Weird Things We Hear Ourselves Say When Living With Little Ones

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A little collection from the past year or so:

“Don’t eat your tiara, honey.”

“It’s probably not a good idea to put a straw in the cup with the lizard.”

“Stop worrying about whether you’ll get in trouble or not, and tell me the truth: Where is your fish?”

“Your poop is huge and bright green because you’ve been eating too much candy and not enough green vegetables.”

“Yeah, I’m sure the birds are gonna love the way you put the red berries on sticks all along the driveway there.”

“Really, it’s okay. We would never ask you to go upstairs if there was an elephant up there.”

“You can’t “unpromise!” You already got your part of the deal!”

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Catch some of your words to kids and share them with us (hit comments button).

Joan T. Warren

Compassion and Collective Consciousness

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Hi friends–so many wonderful friends I’ve met here on WordPress, blogging. I ran across a sweet opportunity to join a group of 1,000 (+) bloggers who are writing about compassion. The plan is to “flood the internet” (though I doubt 1,000 blogs will constitute anything near a flood) with perspectives on compassion.

The floodgates open February 20, 2015.

It’s an idea that’s growing rapidly, with bloggers from all over the world joiniimageng in. I wish I could personally invite you all, so instead I’m mass-inviting you!

If you’re interested in participating, look for #1000Speak on Twitter and 1000 Voices for Compassion on Facebook.

Stay tuned here, too. I’ll be posting for compassion on 2/20.

 

Joan  T. Warren

Serenity

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This week’s photo challenge: Serenity

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I’ve heard it said that serenity is most noticed in the midst of turmoil and chaos.

 

Yes, there is a certain tried and true beauty to this concept.

 

 

 

for fellow survivors

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Joan T Warren:

Wow. An amazing manifesto for survivors of abuse found tonight on WordPress. I am reblogging for her to save it, and to pass it on! Please feel free to do the same.

Originally posted on The long Voyage Out:

 THE LONG VOYAGE OUT

The Epic Challenge of Recovery from Organized Abuse

- for my impossibly wondrous children

Alone is the lie perpetrators of organized abuse use to ensnare and imprison their victims. No one can hear you, no one can help you, no one will believe you. Others can’t be trusted. In this comply-or-die underworld, the myth of isolation is indispensable.

Compounding this stratum of alone enslavement is the double-edged sword of psychological dissociation. Victims of sadistic atrocities typically instinctively and unconsciously sequester life and sanity-threatening experience from normal conscious awareness in order to survive, creating yet another layer of secrecy and isolation – from one’s self. Perpetrators of organized abuse pervert this natural survival mechanism to control even the sacred inner worlds of their victims.

For those of us who were fortunate enough to survive being tortured and exploited, alone is once again the enemy of emancipation…

View original 7,284 more words

No Need for Eyes to See This

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This morning my granddaughter put on How to Train Your Dragon.  Again.

I sat nearby, reading and thinking, writing a bit, occasionally paying slight attention to the movie.

“In centuries of Vikings, I’m the first one who wouldn’t kill a dragon,” Hiccup sulked to Astrid. Feeling the failure of not living up to his culture’s expectations, feeling the sting of disappointing his father, Hiccup doubted himself. Astrid saw beyond this temporary setback:

“Yeah, the first one who was right.”

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Hiccup had decided to spare the dragon when he looked into its eyes and realized, “He was just as afraid as I was.” Hiccup saw with the eyes of his heart.

His compassion, as it turned out, changed everything. It changed his father. It changed his village. It changed dragons. It changed him.

We like to think we are far more advanced than the world of Vikings and dragons. But are we?

Do we see with the eyes of our hearts?

Do we find the good?

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©Joan T. Warren

Hang on. Or, Let go.

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Walking out from yoga class tonight, I stopped. A beautiful clutch of autumn leaves held on, unashamed to be the last among all that was gray and dismal.

It is January, in North Florida.

 

I thought of all the times that I’ve heard people say, “Hang on. . . just hang on.”
 
I thought of all the times I’ve heard people say, “Let go. . . just let go and let God.”
 
I thought about how many times it’s been good to hold on, and how many times it’s been good to let go.
 
I thought about the years I struggled, trying so hard to hold on, or trying so hard to let go. Because they said so.
 
Now, at peace. . . with letting go. . . with holding on. At peace with wherever a person is in that process.
 
When it is time to let go, you will know it, and you will be able to let go. When is time for you to hold on, you will know it, and you will be able to hold on.

So hold on, or let go.

