I observed something today about myself. I strive for perfection in everything that I do. Yet, I treasure the leaf with a hole in it, am there to make sure no one bullies the individual standing out in a crowd, and love helping the one needing extra teaching to learn the lesson. I do believe imperfection is perfect!
~Marie T. Morrison~
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
In The Morning
Struggling to get out of the bed in the morning, saying it would be nicer to just keep sleeping, remember six words, “I am alive God, thank you!” Place your feet on the floor and get ready to have a blessed day!
~Marie T. Morrison
~Marie T. Morrison
Saturday, July 23, 2011
IDOD:A Cup of Spirituality
IDOD:A Cup of Spirituality
I must share my last night’s dream with you. My husband Tom and I were sharing a little cabin with our two daughters in the small town of Chama, NM. The girls were younger than they are now, perhaps about the ages of nine and seven. Getting ready for bed, they called out from the back room they were ready to be tucked in for the night. I went in to find them all smiles and quite dressed up, wearing pretty jumpers and beaded headbands. Saying how pretty they looked, I asked if they were sure they wanted to have on what they did to sleep under the covers. They nodded happily, telling me yes, that was right. I silently wished otherwise, but I only smiled back and gave them my kisses goodnight.
No sooner had I returned to the front room than the front door opened. A gentleman, hair to his shoulders, rather balding and a mustache curling around his lips walked in, carrying a set of bongo drums. He had on a brown vest, a white, buttoned downed top with the shirt-sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a bolo tie and jeans. Right behind him came a dark haired, dark eyed fellow carrying a banjo, dressed in similar manner, followed by a third gentleman, holding a guitar. My husband had nodded off, not noticing the commotion, which is actually quite typical; he can sleep through anything. I asked them who they were and what they were doing in our cabin. They said it was Chama’s social night and this was the cabin where everyone met. They walked on to the back room to get the music ready, much to the delight of my daughters, jumping out of bed, since they were most appropriately dressed for the occasion. Though it was odd to have them walk in, it did seem most natural to have them there.
More musicians came, as did the people of the town, all most cordial, saying hello to me as they walked by. I noticed everyone wore a circular button, about 1 ½” in size, pinned on the left of their clothing, near the chest, with four capital letters posted on it, IDOD, written in blue or red, against a white background. Curious, I asked what the word meant. An elderly man, dressed in a western shirt, said, “You know, none of us know. We were asked to wear it all the time, so we do.” More chimed into the conversation saying that was right, that they were always trying to figure out what it meant, but no one had “gotten it yet.” I was not sure who it was that asked them to start wearing the pin, but I threw in my own guess, of saying “Maybe it stands for the ‘International Discovery Of’ something.” They looked at one another, saying, “Yeah, maybe so. But what could be that something?” I was as puzzled as they were, as the subject changed to other topics, such as the arts and crafts tables being set up right there in the front room, with my husband still sleeping away.
Standing to the side, leaning against a waist high built-in counter, I saw a boy, wearing a deep blue with red striped short-sleeved shirt, the IDOD pin, khaki shorts below the knees, high top tennis shoes with the tongues sticking out and the untied shoelaces. I asked him how old he was. As he slung his bangs out of his eyes, he quietly said he was 11. His mother appeared out of nowhere, her in a lime green sleeveless dress and IDOD pin, saying the two of them had been in a car accident that day, for him to show me his ace bandages, on his ankle and elbow, which he did. She was still unnerved by “that other driver,” showing me her bandages, talking away about what he had done as she left the room, her son following her to join the music.
At this point, I was startled awake. For several seconds, I could not figure out where I was, as my dream had been so real. After I grasped my surroundings, I wanted to see if I could go back to see what would happen next in this two room cabin. I got comfortable on my pillows, took a tug at the covers, and said to myself to go inside the door of dreams. At that, I suddenly smiled;IDOD.
~Marie T. Morrison~
I must share my last night’s dream with you. My husband Tom and I were sharing a little cabin with our two daughters in the small town of Chama, NM. The girls were younger than they are now, perhaps about the ages of nine and seven. Getting ready for bed, they called out from the back room they were ready to be tucked in for the night. I went in to find them all smiles and quite dressed up, wearing pretty jumpers and beaded headbands. Saying how pretty they looked, I asked if they were sure they wanted to have on what they did to sleep under the covers. They nodded happily, telling me yes, that was right. I silently wished otherwise, but I only smiled back and gave them my kisses goodnight.
