Next Time it Rains

I received good news
Really good news
Balloon-releasing
Jump-up-and-down news
I was cured of hepatitis C!
I had told my mom
Of the preliminary results
Months before --
The chances-are-I'm-cured news
She had cried happy tears
Expressing her joy
But this was final
The treatment had worked
The virus was gone
My blood was clean
As though I never was infected

I wanted to call her
But her funeral was just days before
She was no longer here
A friend said
Talk to her anyway
It will seem as though
She hears

I did
I picked up the phone
And dialed her number
Three tones
A woman's voice
The number you have dialed
Is no longer in service
Please check the number
And dial again
Over and over she said
The same words
As though I hadn't heard
Them the first time
Or the second

Above the recording
I spoke
My sobs chopping the words
Into pieces
Hi, Mom.  I just wanted to tell you
Some Very Good News
The final results are in
I have been declared CURED!
I knew you'd be happy about it
So just had to tell you
I'm talking as though
You can hear me
And I hope you can
Thank you for being happy for me
I spoke as though she heard

It was a sunny day
But to myself I said
Next time it rains
It will be as though
She got the news
And is shedding happy tears
From heaven
Next time it rains
It will be as though
She got the news
It will be as though
I'll know

Diane Mann 2015

Temporary Winner

Separation hurts
death stings
and plays the victor
like a big show-off

There is Life
beyond death
the gap is but a veil
one day to be lifted

Silencing the bully
for good.


Diane Mann, 2015

Glimpse

     In 2010 a dear friend who is also a court reporter sat down with me and my mom, and we interviewed her, recording stories of her life.  One memory she shared was my parents'  having international students from our church to their home twice a year.  She said in the summer over 100 people would gather in their home and back yard for homemade ice cream.  But, she said, in December everyone would have to be inside, so they had only 60 over for dinner -- emphasis on the words 

"only 60"!  

     My mom was a gatherer of people -- and a party animal.  The past few years she invited friends over for themed parties.  For example, she gave a chocolate-themed party, where the film "Chocolat" was shown,  followed by a Bible lesson about grace.  A luscious dessert was shared while everyone sat at a table decorated in all things chocolate.  Each guest went home with chocolate cake mixes, frosting and wooden spoons as a party gift.  Before she died, she was planning a "Frozen" party and was quite excited about it.

     One day in February I stopped by her home while she was preparing for a "Breakfast at Tiffany's" party.  I was taken to see the joy and focus my mom had as she set her beautiful table.  It was a holy moment as I looked on, observing her living from who and how God made her to be.  I took this picture when I was there.

     "Mom," I said,  "surely you will be a table setter in heaven!"  And I've thought since then that she can't visit sick people in heaven, as she loved to do, so surely this will be one way she serves God there.

     This past week, living through the shock and pain of my mom's death, I've realized just like life is the opposite of death, gathering is the opposite of separation.  For now we are separated from the ones we so deeply love who have died.  But one day we will be called to gather at a huge feast given by Jesus, around a table where there's room for everyone.  We will look at each other across the table with no defenses, no grudges, no tears, no pain -- only joy, food and drink, a time where we will be truly free to give love as generously as God gives it to us.

And if there is sparkly confetti on the table, I'm pretty sure God let my mom put it there.

Diane Mann

October, 2015  

Meadow Goodness

What is it about a mountain meadow?
Is it its spaciousness
Sent out like an invitation
For the weary to rest
For cluttered minds
To have worries dance away
Upon the breeze?
Is it the way surrounding cliffs
Become strong arms embracing
And soft soils
Become God's lap
In which to nestle?

Or is it the gathering of flowers
Like friends old and new
Many whose names I recall
Others I've inquired of
But soon forgot
Like church people I have greeted
Week after week
We've exchanged stories
About our lives
Cheered one another on
It would seem silly now to ask
"What's your name?"
Too much has been shared
So we just keep visiting anyway

The purple grasses
Responding to the wind's caresses
Delight my eyes
Tickle my hopes
Wide sky tears open
The curtain of my soul
Beyond which lie
Dreams forgotten
But still alive
Still
Now
Very much alive

A granite boulder
Like a custom piece of furniture
Saying, "I was made just for you!"
Beckons me off the trail
Against it I lean
Into this moment
With abandon
My mind not comprehending
And ceasing to try
Perhaps its glory
Is not for me to understand
I conclude
But to stand under

Body reclined
Heart inclined
I rest
Here
Sinking into the goodness of the meadow
While the goodness of the meadow
Sinks into me.

Diane Mann, 2015

Three

Glen Pass, Kings Canyon National Park

"That river is like God's grace.  It is abundantly flowing," or, "Look how God covered the ground with pine needles.  That's like grace cushioning a fall!"  These are a couple of tiny glimpses into my mind as I hike.  In fact the trail name I've given myself is "Grace Seeker."  I am on the lookout pretty constantly for how God is revealing Himself through what He has made.  My eager mind can translate anything into something filled with meaning and spiritual application, but sometimes I find myself on inspiration overload and my heart cannot quite catch up with my head and its racing thoughts.  Imagine a tree branch so hungry for snow to land on its branches it tries to reach further into the sky to grab flakes of snow.  That is how I am by nature, especially in nature.  The tendency in me is to strive to receive and respond rather than wait on God to turn my head, to show me what He wants me to notice then let it settle in and on me.