Namaste,  salmon leaves of January.

Namaste, Tree Maker.

Namaste, friends.

©Joan T. Warren

In a Blink

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IMG_3751She came into this world

and they wrapped her in pink:

A present from God,

with a smile and a wink–

 

IMG_3753“So you think you’re unloved,

not important, unnoticed?

Take a look in her eyes–

Here you see what you’ve missed.”

 

IMG_3757She looked to me, open,

trusting and calm.

I held her with wonder;

to my soul she was balm.

 

“Hi,” I said, smiling,

“I’m so glad you’re here.

I am your mama. . .

You’re precious and dear.”

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“I may be quite young,

inexperienced and poor–

but I promise to give

all I can, and then more. . .”

 

. . .to love you, protect you

to be sure you’re okay.

We’ll take life on together~

I’ll show you the way.”

 

IMG_3760Gentle and tender,

her manner so sweet

compassionate and curious–

being with her, a treat.

 

She grew up too quickly!

IMG_3761She grew up with grace.

We grew up together,

through each challenge we’d face.

 

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Deni18for40Bday 001Then, one day, all too soon,

she announced it was time:

She’d be moving on into

her rhythm and rhyme.

 

Though I knew it was coming,

my heart cried as I called,

“God, now, You keep her,

and don’t let her fall.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1916027_165277763330_4325366_nBefore too many years,

she gave birth to a son.

She held him, and gazed

at the gift she had won.

 

And she wondered aloud,

“Could anyone, anywhere feel this much love?

It is powerful, mighty,

and sent from above.”

 

Deeply moved and touched,

at this feeling we share,

my heart broke a little~

that she wasn’t aware. . .

 

. . .that I’d loved her this much,

all her life, every day!

Had she not known it then?

Had I failed in this way?

 

Again on my knees,

asking God, for my blossom . .

to know that I love her,

to know she is awesome.

 

As I looked in His eyes,

saw His gleam shining back,

I recalled what He told me–

that I’d found what I’d lacked.

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Any sense that we’ve had

that we lack rhyme or reason,

that we’re not loved or special,

that we’re born out of season. . .

 

. . . is a sense we each share,

though He speaks to us all–

through our neighbors, our parents,

through children, a call.

 

Though He sent His own son;

proved His love beyond question,

we each need to find Him

in our own time and fashion.

 

Now my little pink package

is forty-two, in a wink–

and her son, and her daughter,

also grew in a blink!

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And she grieves, as she must

let them go on their choosing,

and she helps them

and tries not to think she is losing.

 

And before too much longer

one of them will be gazing

in their own baby’s eyes,

with a love that’s amazing.

 

And I smile as I witness

what too many missed. . .

well aware now,

I’m loved, important, and noticed.

 

Well aware that the task now

is to pass the baton

to comfort, encourage

as the race journeys on–

 

Generations have lived,

generations will come.

May we each gather love;

may we each grow it some.

 

May God’s passion flare steadily,

our hearts to incline;

in forbearance, in faith,

and in mercy divine.

 

May my dear little baby,

with life now mid-swing,

feel the joy that the second

half of life’s sure to bring.

 

Happy Birthday, Denesia Christine!

Gracefully Determined, Christ-Light-Bearer

 

Loving you more each day,

Mom
©Joan T Warren

 

Four-Dimensional Thinking: 2014 Review, and More!

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Image thanks to: http://baristanet.com/2014/12/ring-2015-one-local-new-years-eve-parties/

 

You may have heard of three dimensional thinking; considering past, present and future. As we close out 2014, and welcome the new year, I’d like to propose we consider not just 3-D thinking, but four dimensional thinking as well.

Three dimensional thinking has been around a long time. Two thousand years ago, the Apostle Paul penned his 3-D approach to life:

Brethren, I count not myself to have apprehended: but this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus. -Philippians 3:13-14 King James Version

It sounds like three things, yet he says “this one thing I do.” The one thing is 3-D thinking: forgetting the past, reaching for the future, pressing on toward the goal.

Personally, I get stuck on the first part of the three. Forget the past? I like to cherish memories, learn from them, and pass those precious lessons on to future generations. Perhaps the original language of this scripture didn’t literally mean “forgetting,” as in loss of memory, for we know those with constant memory loss struggle to function in daily life. Perhaps the connotation of “forgetting” is letting the past be the past. Instead of living in the past, ruminating over things we wish we’d done better, shaming ourselves, or resenting others for things they did, perhaps it means viewing the past with open hands, letting it be what it was, and finding a way of being at peace with the past.