No sooner had I returned to the front room than the front door opened. A gentleman, hair to his shoulders, rather balding and a mustache curling around his lips walked in, carrying a set of bongo drums. He had on a brown vest, a white, buttoned downed top with the shirt-sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a bolo tie and jeans. Right behind him came a dark haired, dark eyed fellow carrying a banjo, dressed in similar manner, followed by a third gentleman, holding a guitar. My husband had nodded off, not noticing the commotion, which is actually quite typical; he can sleep through anything. I asked them who they were and what they were doing in our cabin. They said it was Chama’s social night and this was the cabin where everyone met. They walked on to the back room to get the music ready, much to the delight of my daughters, jumping out of bed, since they were most appropriately dressed for the occasion. Though it was odd to have them walk in, it did seem most natural to have them there.
More musicians came, as did the people of the town, all most cordial, saying hello to me as they walked by. I noticed everyone wore a circular button, about 1 ½” in size, pinned on the left of their clothing, near the chest, with four capital letters posted on it, IDOD, written in blue or red, against a white background. Curious, I asked what the word meant. An elderly man, dressed in a western shirt, said, “You know, none of us know. We were asked to wear it all the time, so we do.” More chimed into the conversation saying that was right, that they were always trying to figure out what it meant, but no one had “gotten it yet.” I was not sure who it was that asked them to start wearing the pin, but I threw in my own guess, of saying “Maybe it stands for the ‘International Discovery Of’ something.” They looked at one another, saying, “Yeah, maybe so. But what could be that something?” I was as puzzled as they were, as the subject changed to other topics, such as the arts and crafts tables being set up right there in the front room, with my husband still sleeping away.
Standing to the side, leaning against a waist high built-in counter, I saw a boy, wearing a deep blue with red striped short-sleeved shirt, the IDOD pin, khaki shorts below the knees, high top tennis shoes with the tongues sticking out and the untied shoelaces. I asked him how old he was. As he slung his bangs out of his eyes, he quietly said he was 11. His mother appeared out of nowhere, her in a lime green sleeveless dress and IDOD pin, saying the two of them had been in a car accident that day, for him to show me his ace bandages, on his ankle and elbow, which he did. She was still unnerved by “that other driver,” showing me her bandages, talking away about what he had done as she left the room, her son following her to join the music.
At this point, I was startled awake. For several seconds, I could not figure out where I was, as my dream had been so real. After I grasped my surroundings, I wanted to see if I could go back to see what would happen next in this two room cabin. I got comfortable on my pillows, took a tug at the covers, and said to myself to go inside the door of dreams. At that, I suddenly smiled;IDOD.
~Marie T. Morrison~
Thursday, July 21, 2011
AN AUDIENCE OF ONE
Thinking I was meeting with a younger group today, my audience had one man, in his mid-seventies, on oxygen. Not only that, but the meeting took place outside in the heat, with him in his car and me in my wheelchair, sitting in the church parking lot. What a great visit we had, talking and laughing as if there was not a care in the world. Sometimes, those meetings are just meant to be. As we both drove off, smiles on our faces, I said a prayer of thanks. My mournful mood needed that audience of one, he never knowing my frame of mind.
~Marie T. Morrison~
~Marie T. Morrison~
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
GETTING RID OF THE WEEDS
As hard as we try to get rid of the weeds in the garden, there always seems to be one or two that reappears. It wants to show who is in control. Continue to get rid of them, never letting them take over. As in life, goodness will take over those bad spots. God will be there, always backing you, as right choices are made.
~Marie T. Morrison~
~Marie T. Morrison~
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
NEVER LEAVES
A new day brings a fresh breath of air from the Spirit. Inhaling it can bring new hope, aromatic pleasures, a strong faith and a desire to welcome God’s love into our hearts. Whether it be whole, shattered or fractured, His love never leaves this soul spark of life.
~Marie T. Morrison~
~Marie T. Morrison~
THE TWO OF US
I began my silent day by turning on the news. What sensationalism was on! In less than ten minutes, I had turned off the chatter, enjoying the sensation of silence instead. This is what touches me more, what personally affects my mind, body and soul. It is how I can get the my thoughts unscrambled, leaving visions of a vast, spiritual, sea, an endless grassland or a majestic mountaintop silhouetted in shades of blue. It turns my reflections to God and prayer, a time for the two of us, becoming at peace.
~Marie T. Morrison~
~Marie T. Morrison~
Monday, July 18, 2011
A DIFFERENT REQUEST TODAY
I am writing a different request today. Close friends lost their 20 year old son Friday night, a suicide, found in his bedroom, sitting on the floor, a cord between his neck and the doornob. There were no warning signs. We feel we know those closest to us, but there is still that one hidden pocket we don't know about. Give extra hugs to those surrounding you today, utter the words, "I love you." Take them out to lunch. Hold their hands. Look into their eyes as they speak and you speak. Admire something important to them even though it may not be important to you.