As Brent and I prepared to backpack at Rae Lakes Loop in Kings Canyon National Park one summer, I decided to approach the time traveling through the California wilderness differently.  I sensed God nudging me to be open to letting His Spirit point out what He wanted me to notice.  There was a new trust that said, okay, God.  You show me what You want me to see; You let me know what You want me to know.  I experienced a new freedom and playfulness in choosing to leave the inspiration totally up to God.  

There were three head-turning truths He revealed to me over the four-day journey -- truths I carried with me far beyond our summer vacation, the depths of which continue to unfold in me.  He showed me these truths in some creative ways.

1)  The power of the waterfall.  I've always been inspired by the strength of what rises from creation -- mountains, flowers, trees pointing to the heavens, a person having been beaten down by illness, hardship or depression who stands once again.  But what God turned my head with when I saw and sat with a waterfall was power rushing down.  Immediately I recognized what in my life needed to see this about God and His ability, quickness and willingness to extend grace.  Someone I loved deeply had much hurt at the time, and I had become fearful and worried.   The waterfall was a display of God's rushing-down-from-above power and love pouring onto His children. I wrestled with Him a bit during my break.  "If you can reach down this powerfully, surely, surely you can reach the one for whom I am praying.  Please, God, please reach her.  Reach me.  Pour over me, dislodging the fear and doubt in my heart."

2)  The bigness of the mountain.  Inclines have always been strenuous for me, and I imagine they always will be.  Yet each time I am climbing toward a peak or a pass, I am surprised by my struggle.  Springy, shiny-faced, eager hikers in magazine pictures look nothing like how I feel while ascending.  I walk with heavy steps and an even heavier-with-condemnation heart for how strong I think I should be.  As I slogged toward Glen Pass, the highest point on Rae Lakes Loop, a thought floated by I knew I needed to hang on to:  The mountain is much bigger than I.  Of course it's hard to climb!  The word "yield" was threaded into this new thought.  Hm.  What would it be like to yield to the truth that I am way smaller than the huge mountain?  Can I rest into and accept rather than reject my own limitations?  Something in me immediately flipped.  "Big mountain, little tiny me -- of course it's difficult!"  I said to myself.  I became more able to rely on God's strength somehow by embracing my own weakness.  

Post-hike as I navigate through illness, through seemingly impossible days at work, through relationships needing healing, I remember what was revealed during the steep mountain climb.  Yes, this problem, like the mountain, is much bigger than I. Of course it's hard; of course I'm tired and in need of rest and strength.   

3)  The kindness of my husband.  On night one we arrived at our first backpacking campsite with a greeting from a bare-bellied wet man who'd just come out of the river.  His name was Roy.  Roy and his two buddies, Lou and Brian, had hiked the loop every year for decades.  His grandfather used to ride a mule over the pass in the early 1900s.  We knew much about gregarious Roy before our tent was even set up.  Our journey intersected with this team of hikers many times after this first introduction.  Roy actually hiked slower than I did, and I stayed back with him while he took many rests while approaching the trail's highest point:  Glen Pass.  Remember, this is where I'd just learned to yield to the truth that I am so much smaller than the mountain.  He introduced me to some yummy energy chews as I sat with him while he caught his breath. 

Back to the kindness of my husband.  We stood in victory at almost 12,000 feet above sea level on a narrow, high, rocky pass taking turns photographing each other in this glorious moment, when Lou took a misstep and fell onto a sharp rock, splitting his knee open. Without pause Brent came to his aid, providing water, gauze, bandages.  Ignoring the expansive view of High Sierra ridges he'd worked so hard to see, setting down his binoculars and focusing on the need of another, he with tenderness and skill attended to Lou. In this act, I saw God's kindness and eagerness to care for me.  

I love thinking back to how God let me see this part of Him in my husband's actions.  When I am hurting or praying for someone who is hurting, He often brings to mind the picture He provided which expressed so clearly His kindness.

There have been situations following that summer hike where it was clear God had gone before me and had seen what I would need to get through what lay ahead -- times I specifically needed assurance of His reaching power, times I would need to accept a difficult, way-beyond-my-abilities situation and times I needed to depend on His attentive kindness.

Five days, forty-two miles, one bear (yes, really!)
and three truths
still changing me.

Diane Mann, 2015

Pine Bough

Grateful

Receptive

Resting

Still, yet being moved

And moving me

Suspended

Planted

Productive

Peace-filled

Rich with color

Willing to give

Willing to receive

Happy to be

A pine bough.

diane mann 2015

This Little "Write" of Mine (left-handed)

This came from my morning journaling time.  Non-dominant hand journaling can be so fun.

