What if God is Not Perfect?, by Jacqueline DeSelms-Wolfe, MEd

What if God is Not Perfect?, by Jacqueline DeSelms-Wolfe, MEd

I have a teacher that always tells me to wait. She tells me that waiting is the space that allows for the receiving and the giving of love.

It’s easy to wait when things are good. It’s easy to do when the sun is shining. It is easy to do when the house is clean and the kids are at the grandparents. It’s easy to do when life feels perfect. When life is running smoothly, my heart is open, waiting and saying “bring on the love.”

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I Can Do Hard Things, by Susan Austin-Crumpton

I Can Do Hard Things, by Susan Austin-Crumpton

“Do I prefer to grow up and relate to life directly,
Or do I choose to live and die in fear?”
                                                         Pema Chodron

I can do hard things.
 
I didn’t know that when I was younger. I thought it was all about being talented, special, and somehow gifted. I knew I was not those things. So, I believed I could not do hard and difficult things.

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Meditation, by Estuary Blogger Jacqueline DeSelms-Wolfe

Meditation, by Estuary Blogger Jacqueline DeSelms-Wolfe

I meditated the other day, like several times. Granted I was attending a meditation immersion weekend, but that’s beside the point.  

This wasn’t the first time I’ve meditated, but it was definitely the first time with a group of strangers and with a soft man voice guiding the way. That man voice was real as it was the voice of the man leading the weekend. We’ll call him Danny – mainly because that’s his name. He was awesome, by the way. He knows things. I guess that’s why all of us strangers paid lots of money to listen to both his voice and to his advice, or wisdom, rather.

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Love Letter, by Susan Austin-Crumpton

Love Letter, by Susan Austin-Crumpton

This is a love letter.

A love letter to my husband, to my family, to The Estuary Staff and to our clients.
 
Every moment I spend thinking of you, talking with you, helping you, laughing with you is a lovely relational act where you become present to me and I am present with you. I gaze at the space between us as I look into the eternal You. Every breath of US is an eternal breath of You and Me.

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She's Not Mine, by guest blogger Jacqueline DeSelms-Wolfe

It’s 4:30 in the morning. Actually it’s 4:33, but who’s counting?

Obviously, I am.

I’d love to be able to tell you that I’m up because I’m committed to my yoga, or that I just finished my hour-long meditation practice, but if you’ve read this post here, or if you have known me for more than a week, you know that anything that requires “practice” is not going to happen.

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Why Their's and Not Mine?, by guest blogger Jacqueline DeSelms-Wolfe

We woke up this morning to a large red ring around my daughter’s belly button. Thankfully this episode was on a regular weekday instead of a Sunday. It was like God listened when I prayed for some weekend medical relief, or rather wrote all about it here. He must of forgotten, however, that we were just at the doctor yesterday for her 7 year check-up. 

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Ma Is Dying, by Guest Blogger David J Saffold

Ma Is Dying, by Guest Blogger David J Saffold

Tuesday, Crying Again!

This morning I found my eighty-four-year-old mother sleeping with her legs hanging off one side of the bed.  She has gotten much weaker and can't pull her legs up onto the bed anymore.  She could last week, why not this week?  She cries out in pain as I pull her to sitting position - I have to hold her back so she doesn't fall back on the bed.  Everything with her is a chore - hard labor!  I flinch when her pain makes her cry out.  Her hip muscle has stretched from lying like that all night.  I finally get her to her recliner and get some Tylenol down her throat.  “Ouch, ouch, ouch, everything hurts” is the song she is constantly singing.  I beg her to eat something but can only convince her to drink a little vitamin drink.  So I sit down on the couch and my eyes well up with tears.  I have a great urge to cry just like I cried yesterday morning.  I don't know what to do and nobody else knows either.  I am helpless and don't like being helpless - so I cry.  I guess I am not the tough-guy I like to think I am.

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Seeking Truth, by Susan Austin-Crumpton

Seeking Truth, by Susan Austin-Crumpton

I was teaching a Kabbalah class last week and was especially moved by the delicious desire of this group to explore and find Truth. They were creative, curious and spiritually seeking.  The clarity in the room was refreshing and restorative.

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The Blessing, by Susan Austin-Crumpton

The Blessing, by Susan Austin-Crumpton

I too frequently wake up in the middle of the night with my mind whirling in a thousand directions at once.  That’s when I listen to podcasts.  I am comforted by the drone of other voices other than my own lulling me back to sleep; unless, the podcast is interesting. 

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