Tag: home

“No, blood does not matter anymore”

We have had tea together a thousand times in these cane chairs facing her curry leaf tree and windows hung with old silk curtains.

Sia is a good woman with friends and folks who love her; why wouldn’t they, she is not just strikingly entertaining, she is one of the loveliest persons I have ever met. Dark long classic almond eyes in a determined oval shaped face set in wheat gold skin you want to paint! ( I’ve tried painting Sia and will try again; she is a hundred stories and I must wait to capture all their colours, oh she’s generous with comment and has booked a canvas from my battered easel). I was saying though, beneath that nice surface is soft steel, easier to break than I suspected possible.

“I should not insist on being loved by my only sibling, but uhm, who said blood is thicker than anything else? It is a liquid and it can dry up like a forgotten river.”

Sia talks that way between better days, so I’m not all surprised, and yet today the moment simmers like her eyes: they brim with aloneness.

“One should know they are not needed or loved anymore, but I still hang on, I follow my sister, I wait for her to come home, I remember our childhood too much, now…it changes? Because...?”

I have not one nice warm thing to say. Her gold lemon tea with mint leaf waits in white ceramic; I cannot breathe, her hurt has to ebb. It doesn’t.

“..is alright,” she continues as if she heard me. “Let’s have that mint from my herbal pot, hehe!”

Just when I was settling into her sorrow she turns into the rising sun.

“You know, Ray. I do not feel bitter anymore?! They do not want me, that is fine. We fight for those we need to keep. Once that is not there anymore, what is the fight? How is the painting coming up?“

“What painting?!” I ask without thinking and her face blows up in laughter. Without warning, Sia Mayben is a skyful of crackers!

“This is what I love best about you, girl. You are not picking problems, you do not care, you walk in a Light that is not the sun.”

I do?

“…and there’s a God and He loves you, loves me. My entire life I hate Him, but He never leaves. Never. Nah….Yem! ” She says that for ‘yes’ occasionally, it’s her unusual upbringing; I will never know where she totally grew up in. She sounds like ghettos sometimes- raw, dismembered, and then she is a fountain of healing.

Today for some reason I’m the cause of her healing? I said / did nothing, but the woman isn’t listening. At 80+ she’s earned that right. She talks about her dead sis like she’s there in the next room, then she turns into the Psalmist.

I promise to finish her painting as soons I get more time between comforting Kitsy our second daughter whose Crayfish ate up her beloved Molly– I didn’t dare tell her ‘I told you so’,

Oh but I did tell her,

that, and our youngest fantastic blind 21 year old declaring hatred for his walking cane-

yes, must paint Sia. She is the color of an earth poised to smile: the blood in her runs deep as a river that never forgets. Did her sister really not love her? I’ll never know – Alzheimer’s is a deadly treasure trove.

Though, it makes Sia all the more a mystery to peer through – at a world aching for rest.

“Blood doesn’t matter …” Is a sentence laced heavy with truth. I know at least 2 adopted human beings whose love is not enarmoured by genetics.

Weaving my way back home between Bipolar auto rickshaws and pre- monsoon showers pelting the sidewalk, I can’t help feeling Sia’s feelings. Yem. There’s more that matters, than just blood.

‘Go to the ant thou sluggard,’ He said

At the Pet Sanctuary we met Hedgehog with soulful eyes (tattoos belong to Guide).

*Hedge hogs are camera shy, did you know???*

*he curls into this* 💜 *with Alpha skills at enduring camera lens!*

Silver peasant– the male is way more “Dude” than missus. She is”plain” for camouflage against predators as she tends their young. Male boy is cuter – so he can distract roving evil eye, often even giving his life for her & their babies.

…later we are told the handsome iguana has whiplash tail that can break bones.

*Maya*– rescued with her mate from local street. Someone let their horses go?

Sir Guinea Pig. (Global Pharma/Cosmetics and Psych Labs: why endanger these beauties?)

*..every chitter said the same thing, that we humans saw too little of the Creator in all our doings/ undoing;*

“*What can I say?”* I asked Sir Guinea. “**God is good,**“he replied. “*Eden to here, He’s good all the time. Wish you could see it from my centimeters. Y’all too tall.*“

Outside Prani Pet Sanctuary, ‘*long necked rushes’* we took home👇🏼

Everything reminds me of the Matrix of Things hidden from human reasoning;
of a Single Hand that meshes all Species in one stroke.

