Posted in Uncategorized, tagged breakfast, Captree State Park, God, ordinary on April 17, 2011| 1 Comment »
For an awesome way to start your day and get focused on Seeing God in the Ordinary, take a picnic breakfast and watch the sunrise. This photo was taken on the Captree State Park fishing pier (The Fire Island Lighthouse is in the distance):
Sunrise Breakfast at Captree State Park
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged glowing cross, God, Meditation Garden, Mercer School of Theology, ordinary on April 17, 2011| 2 Comments »
It had been One of Those Days. The stress level at work had been exceptionally high, there was an unexpected expense at home, emails from both kids’ colleges announced a tuition hike, and I had cheated on my diet so much that the pants I thought I was going to wear to work wouldn’t zipper up all the way.
My mood after work as I traveled on the Parkway toward my evening class at the Mercer School of Theology could best be described as, well, grumpy. God was nowhere in my mind as I churned on the negative things of the day. “Stupid pants” I grumbled.
Surprisingly, the traffic was cooperative that late afternoon, and I pulled the car into the parking lot with a half hour to spare before needing to be inside. The sun was still up, and it wasn’t too chilly on this early Spring day. Needing a mental adjustment before class, I decided to use the free time to walk about the grounds of the Cathedral.
I headed across the lawn toward a bench in the distant meditation garden, and then sat down when I reached it. The sun was warm on my face. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and then took another one, using a centering trick taught by a friend. The stress started to melt away.
I opened my eyes and was able to see more clearly around me. The bushes had hints of green showing, the trees had tiny buds. In the middle of the lawn, there was an area where crocuses had started to open, and the leaves of the daffodils had broken through the ground. I walked over, and squatted down to take a closer look at the blossoms – bright colors beamed up at me. One of the flowers had pushed through a small pile of leaves to reach the daylight. I admired the tenacity of the crocus – it didn’t give up, even under challenging growing conditions. A mockingbird sang its repertoire from a nearby tree branch, cheerful even at the end of the day. I remembered positive things from my day: the kindness of a co-worker, a smile from a stranger, the driver who let me cut ahead of him into the long line of traffic. I walked back across the lawn toward the school building.
I sat near the window in the classroom. 
From my seat, I could see the Cathedral. My eyes surveyed the architecture, and then were drawn to the cross at the top of the spire. Normally bright with the reflection of the sun during the day, the cross was now glowing with the angle of the setting sun. Glowing. It was somehow reassuring, and I knew things would be okay.
If I took the time to look around me, I’ll see God in the miracle of new growth, a smile, a kindness, the song of a bird, the setting of the sun. He’s always with me. Even on a stress filled day, when I push Him out, He shows himself; I only need to open my eyes. I can find Him in simple, ordinary things.
© Diane L. Neuls DeBlasio 2011
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged coffee, God, Matthew 25:35, ordinary, Shopping Cart Lady, teenage girl on April 14, 2011| 1 Comment »
She’s known simply as “The Shopping Cart Lady”. A neighborhood eccentric, no one seems to know her name, where she lives, or where she goes to at night with her cart. Sightings of her walking along the main drag through town, or at the local shopping center, are casual conversation: ”Hey, I saw The Shopping Cart Lady today at _____.”
The Shopping Cart Lady is a petite, rather frail looking elderly lady. Her frailty is deceiving; she quickly pushes a metal shopping cart, filled to overflowing with plastic bags, blankets, a pillow, and a dozen more bags tied around the outside, along the busy roadways around town. From my vantage point in the car, she always seems to wear a lot of clothes, no matter what the weather.
It happened that one day I saw her and her cart on the sidewalk parked two doors down from the donut shop I was going to for my coffee fix. She was standing in front of her cart, one hand holding on, facing the parking lot. I’d have to pass her and the cart to get to where I wanted to go.
This was the closest I’d ever been to The Shopping Cart Lady. I felt uncomfortable; it was easier to see her from my car window as I drove past rather than facing her oddity so near. Up close, she seemed even more eccentric than from a distance: Her hair was unkempt, and she was wearing layers of clothing: a shirt, two unbuttoned sweaters and two unbuttoned coats, a couple of skirts of different lengths, mismatched socks, and well-worn shoes. As I self consciously nodded a “hello” to her, in her face I saw years of struggle. She continued to stare straight ahead.
“Why doesn’t someone do something about her?” I thought judgmentally as I entered the shop.
The donut place was busy, and I quickly forgot about her as I waited in line.
After getting my coffee order, I left the store. Ahead of me on the sidewalk, I saw a teenage girl speaking to The Shopping Cart Lady. The Shopping Cart Lady was looking suspiciously at the teenager.
