what would you put in your God Box?

for my job as well as in my life i talk to a lot of people, or rather, a lot of people talk to me.  there is something about the physical closeness of patient care and removing skin cancers that seems to create a safe environment for sharing.  i hear stories of illness and struggles, insecurities and losses. and, i am reminded that i am not the only one.

usually, i wonder what their method of healing is and often, when i ask, the answer is some version of prayer and perseverance.   and with that, there is hope for eventual change and peace.  sometimes, however, i can see the impact of the trials sitting on their shoulders and their features drag from burden.  i am sensitive to it, i think, because the look of it is something i have seen before.  i saw it on my dad during the last year of his life as the weight of his issues seemed to compress him until he even appeared smaller than his actual frame would allow and i see it on other people i care about as i watch them navigate life.

i went run/walking with a friend one morning and, in the dark, we talked about life and watched the stars.  we chattered about the basic fluffy stuff that keeps us busy and we stayed away from any real topic that would require energy to process.  she and i both, though our issues vary greatly, normally relieve our occasional bouts of emotional stress through physical means but presently, the health and strength of our bodies has limited our ability to do that.  so, for that day, we tabled the insecurities, the losses, and the economy and we moved toward Cassiopeia and around to Ursa Major and we sent those unspoken thoughts to the sky and by the time we were back to Orion, we were home again.

the stars used to be the only way for people and sailors to navigate and find their way home.  as technology has advanced and modern conveniences have been developed, though, this practice is rarely used and i find this a bit unfortunate.  in some ways, the invention of the light bulb, while immensely valuable, impacts one's ability to even see the stars.  people, in populated areas with big city lights, may not notice how bright the stars can really be.  as a country girl, i often slept outside and gazed at the stars and knew that someone great must have made them twinkle and fall for me. and now, as an adult, i find myself seeking the stars and their creator when i am stressed and in need of comfort.  there is something about viewing the expanse of the universe that creates a diametric feeling of closeness to me.  it's like i can see the space the constellations fill circled around me and i feel safe.

when i think about the people in my life and those i encounter at work, i hope they have or can find something that brings them peace.  there are portions of our troubles that, no matter what we do, we have no ability to control or to make them right through our own endeavors, especially, when our history and past circumstances impact our present.  somehow, though it is difficult, we all have to figure out how to let go of certain items of insecurity in order to move on and let new things in.  for me, i have to turn off the chaos by turning off the lights so that i can see the stars and their creator more clearly.  for others, however, it may not be that simple.

someone i know recently bought themselves a special box to put their troubles in.  a receptacle to place the panic in that only God can possibly resolve.  it's important, i believe, when times are tough and faith is challenged to have something tangible that allows one to physically give away those unsettling fears to an unseen being and ask Him to remove them from you.  for many, without that box to put their hands on and without the ceremony of gifting those pains to a higher power, praying just seems too far-reaching or simply may not feel like enough action to create the desired results.

that's why i feel like this box idea is genius!

so, here is my question...  What would you put in your God Box?

taste, touch, sight, smell, hear...plus one

last year, when ty was in kindergarten he brought home a series of pictures used to teach kids about the 5 senses. each picture had an enlarged body part that coincided with the sense being taught on that particular day until he knew about sight, smell, taste, touch, and hearing. when ty learned about taste, he brought home a picture with a giant tongue on it. ty learned about how sometimes, for whatever reason, a person may have diminished capacity in one sense and their brain reacts by heightening another sense to accommodate for the handicap. for example, a blind person may have an extraordinary sense of hearing to help them navigate their dark surroundings.

last week for my birthday, i followed a trail and a map and my brother jaren on a 22 mile hike that started in idaho and ended in wyoming. before we left, jaren asked our mom to cuddle his baby for him while we were gone hiking for the day. jaren has become my workout buddy and i knew he would be willing to accompany me over the mountains. i noticed while walking behind him,that anytime there was a boulder within arms length jaren would reach out and slide his fingertips across it to feel its' texture and temperature.

while hiking the winding trails, my mind wandered with me and covered all the topics that patrol my thoughts these days. i thought about my sister, lisa, and how much i miss her, and how deeply she experiences things, and how she is, finally, living the life she deserves filled with love and travel and athletic success. and, i thought about how when she hugs me she smells my hair. she says it helps her remember me while we are apart.

near sunset lake, jaren and i sat on a flat rock and looked at the topographical map that my oldest brother johnny printed for me on his architectural plotter. johnny, ever the quiet observer, has left his capable footprints on many a ridge top and canyon floor. he once exclaimed amazement at all the different shades of green there are in nature and, that statement, changed the way i looked at the world and fueled my interest to spend more time in the wilderness.

the world sometimes presents trials and ailments and my brother joey, a doctor, has learned how to ease them. with a stethoscope in his ears, he listens to heartbeats and without judgement, he provides support. once, joey heard the way a certain high-school senior talked to me and steered me away when i was too naive to know better and that was when i knew he had my back and would always take care of me.

for the last few miles of our hike, i led and jaren followed. i felt the coolness, emanating from the forest and the mountain fed lake, on my salty sun-parched lips as i jogged over the rolling landscape leading to the parking lot. while waiting for our ride, i purchased two bottles of chocolate milk and smiled with satisfaction after pouring the sweet liquid over my tongue and down my throat. the cold milk, a polar opposite of the warm water i had been drinking from my bleach-treated bladder bag, had intense flavor and it whet my appetite. when our ride arrived i asked her to navigate straight to a jackson hole restaurant for chunky salsa, salty chips, and a skillet-full of sizzling fajitas.

after 17 years, i can't identify my siblings without thinking about my youngest brother, josh. he died in a car accident at age 15. he had a big personality and people were drawn to him. somehow, it seemed, that he was able to orchestrate and entertain the masses and people often found themselves doing things for him. he had big blue eyes and long eyelashes that made it hard to say no to him. he was funny, and popular, and knew how to wink at girls. and, being around josh minimized our weaknesses and heightened our quality of life.

while driving home from my hike, it occurred to me, that together, my siblings and i make up a whole unit of senses and we all have our own unique abilities to share. when one sense is diminished, another is sent to provide support through their individual capabilities. my sense of taste and my love of good food is the catalyst i use to bring my family together or to comfort those in need. i cook and they come. this, sometimes, is the only thing i have to offer and i pray that it is enough. the others, follow their own senses and provide service accordingly.

and, somehow, this process is orchestrated by a sibling that no longer shares our space but continues to heighten our quality of life, help us navigate our surroundings, allow accommodation for our handicaps, and to remind us that we are not alone.