🌿

Every piece of Light and Thought, all War & Crime,

Evil itself reflects what it opposes. Violence turns our eye on Peace, Hate drives hard a case on Love, Disbelief singularily champions a running away from Belief 👉🏼in the very Thing all Creation points to.

When we go out into a universe full of Footprints of the Unknown,

It stares us in the face – this Oneness written into all Living Features:

patterns of Interaction, of Bonding or not, of Phonetic / other Exchanges between the bars of Cages and Pens

things we are not prepared for, things that happen when a rabbit and turkey, gosling or rescued pony meet your whisper, with a sound that can only be described as the Language of Creation~

in syllables that connect us all in one shared Room called Planet Earth;

each of us with unique fingerprints and more ‘unique’ we haven’t even begun to know,

🌷🦓🦗🍂

every eye and tongue of us flora, fauna and homo sapien: inimitable, no matter the sophistication of stem cell theories and other.

The older I get the more gawk-eyed I am, about how little we care about where we’re headed after we leave all this-

that world beyond what human iris can now see,

**Divine Dad please lead me** (pic with Noe& our visually challenged son)

*Fish*! Our home slowly turns into an aquarium. Since this pic, we have four more bowls and tails and snout gazing at us in speechless knowledge I envy.

“I lay hold of that for which Christ laid hold of me...” Philippians 3:12.

bloganuary prompt

“No be afraid!”

Luke 2:10.

We bought this crib at a Home where they made tiny clay models depicting the lowly birth of Jesus among other things, but this 12 piece set caught our eye.

Sis Sarai* introduced us to inmates with disabilities: they wheeled in, limped, muttered and some smiled hard. There was Lila, with a withered hand and she beamed like a Lighthouse in the dark proudly displaying each shining member of the crib. She too had worked on these miniatures, the woman said in slow Hindi and some English.

Lila recounted the Bethlehem story, “No be afraid,” her voice shaky from an illness as she mimicked the Angel! One or two inmates yawned. Another looked away. Amazing how a picture can retell an old story and you understand a little more today than ever before.

The details blur then re-assemble.

After all these years I revisit the fearlessness in this round eyed woman with the one little arm, as they sang “Away in a manger” & Silent night, in unsteady candle light. We were at their Carol service; after a Bible-reading Lila prayed simple words of trust in the Lord Jesus who taught her to be unafraid.

Our eldest, Vihan was almost 4 years old that December: I, recovering from a chronic fever knew about Fear from Hospital waiting rooms and labs as my husband and I awaited more of my test results over and over,

here at the Home now, we received the Good News of our Savior’s undying Love as if for the first time, via a ‘destitute’ woman with one good hand and 1000 watt smile;

no special powers to these tiny clay folk still in our celebrations each year;

as we bring out ‘Christmas- decor’ 2021, go cherish the Good News of this Unstoppable Cradle King that no hell could prevail against, for you and me and all for Humanity: lest we forget.

My spirit fills with gratitude that over the years, Christ has not stayed in clay, but has gazed into my life with very real Presence. The reality of Christmas is fantastic: this Christ that grew to take on a Cross, a Resurrection Garden; He would walk through walls to get through to my heart of stone.

May the heart of you be warmed this season, with True Love from the Manger.

_________________________

* All names changed.

From our home to yours this Christmas 2020!

Part of our Fellowship’s zoom candle light carols night, this was our fam’s medley of old carols and new harmonies improvised; wishing you a blessed day today and always; may the Lord of Light, Peace, Joy & true Love fill your days with His Song, all of now and the days to follow, stay precious!

Vision

From my daughter Vihan’s insta post :

“Eyes with no vision or vision with no eyes? Who can see better?”

Pitch perfect Prayer for July

I tried to pray today, it was like going to a store and not wanting anything any more except a counter that could take requests for giving. Giving thanks.

In all the recent Mayhem and Jittery June Viral chaos, the centre of me sat down to stare at another month for all of us. Suddenly the things that used to scare me don’t anymore. How come? The people that used to taunt, seem to have lost fang and fuss. Now how?! I don’t know. The rabid need for money seems to have bitten off it’s own head. Sure we all still need the MO but something’s changed and we’re a little less orthodox about our own goodness. We’re all a little more orthodox about our own littleness. We are maybe more crazy and yelly 😅 if that’s a word. We are kinder, if that’s possible. Those who never spoke now speak. The insanely noisy have become quiet. Me, I begin to pray and end up speechless. I remember my Prayer List last year this time. How I’ve changed, haven’t we all?