Exploring 5 What-Ifs to Alter (and Altar) the Way You Do Church

The morning was lovely.  Worship drew you near to God.  The pastor was extra clear and expressive in teaching and preaching from Scripture. Some aspects of the hour and fifteen minutes sitting in your pew (or considerably less time if you were late!) were less enjoyable than others. But this Sunday you got all the blanks filled in from the lesson and found most of the points to be relevant to where you are in life.  You even noticed something was happening on a soul level.  And when the speaker sat down and the worship leader stood for closing music, much stirred inside of you.

You responded by singing along with the congregation, expressing with meaning from your heart the words to the worship tune.  It was a holy time, and the perfect song was chosen to wrap up the sermon's closing, putting a giant exclamation point on the morning's profound lesson.

In the "olden days" -- well, the '60s, '70s and '80s -- church services included a time to respond to what was spoken.  Yes, it could be quite dramatic and drawn out, with music playing and people walking down the aisles to show they wanted to move toward God in some way.  A very public response, but such a time was offered, nonetheless.  A call to the altar, it was -- a call to kneel, to turn to and return to God.  We took literally the words to the song "Just As I Am," by stepping down the aisle to, "Oh, Lamb of God, I come, I come."  

I confess I sometimes miss that space offered to respond.

I gave myself such a space to respond recently at the end of a wonderful sermon and asked, "What does what I have just heard cause me to want to pray?" As I uttered that very personal prayer,  a time of relating with God, some what-ifs came to mind.

1) What if we were to bring back the altar call?  (Please, hear me out here for the next "what-if.")

2) What if the altar we are called to is the altar inside the temple, which is each of us, that innermost, sacred place where Christ dwells and communes with us?

3) What if we actually came to Christ at that altar "just as we are," having listened then expressing to Him our response -- our real, raw response -- statements that may be beautiful, unattractive, loving, angry, questioning, yielding, resisting, statements such as these:

     "Jesus, I just can't imagine loving You like you've commanded in Your word.  How I long to love You more.  Grow my love for You."  

    "None of this feels true to me right now because I am hurting so badly."

     "It seems like everyone else is close to You while I'm on the outside."
  
   "I don't even want you near me right now because of what you've allowed to happen to me and my loved ones." 

     "Honestly, I know I should be moved by all that was shared this morning, but I'm just super excited about having lunch with friends."

4) What if we then remained at "the altar" undisturbed, quietly sensing Jesus with each of us, noticing Him with us in that space inside receiving and responding back to us exactly as we are?

5) What if we then, having sat with Jesus in the truth of where each of us is,  joined in chorus, worshiping and entrusting ourselves and each other to the only One who can bring about change within?

Whether such a time is offered in your church service or not, notice what stirs inside you and what the events of the morning urge you to say back to God.  Express that response to Him.  Then allow Him to be with you in that space, and notice how He is toward you.  It might take two minutes of your morning but will completely alter the way you do church.

Oh, and enjoy that lunch with friends!  

Diane Mann, 2015

Delighted to Give - About Taylor Swift (and God)

Today I viewed a YouTube video documenting superstar Taylor Swift's blessing some of her fans with Christmas and Hanukah gifts.   (You can see the video for yourself by clicking on the link below.)  Unbeknownst to any of these on-line followers,  she "followed" them in return.  She learned of their interests and activities and decided to buy presents individually picked out by her with each of these fans in mind.  The shopping, wrapping, packaging and sometimes the delivery were all carried out by Taylor herself.

The video records the obvious joy and thoughtfulness with which Taylor Swift went about her gift-giving.  Those who were recipients of this surprise showed teary, screaming, catch-their-breath glee upon realizing from whom the packages came.   Wow, to think the recording artist about whom you're head over heels would take note of you, research who you are and reach out to give to you is a lot to take in!

Most gifts seemed simple, yet all were well thought out:  a lacy headband, a plastic pouch displaying a picture of someone's kitten, a necklace.  With each delivery came a handwritten note.  "I had so much fun trying to think of things that might make you smile," read one note.  "I wanted to let you know how much you impress me with your giving spirit," read another.  A couple of fans in the video seemed touched that Taylor herself wrote their names.  They seemed to feel loved and known.

This stirred something in me besides the thought of, oh, what a nice person Taylor Swift is (and she does seem so very sweet)!

What if the gifts I receive every day really are from God?  What if he really does notice me and "follow" me?  What if He not only reads my online posts and sees my pictures but is attentive to my every breath?  What if He delights watching me open the gifts He gives each day?  That hot cup of coffee this morning, the scented candle I lit, the warmth I felt while coming inside from the cold, the strong hug from my husband, the joy of reflection while I took ornaments off our Christmas tree.  He even gave me the gift of watching the video about Taylor Swift today.  I sense He enjoyed watching me enjoy it, hoping I'd see something of Him in the spirit of the story.

As huge, big God gives such presents, He stretches His arms out, hands filled with treasures with which to bless me.  I receive the blessings.  As I take yet another gift from His hand, His palm is revealed. 

And I gasp in glee as I notice my name written there.


Diane Mann, 2014

Click on the link below to view the video.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j3yyF31jbKo

Prayer for a Receptive Heart

Jesus,

Don't let me miss the gifts given to me today

because of what was taken from me yesterday.



Diane Mann, 2014