That, in itself, is no easy accomplishment.

The next dimension to consider is the future–reaching for what lies before us. Again, a tricky one for me. How can we see the future, so that we may reach for it? The future isn’t tangible. We haven’t seen it, touched it, felt its sensations, relished its joys or grieved its sorrows. The future is envisioned. The future is malleable; we create it as we go, at least those things that are within our power and choice. The future holds hope, for those who find its invisible tethers and use them to anchor and reign ourselves toward its best fulfillment. We reach for it. It is elusive and inspirational at once.

The next dimension we know. It is the gift of now. Letting our firm grip on the past go, reaching forward to our envisioned goal, the present is active. Not dashed to and fro or laid low by trials and challenges, the present decides, rather, to press on. The present offers an opportunity to make a difference; to lean into, to give sufficient force toward that which we aim to achieve. A runner in a race, the present senses what is behind, is not distracted by it, but commits herself entirely to reaching the finish line.

So, we have 3-D thinking, and it is a powerful way to live. What, then, of this fourth dimension? Is it not enough to give our strength and effort toward pressing on to our mark?

The fourth dimension is inside of us, and all around us. The fourth dimension is spiritual. It is openness. . . openness to see barriers within ourselves that hinder, and to cooperate with Love in letting them be transformed. It is openness to see Love at work in others, whether friend or foe, and cooperate with Love’s work toward building all things together, creating beauty from ashes. It is openness to see the world around us and the ways our planet–even our universe–needs tending if it is to flourish and sustain us until it is time for the new heaven and earth. It is our spirit, not yet having achieved, but flowing with Love’s Holy Spirit. Having tasted each day of this glory that is, we embrace Love as we press forward into what glory is to come.

As we count down the seconds closing the year 2014, and formulate our new year’s resolutions, let’s add another dimension to hone our approach to the new year. Let’s commit to learning from, but letting go of, the past, so it does not distract us. Let our goals be Love’s goals, and let us cooperate with–no, more than cooperate–press on toward this high calling of Love. Let’s do so with spirit, from the inside, out.

I want to also take a moment to thank you, my WordPress Blog readers and followers, for spending time with me this year. I treasure the thought that my words are important enough to you that you choose to take some of your precious time to read them, consider them, and engage in comments and feedback.

I also want to thank WordPress for facilitating this new mode of exchange! WordPress put together a summary of this blog from 2014. Its amazing to me that people from all over the world have “met” me here, and that I have briefly met you, too.

Here's a snapshot of global readers from this year. The list on the left was too long to fit in the snapshot!

Here’s a snapshot of global readers from this year: 80 countries in all. The list on the left was too long to fit in the snapshot!

As I let go of 2014, I will be thinking of all of you, and pressing on toward making 2015 a year of better writing, better engagement, and better 4-D thinking.

Here’s what WordPress summarized for me, have a look:

Here’s an excerpt:

A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 3,500 times in 2014. If it were a cable car, it would take about 58 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

 

Happy New Year Everyone!

©Joan T. Warren

 

Passing

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Untimely for we who stay,

Torn in sore lament–

Time and distance

Ne’er to be breached again;

Not from our doing.

Resigned unto eternity

Or waiting to be joined again

When breath doth cease.

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Then, to know

What now we hope~

In faith, our spirits to retain,

Enjoined in blissful freedom

From all that tortures here–

Or utter loss,

Will cease to be

‘Twas all for naught–

To know, then.

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What now you know,

Oh, dear one.

I feel you free,

Calling back,

Take heart,

Live on,

Believe.

Together we will be.

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In purity,

Resolved of all that held us back

‘Tis going now,

Already,

As I pass,

You see a bit, of me.

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Let go of what impairs

Even now.

Free.

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Grieving, you feel me.

All that I lived for,

Embrace.

All that you feel,

All that you think, wonder and eschew,

Release.

Share.

Cry, dear, cry.

For it is in this full admission

That we

Receive comfort,

One to another

Eventually,

To enter my joy.

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Acceptance,

And waiting,

In patience,

Forbearance,

And fidelity.

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Watching over those

I would have tended

Carry them now, for me.

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Torch-bearing

Passed

In camaraderie.

~

©Joan T. Warren

In honor and memory of a wonderful woman, mother, grandmother:

~Paula Huttula~

Passing and raised to eternal life, 12-12-14

With love and prayers for all who mourn her passing, and for all who mourn, everywhere.