July, how’re you going to be? Will I be pretty, will I be rich… here’s what he said to me.. que sera sera… if you remember that song.

Meanwhile our 19 year old heals in new ways. The hyperaction you see in below video has decreased way more than we thought possible. He’s still pitch perfect, and a crazy guy for calender memory. And a whole host of things.

Am grateful for the tremendous healing he’s had over the past month. We’re able to play like we used to, chat .. .

He actively hates Covid for the restrictions its imposed on our outdoor lives but home has become a more beautiful place with its quiet surroundings and green. Our lil gardens grow with the rains this monsoon; trees fill with new kinds of birds. Yeah I am speechless this July, with deep need for better days yes, but also gratitude for the million gifts we may not even know we were born with.

This July I’m praying we will know and use our gifts well. What a tragedy to not notice the stash within us.

This July what’s my personal Pitch

The language of Anji’s place

Three rooms in all, and one for her well stocked food place; it is antique and new every morning even now with only a few sitting in. Some ask for her pickles, others pack a lunch of tomato rice, boiled eggs oh anything Anji may have. Somedays it isnt much at all. Yesterday she had garlic bread and home made sauces you want, you really want. It is like her- spiced just right, its essence rich with simple things.

***

after lockdown we look more at the simple things and less at the complicated, say?

Anji has lived a simple life, nothing changes now for her. After her husband passed and her kids moved on, it’s been a quiet life. People who go by her Place know she isnt competitive, she looks at your face with a smile; and if you’re not happy she knows it. You get an extra helping.

She is different I guess; also has violet eyes and tiny curly brows. Must’ve been a ravishing beauty, oh still is. Her Ma was from Spain, her Pa from Zimbabwe. She speaks all our languages dont ask me how. Some people are gifted with more than the tongues of angels.

As another day begins I’m lingering on the thought that our homes speak a language we may not all recognize but others can.

From around my home

A Letter to you: (inspired by a blog-friend)

Heal Warrior,

know you are Loved by a Force you cannot see, but One that sees you. Regret nothing but what you deprive yourself of tomorrow. Love generously, live every minute, I mean LIVE. Lockdown all noise that Intrudes. We deserve more than we give ourselves. You are No.1 and should be in your list of beautiful things this side of heaven. You are precious, more than trees and leaves of all the pages ever written anywhere on earth, aren’t you?

Aren’t you? Look deep in the eyes of your heart and read the preciousness with which you were created. See how Someone died so you and I could live free as we do, children of an earth almost too blest. Aren’t we, too blest? Warrior friend mine, yes you,

I write this with an urgency I do not understand: there’s a day to live for today and you and I must excel all expectations to just be normal. We ride above the boring norms we chalked out for yesterday… eh warrior please let go of yesterday’s habits, yesterday’s nightmares, let go, let go of tomorrow’s predictions, let’s be who we were, we are, will be… warriors in love and Peace: nothing missing, nothing broken-

we were made for days as these in a Love that forever breathes heavens’ brand of peace Warrior, please.

Old calendar, in tiny easel. Some Words never fail, no matter the way humans err and one decade after another breaks down in the stress of Time.
Last night we watched the third episode of CHOSEN, is brilliantly put together: the life of *Yeshua* as seen creatively by Producers’ unique brand of wit that comes from a seriously awe-filled place. Yes some Americanese in it(…”you kidding me?!” Said by Hebrew disciple), which is in any case versatility at best😃but besides that, surprisingly good – after watching way too many Jesus films, this still grabs. Looking forward to seeing the last episode now.

***

**My little Harp girl** in Water Colour, and paper roses (no florist around), yes, babe pics of our kids still around the house: Reminders of days that we receive every day from the Father of Lights with whom there is no variation or shifting shadow.
***

*Prayers that go up as incense.* **Answered prayers**. Expectant healing from things more than an earth- bound virus. We are more than these, we are Prayerers: we forget who we are, we forget the power in our hands to reach out to The Only One Who has the power to save from Gehena. Yahweh, heal our earth from wounds we needn’t host. Remind us we needn’t be scared of things that kill earth life but cannot touch our immortality. Show us who You are. In these days, remind us of who we really are.
***
If you’re looking for Sunday Fellowship, do join here
https://youtu.be/KH3hSVK4_UQ

P.S.

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Have a great week!

@raylarn