If you know a family losing someone, sit down and write out a memory to mail off to them, letting them be buried in treasured memories, looking back upon them during the rough road ahead. Pray for those you love. Ask God to let them feel His blessings, as it can be a time to question them, though you and I know He is there to provide comfort and care. Pray they will feel God's peace and His grace as they move from hour to hour and day to day in all of the months ahead. This is a devout family, yet even the most devout can fall apart and ask how come.
For all of this, I thank you, and may God Bless You with his everlasting peace.
~Marie T. Morrison~
If you know a family losing someone, sit down and write out a memory to mail off to them, letting them be buried in treasured memories, looking back upon them during the rough road ahead. Pray for those you love. Ask God to let them feel His blessings, as it can be a time to question them, though you and I know He is there to provide comfort and care. Pray they will feel God's peace and His grace as they move from hour to hour and day to day in all of the months ahead. This is a devout family, yet even the most devout can fall apart and ask how come.
For all of this, I thank you, and may God Bless You with his everlasting peace.
~Marie T. Morrison~
Thursday, July 14, 2011
THE PUZZLE
I do get puzzled by what I am given at times. Do not mix this up with anger, as they are not the same. A puzzle provides a challenge, anger provides trouble and stress. A challenge is worthy, anger is not. Continue to welcome puzzles in life, while turning away any kind of anxiety.
~Marie T. Morrison~
~Marie T. Morrison~
THE RIGHT TIME
While helping someone in a positive way, with an excited response seen in return, it was not taken that way by one individual. Rather than taking it personally, I read it as not understanding the moment. I pray instead that the other will learn why it is important to teach a lesson at the here and now, not at a later time. Do not ever give up in what you and God believe is right.
~Marie T. Morrison~
~Marie T. Morrison~
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
TRYING
I misread what was in front of me, seeing “I am trying not to get tired,” instead of what it actually said, “I am trying not to get fired.” It made me smile, as I knew it was a message sent to me, telling me that to go ahead and keep going, to not let the idea of ‘tired’ get in the way. I know I will not be left alone as I move forward!
~Marie T. Morrison
~Marie T. Morrison
Sunday, July 10, 2011
SAYING IT WRONG
In my younger days, I would join a group of about eight friends every weekend for a cross country skiing experience. I loved being out there, conversing with God as I trekked up the mountainside, feeling the crisp air of 10,000+ feet, being buried deep among the trees, seeing the elite touch of each needle blanketed in snow, keeping snuggly warm, as I made my own path in the woods. I would be telling God how happy I was, what great friends I was with, thanking Him for this opportunity to be placed in such a “mighty fine” place. Where I had originally hated the cold, snowy season, not looking forward to driving the icy roads, I had become in love with this time of year, once I was introduced to cross country skiing. I was now in my own haven, loving the snow. Still a child at heart, I would scoop up a hand full of fresh fallen snow once in awhile, eating my snow cone, the flavor of nature, as melting snowflakes dribbled from my lips.
Though I would have my constant good-humored conversations with God as I climbed upwards toward the summit, expressing to Him how this coming week I would really try to stop a certain bad habit or withhold a conversation about a fellow co-worker, I would also be telling Him my big wish for the day. I would always making it to the summit just fine, but when it was time to ski down the mountainside I just climbed, I would fall down within seconds of starting my descent. I would not just fall once or twice, I would fall the whole way down. My fellow skier friends would zoom by, calling out to make sure I was doing okay, just being a split second blur before they were far below me. By now, they knew my routine of being on the ground more than on two feet, so they need not show concern, going on to enjoy the purpose of the sport, to ski through the woods, having their own moment of exhilaration. My wish, I told God once again, was wanting to go down this hill while observing it in an upright position. I continued, telling Him I did not know how much longer this group would include me on these weekend outings, as they had to wait at least 30 minutes for me to reach the starting point of our trip. Though they were kind, patience can grow thin, especially when the sun begins to set and the temperature drops several degrees. I would slowly drag in cold and wet, with the snow melting on my wool pants as I tumbled from one point of fall to the next.
I must say, I never would give up, no matter my number of falls or how wet and cold I became. At times, even my eyelashes had ice frozen onto them, the loose, soft and silent powder snow falling onto my face as I took my spill. What did change on my mind on that particular day happened after God talked to me about my wish. He told me that He would be with me, that I was approaching this whole thing wrong. I always started my descent by saying, “I am going to fall,” instead of saying, “Okay, God, let’s do this together!”