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Are you akin to kindness?

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It’s not news; as far as history traces our interactions, we humans have had troubles with one another. We get ourselves tied in knots worrying about the latest news: a new terrorist group here, a gang murder there, racist violence and religious discord– just about everywhere. So-called civilized or savage, we are humans, and we have too often let our worst sides get the best of us.

I heard once that for every negative statement we give to another, that person needs at least ten positives to recover! I don’t know how much scientific research went into that number, but I do know this:

We flourish in an atmosphere of kindness.

Kindness is more than holding your breath while you give the homeless man a quarter. It is more than holding your tongue when you want to correct your coworker’s frequent mistakes. It’s even more than a side-hug and a cheek-kiss greeting when you’d rather not be there at all.

 

Kindness comes from recognizing what is alike, or kin, between us.

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Kindness happens when we feel the sort of kinship with another that we do with our children as they stumble through toddler-hood, spilling juice on the carpet, creating a masterpiece with crayons on the wall, or toilet paper installations across the bathroom floor.

Kindness happens when we realize our errancy.

Kindness begins when we realize we were treated with kindness when a harsher sentence would have been just.

Kindness flows when we come to the place of accepting that we cannot change everyone else; that it’s all we can manage to change ourselves.

Kindness swells when we realize those we formerly eschewed actually had something to offer us.

Kindness flourishes when we find time in our days to care for ourselves, for others and even for the piece of the planet where we dwell.

An old friend once told me that he always tries to leave each place he goes a little better than when he enters. Sometimes that’s as simple as picking up a piece of toilet paper that someone else left on the public bathroom floor. That’s kindness. It doesn’t need to be noticed, commended or lauded. It is kind because it is kin; kin with creation, kin with all.

Are you akin to kindness?

 

KINDNESS song, written by Brian McLaren

Christ has no body here but ours
No hands no feet here, on earth but ours
Ours the eyes through which he looks
On this world with kindness
Ours are the hands through which he works
Ours are the feet on which he moves
Ours the voices through which he speaks
To this world with kindness
Through our touch, our smile, our listening ear
Embodied in us, Jesus is living here
Let us go now—enspirited
Into this world with kindness.

 

Today’s inspiration thanks to:

http://blog.stevebell.com/2014/10/open-letter-to-faith-day-attendees-calgary-catholic-schools-oct-31/#sthash.McjOSopK.dpuf

 

Thanks for your kindness,

©Joan T. Warren

Dark Chocolate to my Soul

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First smile from my baby~

Fingertips at my back~

Purple hued sunsets o’er mountain or sea.

A word fitly spoken~

Laughing toddlers at play~

Secret gifts sent before there’s a plea.

 

Birds chirp at breakfast~

A room with a view~

Grown-up baby, saying, “I love you.”

A mother’s dedication~

A father’s heart, pure~

A book with great character, hearts so true.

 

An unsung hero~

A selfless deed~

Rows of fresh radishes, lettuce and beans.

Bike ride in evening~

Canoes on a lake~

Heart-felt apologies from reckless teens.

 

Skipping stones on the water~

Swinging ABC’s~

Old photos revealing the man was a boy.

Wrought iron furniture~

Ferns in the rain~

A song that effuses my tears, into joy.

 

Flowers on the table~

Landscapes with depth~

Vines climbing over an old stone wall.

An old soldier honored~

A chore turned with dance~

An old hymn, hummed by stranger, in mall.

 

Really good neighbors~

A clean house to enjoy~

Climbing a tree to see from above.

Old friends and family~

Lessons from kids~

Crossing a line in the name of love.

 

Beauty for ashes~

The cross on a hill~

An old woman displaying love’s attitude.

Waves gently lapping~

Sand soft as silk~

A sofa, soft pillows, and candlelight mood.

 

A poem that soars~

A chapter writ~

Curving branches of an old oak tree.

Eyes, hearts, locked~

Hands entwined~

My man and I, moving in harmony.

 

A heart-to-heart~

A good night’s sleep~

Fresh fruit arranged in a blue porcelain bowl.

Eyes that twinkle~

Sun-kiss on my cheek~

All: dark chocolate to my soul.

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Behind the scenes:
It may be a bit absurd, but I was thinking today about how to incorporate more healthy choices into my days. I’ve been widening in the middle, partly due to my love of chocolate! While dark chocolate is now on the list of superfoods (albeit the tiniest spec on the pyramid), it too often comes with not-so-super fats, sugars and calories! Equating dark chocolate with indulgence, divinity and even sinful pleasures, I began thinking about how to replace this sense of indulgence with things that AREN’T eaten! This loosely formed poem is the rather absurd result! If I indulge in the things that mean the most (the things that endure), perhaps their richness will take the place of that extra sweet treat.