The girl must have been in the donut place ahead of me, because next thing I saw was her smiling as she held out a bag with the shop logo on it, and a fresh cup of coffee.
The Shopping Cart Lady look startled at first, then gratefully reached for the offerings. She smiled back at the teenager, who waved as she continued on to her car, empty-handed, having given her breakfast to The Shopping Cart Lady.
For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me. Matthew 25:35
© Diane L. Neuls DeBlasio 2011
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged dragonfly, God, Great Falls National Park, hike, ordinary, Psalm 46:10 on April 11, 2011| Leave a Comment »
Be still, and know that I am God! Psalm 46:10
We could hear the roar of the waterfalls before we saw them. Climbing over 
large rocks at Overlook 1, we reached the top, and then peered over the railing to the wonder before us. “Awesome” was a word which didn’t come close to describing the view of the Potomac River as it fell over a series of steep, jagged rocks, building up speed and force as it flowed through the narrow gorge. The water level was low, so more rocks than usual were exposed, giving an impressive show for the viewer.
My sister Tricia and I were at Great Falls National Park in Virginia. We were joined at the Overlook by several families with children of all ages, small groups of college students, and couples our parents’ age. Excited voices commented on the size, speed and power of the falls. The force of the water was shown by the debris it carried – a tree trunk and huge tree branches were caught up in the rocks, brought there by the powerful force of the water.
Looking for a quieter trail after leaving the Overlook, we followed a rocky path along the top of the cliff. We spotted a place which allowed us to hike down to the water through a steep, narrow gap. At the water’s edge, looking back toward the falls, the sight of the falls from the ground view was breathtaking. As we climbed back up the gap to the trail, we noticed several trees which had been fallen by the fierce thunderstorm which had swept through the area the night before. Tall, mature trees had been toppled. A few were leaners, caught by the tree branches of a neighboring tree before they could hit the ground. Elsewhere we spotted tree limbs, twisted by the wind from their trunk, dangling dangerously overhead.
We continued our hike on the cliffs, along shade covered, twisting, turning paths, climbing over rocks when necessary. As we walked, we were amazed by the many trees which grew out of the rocks around us, some so large that the rocks were split open where the tree grew through them.
Taking a detour off the main trail, we decided to eat our picnic lunch in a bright spot about 75 feet above the water. We sat on a large rock warmed by the sun. We were downriver, below the falls where the river was calmer. It was quieter, off the beaten path, a gentle stillness in this space. We became 
quieter, too, and our eyes opened to more than we had realized was around us. As we ate, we noticed the smaller wonders around us: a tiny cedar tree was growing in the rich soil left in the crevice of a rock by receding flood waters; beautiful tiny yellow and purple flowers grew in the harsh environment. On the tree next to us, we watched industrious ants form a column going up and then down the trunk. We couldn’t figure out what they were doing for food. Tricia put a crumb from her sandwich into the bark; silently we watched to see what would happen. Within a few minutes, the crumb was covered with ants which may have thought they hit the jackpot.
Tricia quietly pointed to a bird on the Maryland side of the river. As she pointed, a dragonfly came near us. We stayed still, and watched as the dragonfly gently hovered, then landed on Tricia’s outstretched finger. It stayed there for a magical minute, and then flew off.
It was at this point that I realized I had been focusing on the largeness around me – the waterfalls, the huge rocks, and towering trees. Yet, God was also in the small, quiet places. I had to take the time to sit quietly and be still, to see them.
© Diane L. Neuls DeBlasio 2011
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged abundance, God, James 2:14, kitchen, poor woman, sandwich on April 7, 2011| 4 Comments »
What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if you say you have faith but do not have works? James 2:14
The memory of her huddling with her two young kids had haunted me for days. I kept putting the scene out of my head, but try as I might, it kept coming back. Finally catching on that I wasn’t in charge of this, I gave up, and let the memory play out:
The day had started out like a typical Sunday at our house.
“Do you think that maybe once this year we could get to church on time!?” I yelled up the stairs to my daughter, who was taking forever getting ready that morning. “I can’t decide what to wear!” was the response. Turning, I tripped on the pile of shoes and socks left by my son in the living room. I swore they multiplied overnight.
“I’ll put them away!” he quickly responded to my glare, and gathered them up.
Remembering at the last minute we were supposed to bring donations for the food collection, I reached for something from the pantry cabinet. The pile of cans on the upper shelf fell over and several rolled out, crashing noisily onto the kitchen floor. More grumbling as I packed some cans into a bag to take with us.
Finally, everyone was ready. Grabbing for my coat in the closet, I pulled out the one I was saving for when I lost weight. I put skinny coat back, next to the others that for some reason or other were stored in the closet, and finally found the one that fit.