I could not wait to start the trip down, keeping quiet my new plan as we all ate our sack lunches. We packed up our thermos’ of tea and put away our meal wrappings into our backpacks. Skis were clipped on, hats and mittens were adjusted. We grinned at one another and said we would see one another soon. I motioned for the others to go before me, as I called out for them to have a good run. It gave me time to have one last talk with God, excitedly saying we were in this downward ride together. Giving my ski poles a push, off I went, saying, “Here we go, God!”
I did not fall. I remained upright! I was moving! I was gaining speed! God and I were laughing together! We were both calling out “We did it!” I was calling out to Him, “Look at me, God! Look at me! We are skiing! I’m not falling!” He responded, “No, because we are in this together!” The wind was cold, brisk and invigorating as it slapped against my cheeks. I became the blur as I passed one skier after another. They were bursting into laughter as I zoomed by them, as was I. The quiet forest now echoed with screams of happiness from everyone. All along, God and I were laughing together. He was saying to me, “See, I told you! All you had to do was tell me to be with you. Now look at you!”
As I flew into home base, being the second one to arrive, the friend in the group always arriving first , known by his speed, could not believe his eyes. I will never forget the look on his face, though it has been nearly 30 years. It was precious. His amazed eyes and jaw dropping low will be forever remembered. This loquacious friend could not utter a word! As others came in after me, they were still laughing, calling out to me in praise, asking me how I made such a turnaround.
I could only grin, silently praising God. What a lesson He taught me. It is one I have continued to share with others. Do not say, “Dear God, Let me do well,” rather, “Dear God, Let us do this together.” Since then, we have shared many more experiences together. What an astounding journey we have had!
~Marie T. Morrison~
7-10-11
Though I would have my constant good-humored conversations with God as I climbed upwards toward the summit, expressing to Him how this coming week I would really try to stop a certain bad habit or withhold a conversation about a fellow co-worker, I would also be telling Him my big wish for the day. I would always making it to the summit just fine, but when it was time to ski down the mountainside I just climbed, I would fall down within seconds of starting my descent. I would not just fall once or twice, I would fall the whole way down. My fellow skier friends would zoom by, calling out to make sure I was doing okay, just being a split second blur before they were far below me. By now, they knew my routine of being on the ground more than on two feet, so they need not show concern, going on to enjoy the purpose of the sport, to ski through the woods, having their own moment of exhilaration. My wish, I told God once again, was wanting to go down this hill while observing it in an upright position. I continued, telling Him I did not know how much longer this group would include me on these weekend outings, as they had to wait at least 30 minutes for me to reach the starting point of our trip. Though they were kind, patience can grow thin, especially when the sun begins to set and the temperature drops several degrees. I would slowly drag in cold and wet, with the snow melting on my wool pants as I tumbled from one point of fall to the next.
I must say, I never would give up, no matter my number of falls or how wet and cold I became. At times, even my eyelashes had ice frozen onto them, the loose, soft and silent powder snow falling onto my face as I took my spill. What did change on my mind on that particular day happened after God talked to me about my wish. He told me that He would be with me, that I was approaching this whole thing wrong. I always started my descent by saying, “I am going to fall,” instead of saying, “Okay, God, let’s do this together!”
I could not wait to start the trip down, keeping quiet my new plan as we all ate our sack lunches. We packed up our thermos’ of tea and put away our meal wrappings into our backpacks. Skis were clipped on, hats and mittens were adjusted. We grinned at one another and said we would see one another soon. I motioned for the others to go before me, as I called out for them to have a good run. It gave me time to have one last talk with God, excitedly saying we were in this downward ride together. Giving my ski poles a push, off I went, saying, “Here we go, God!”
I did not fall. I remained upright! I was moving! I was gaining speed! God and I were laughing together! We were both calling out “We did it!” I was calling out to Him, “Look at me, God! Look at me! We are skiing! I’m not falling!” He responded, “No, because we are in this together!” The wind was cold, brisk and invigorating as it slapped against my cheeks. I became the blur as I passed one skier after another. They were bursting into laughter as I zoomed by them, as was I. The quiet forest now echoed with screams of happiness from everyone. All along, God and I were laughing together. He was saying to me, “See, I told you! All you had to do was tell me to be with you. Now look at you!”
As I flew into home base, being the second one to arrive, the friend in the group always arriving first , known by his speed, could not believe his eyes. I will never forget the look on his face, though it has been nearly 30 years. It was precious. His amazed eyes and jaw dropping low will be forever remembered. This loquacious friend could not utter a word! As others came in after me, they were still laughing, calling out to me in praise, asking me how I made such a turnaround.
I could only grin, silently praising God. What a lesson He taught me. It is one I have continued to share with others. Do not say, “Dear God, Let me do well,” rather, “Dear God, Let us do this together.” Since then, we have shared many more experiences together. What an astounding journey we have had!
~Marie T. Morrison~
7-10-11
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