©Joan T. Warren
Heart to Heart in a Shielded World

Yep, you said it:
That’s Absurd | The Daily Post

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_writing_challenge/thats-absurd/

For the things that endure mean the most:
Endurance | The Daily Post

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_photo_challenge/endurance/

But I Don’t Wanna Go On a ‘Bencher!

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But I Don’t Wanna Go On a ‘Bencher!

Adventure.

There’s so much in a word. What’s your take on the word adventure?

Some say it’s about taking a risk, trying something new, or exploring new territory.

Some say life’s an adventure.

Here’s a little story, based on a real episode, involving adventure:

They passed the turn toward home, and Missy, though only three, knew they had missed it. “Wher’re we goin’?”

“We’re going on an adventure!,” Nana proffered, in her most excited tone.

“But I don’t wanna go on a ‘bencher! I want my mommy!”

Nana drew in a breath and considered her response. She knew the meltdown would only last a few minutes, but it broke her heart every time. She knew, by now–by the tone of Missy’s voice, the rate of her breathing, the look on her face–whether she was ready for an explanation, or comfort, or distraction, or whether words would only make it worse. This time she chose a brief explanation, followed by a time of respite for Missy to regain her composure. When the time was right, Nana brought in the highlights of the upcoming trip.

“We’re going to Tampa, to see Cousin Stevie, play in the pool, and visit a place with lots of pretty fish to see!”

“Stevie? Yay, Stevie! I miss him so much!”

Missy cheered up. The rest of the trip she counted cows and horses on the hillside, “loved” her new bedroom, devoured popsicles at the pool and hung on Cousin Stevie all through the exciting trip through the aquarium. It ended too soon.

Along the way

Along the way

One Cool Chick

One Cool Chick

Checking out the Giant Mr. Grouper with "Cousin Stevie"

Checking out Giant Mr. Grouper with “Cousin Stevie”

On the ride back home, Missy’s love for adventure blossomed.

“I like Tampa. When can we go on another ‘bencher, Nana?”

Lookin' for Adventure!

Lookin’ for Adventure!

No matter the level of risk involved, all adventures are a little scary. We can’t always have our mommies with us. Sometimes we get stuck and afraid of stepping out. Sometimes outside forces launch us on adventures we’re not so sure we want to go on. When this happens, we can take time to process it, like Missy did, and end up embracing the experience. If we look for the good, there’s always something to gain. . . eventually.

With risks weighed against benefits, we can usually make good choices about our adventures in life.

That’s my take on adventures for today. What’s yours? Have you a little story of adventure you can share? It’s your turn now!

Joan T. Warren

With appreciation for this week’s WordPress Prompt.

 

Has Anybody?

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“Has anybody told you today?”

“Well, just in case, I’m telling you again: I love you.”

It was his trademark; his brand, calling card. If you saw Mickey, you could count on hearing these words. You could count on a hug and a smile. If not from him directly, from many around you, as he facilitated groups and classes to “get up, tell someone you love them, hug a neck.”

He was the Cowboy Preacher. The Drunk Preacher, some called him. He’d chuckle. I doubt he’d ever had a drop of alcohol in his life.

He sought out drunks, with a purpose, to share God’s amazing love.

(That was back in the day, before political correctness and biochemical studies taught us to call drunks “people with alcoholism,” which, yes, is a gentler, kinder term, no harm ever intended by using the old word.)

In 1962, Mickey ventured into the snake- and alligator-infested backwoods, near the deep south’s Lake Okeechobee, cleared some land about ten miles down a bumpy dirt road, hauled in some used rustic cabins and created a place for drunks to sober up. His idea, to provide not just a bed to sleep it off, but a place where hard work meets prayer, and confrontational truth-speaking-in-love results in changed men. A City of Refuge. His hard work had just begun.

His idea grew. Today, Dunklin Memorial is an internationally-renowned center for people overcoming drug and alcohol addiction. It can boast recidivism rates far better than those of centers catering to the rich and famous. It is also a place where families of people with addiction can recover and transform. It is a ministry training and retreat center. It is a church, where the body of Christ is people using their gifts and abilities to help one another, rather than a building sitting empty all week. It is the center hub of a circle of half-way houses, home and community support groups. Cottage industries, like cattle farming, orange groves, and pallet recycling, give residents hard work to do and help the program be self-supportive. It is a model center that is willing to share its success secrets freely to any who want to replicate it in their part of the world. Its curriculum is translated into several languages.

