial stance. If you don’t feel lead to not open that door, then you probably aren’t. But I know that those poses are Hindu poses to gods. I know that the sun salutations, warrior poses and lotus are all related to the Hindu faith. My spirit feels lead to not use that form of exercise to try and take back my health even though it’s probably what would first be recommended. I had always had any icky feeling whenever I’ve attended a yoga class. It’s not for me. I know it’s God’s voice telling me no and I am going to be obedient.

Everything that God has led me to cut out of my life, I have found great value in that choice. Every time it has brought me closer to Him in my walk. Sometimes I get mad at how slow I’m changing to become more like Christ. Why is it taking so long to change my heart? Maybe I’m still on the journey, or still in the storm. But I’m waiting and giving God space to lead me. I’m giving my heart time to hear His voice so that I know it. Maybe some day I’ll simply follow Him every step instead of wandering off. Knowing me that seems unlikely but you never know. God does amazing things.

But first I have to listen for His whisper.

By Vicki L. Pugliese

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God’s Appetizers

Sitting in my sunroom this morning during devotions, I felt content. The sky was blue and vast making me feel cozy and warm in my favorite chair. There was smoke billowing from a neighbor’s chimney and my home felt nestled in. Just a smattering of snow dusted the roof and birds were singing and playing about reminding me as I clutched my warm cup of coffee that spring was on its way. My dog was hunkered down beside me and the house was quiet and still. I was grateful for this life that God has given me, so filled by its goodness.

A little post from my best friend on the park we used to spend a lot of time at as kids, made me remember all of the fun we had hanging out. The many walks to and from the various parks that surrounded our little town filled with fun conversations and strong bonding moments. I don’t recall conversations, only feeling close to my friends as we spent time together. I can hear our laughter and feel the smiles and happiness we shared. My childhood was filled with so many friends that loved me dearly for exactly who I was. Hours and hours spent with each other. The mundane filled with something indescribably fulfilling. 

Which is a bit ironic because a week ago, I sat in that exact same chair. It felt far more wintery than spring. There was more snow, and the sky was gray, and I was feeling empty. I was focused on the dead plants surrounding me (they were still there this morning), and how the sunroom seems to be becoming more of a catch all storage room than my favorite devotions hang out. That same quiet peacefulness felt like a blanket of heaviness, and I felt disconnected and dissatisfied. I was ruminating on the trauma from my childhood and its correlations to the current feelings of being overwhelmed I had that day. 

I was looking back to that same childhood focused on the pain and how I couldn’t wait to get out of that town. The desire to flee the expectations of perfection that I would never live up to. The weight of the responsibility that I felt had been inappropriately laid on me. How my inability to be perfect ruined everything and caused all of the troubles our family had. How alone and rejected I felt, incapable of being the person I was expected to be. 

What changed? Well, there was a great sermon about this life being the appetizer and not the meal. The weather has warmed up and the sun was out. The birds are coming back and showing signs of spring – but mostly what I was focused on had changed. All of the other changes were minor, perhaps assisting me to focus on the things I love, but life had not changed. I had the same memories of childhood last week as I did this morning. I just was taking out the happy ones and reexamining them, feeling those emotions.  Letting that memory fill me up with contentment. I wasn’t brow beating myself over my shortcomings. I wasn’t holding others to a measure no one could meet. Happiness today wasn’t being measured by “what have you done for me lately” and how my life had threads of pain all through it. But happiness today was being measured by how full my life has already been and the expectation that I have more time to add to that aresenal. 

Sometimes I feel like I’m such a drama queen. My life is such a rollercoaster when nothing has really changed. But life is so much more exponentially full if I reexperience the highs and lows in my memory. If I feel the laughter my best friend and I had as we played at the park; the spinning of the merry-go-round, the feel of the wind in my hair as we pushed our swings higher, or the excitement of the unknown on the teeter totters. Mostly when I remember the feeling of love and acceptance of hanging out with friends. That knowing that I could just be myself. 

This world is the appetizer, and it is not meant to be the meal, but appetizers can be so good. Appetizers can whet your appetite for the good that is to come. They can open conversations and let the fun begin long before your order is ever prepared. I need to remember to enjoy the appetizer because it’s all part of the experience God prepared for me. And it can fill me up until the much anticipated meal arrives. 

By Vicki L. Pugliese

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