Mickey on Prayer Island, at DMC. . .  a contemplative moment

Mickey on Prayer Island, at DMC. . . a contemplative moment Photo courtesy of Larry McKenna

That says a little something about this man, the Drunk Preacher, Mickey Evans. There is so much more to say. Words are inadequate, but in an attempt to describe him, I would choose words like

unassuming,

humble,

bold,

gentle,

serious,

fun,

innovative,

dedicated,

practical,

visionary,

tenacious,

unwavering,

creative,

resourceful,

and, most importantly,

loving, honest, and relational.

 

 

He continued to grow and adapt throughout his life, deepening his understanding of the recovery process and the need for transformation for leaders, helpers and addicts alike. He was the guru of the Daily Moral Inventory, a mirror to check and accept responsibility for your attitudes each day. He taught us to take the finger that so easily points at others (“but it’s all your fault”) and turn it (though it fights all the way) to point at ourselves (the only one we can change, after all). He taught us to use all of our capacities, including our senses, inner vision, imagination and even open eyes and ears when we pray, for God is in us, around us, and in our loved ones as well. God may speak to us from any of these sources. He worked toward responsibility in all areas, including sustainable agriculture, clean water, ecologically sound waste management and understanding cultural diversity.

“How old is that little boy?” –another trademark question. “Now take the cotton out of your ears and put it in your mouth.” Only Mickey could get away with speaking this way to a defensive, angry man who needed to hear it. He could say it, with authority–a shocking blend of firmness and gentleness–and the hardest head would break down and listen.

When I met him, back in the eighties, I was a twenty-something transplant from Washington, D. C., all fired up for ministry training. I remember being amazed at Mickey’s servant-leadership style, but I was also a bit afraid of him! When his lip quivered and his grin bared his teeth, I held onto my seat, for someone was about to get a dose of truth. I had never witnessed a christian leader being confrontational before. It impressed me and scared me at the same time! Yet he was kind. And wise. Under his honest leadership, I learned to face my fears, and I grew up. By the time I graduated, I faced life with a new awareness, in large part due to Mickey Evans. I was aware of my ongoing need to heal and grow, aware of the value of relationships as a measure of recovery, aware of the complexities of life transformation. I was willing to be a facilitator of change for those who wanted to change. I learned to accept each person’s decisions as their own.

“I cannot change another person by direct action. I can only change myself, and that by the grace of God.”

This was Mickey’s mantra, which he lovingly entitled “The Bombshell Theory,” because “it’ll blow your mind.” It really does.

Mickey modeled health in family relationships. “This is my beloved wife, in whom I am well-pleased,” he would say, introducing his wife, Laura Maye. When families joined the men in the program each weekend, Mickey facilitated positivity, respect and appreciation for loved ones. Men responded to his example and held themselves accountable to making amends, to loving and respecting, where once they used, lied, stole and projected blame. Marriages rekindled.

As he aged, Mickey seemed at peace with gradually raising up leaders to take over his job. He used to quote Jesus, “greater works shall ye do. . .” His long-range planning to prepare others to carry on his work was nothing short of genius. It must have been challenging for him to let go of his baby, but he rested easy, trusting the One who had begun a good work to carry it through to completion. Mickey’s style of trust was practical, though: he planned, prepared, reeled in, and let loose, over and over again, until he knew he’d done all he could do.

Picture created by Dean Evans

Picture created by Dean Evans, his son

Brother Mickey Evans passed this week, after a long life, shining brightly. His light stems from, and moves into, eternity. As one candle bows to light another, light spreads exponentially, filling the earth.

 

courtesy wikipedia

courtesy Wikipedia

Brother Mickey, we will miss you here. We thank you for your amazing gifts and dedication. We are grateful to carry on this light; to be torch-bearers, humbly and quietly sharing life, transformed by love. Enjoy your new place; we’ll see you again soon.

Dear reader, has anybody told you today?

Well, just in case, I’m telling you again, I love you!

Pass it on ~

 

©Joan T. Warren

Heart to Heart in a Shielded World

Feel with your Eyes

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There is beauty all around us, if we look beyond the guise we can see it with our fingers we can feel it with our eyes we can smell it in a memory and appreciate the ties There are textures, scents and glories Whether near or far, the prize we can listen to its calling […]