After church, we went with the Youth Group on an Outreach trip to a local sandwich kitchen where we would help serve patrons sandwiches the had kids made earlier.
When the patrons standing on the line went down, I looked out over the room from behind the serving table. A woman caught my eye. She sat hunched at the end of a table, her two small children sitting close to her. Her eyes were what struck me most – haunted and hungry. Her coat was threadbare, worn over a couple of layers of clothes. The kids were dressed the same, and eagerly ate their ham sandwiches. The Mom slowly ate half of hers, then carefully wrapped the other half in a napkin and put it in her coat pocket. When the kids were done eating, she quietly took them by the hands and led them back up the stairs, her sock showing through the hole in her right shoe.
As the memory of the Mom and her two kids played out in my head, I recalled that the lunch sandwich kitchen was the only place open on a Sunday; the other local kitchens were closed. What people ate at the sandwich kitchen was the only food some would have that day.
The Mom had saved the other half of her sandwich for the kids to eat for supper.
I was ashamed to realize what I had missed that day. I was blessed with such an abundance of food at home that it spilled out of the pantry. Food I donated was from that abundance, given as an afterthought. We had enough shoes to trip over, clothes to choose from and a closet full of coats for someday.
The poor woman, who didn’t have money for food or clothes, was sharing her sandwich.
I now saw God in the mom, and finally heard the message He had been trying to get into my stubborn brain.
© Diane L. Neuls DeBlasio 2011
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged beach, God, Jesus, Lord, Luke 5:16, ordinary, peaceful, pray on April 4, 2011| 2 Comments »
But Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed. Luke 5:16
Crunch, crunch, crunch. My sneakers sounded a cheerful rhythm as I walked west along the water’s edge on the ocean beach in the early evening. During the day it had been cool and rainy; the sun had finally come out after suppertime. It was still cool, yet the welcomed sun warmed my face.
I was following Jesus’ example of going to a quiet place to pray. I needed to regroup, refocus after a rather hectic day.
Seeing God in the Ordinary was a theme that kept popping up in sermons I was hearing, devotions I was reading. Where would I see Him at the beach? As I walked, I emptied my mind. I let God fill it as He wished.
The steady roar of the ocean and the crashing of the waves on the sandy beach were a constant companion as I walked. My sneakers left their marks on the hard sand, just out of reach of the breaking waves. The tide was low and still going out.
The area ahead of me shared stories of the past few hours in the footprints left behind. I found myself praying for the anonymous people who had left the impressions in the sand.
A pair of large sneaker prints with tiny zigzagging dog prints next to them had me smiling as I visualized a hyper little dog being walked on a leash by its patient master.
A family had been by. The footprints left by the kids showed a game of tag had been played with the water. I fondly remembered the games my own children had played with the ocean when they were younger.
Seagulls and plovers had left their footprints, too, as they fed from the gifts of the sea. Ahead of me, I watched as four plovers created fresh prints as they chased the receding waves, their beaks drilling into the sand. When the next wave came upon the shore, the birds scurried up, turned, and chased the wave back out to the ocean, drilling again.
Further up the beach was evidence of a sand castle, the moat dug with a couple of large clam shells left next to it. I looked closer and saw from the footprints that it was adults who created the castle. I smiled at their youthful joy on the ocean front.
A pile of rocks had been tossed ashore by the pattern of the current. The stones, in a variety of colors, were smooth from being tossed in the surf for so many years.
Clam, oyster, and scallop shells, all colors, shapes, sizes, decorated the beach. Evidence left behind showed that the occupant of a clamshell had been dinner for a hungry seagull.
The tide started to turn and I headed back, retracing my steps, walking higher up the beach as the waves crashed further up the shore with the incoming tide. In only minutes, the prints I had left when traveling the opposite direction were gone, erased by the tide.
I had gratefully become aware of the Lord’s presence in many unexpected places at the beach: the life-giving ocean, the power of the tide, the wildlife, the warmth of the sun. The footprints told many stories of His love and grace toward us. God is in the Ordinary at the beach.
© Diane L. Neuls DeBlasio 2011
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged family, God, Mark 9:23, mud, ordinary, young men on April 1, 2011| Leave a Comment »
“…all things can be done for the one who believes!” Mark 9:23
“1….2….3! Gentle accelerator, Kathy!” I called from behind the car to my daughter in the driver’s seat. “Push, Mike!” Kathy gave the car gas; my son and I pushed from the back as hard as we could, our feet slipping in the mud. The front tires spun madly, splattering mud on my coat, splotching some onto my glasses. The car sank deeper into the winter-thawed ground.
“Stop! Stop!” I yelled to my daughter, who let off the gas. Exhausted, Mike and I stood up. Stepping carefully through the muck, we walked up the slight incline to the front of the car, to figure out what our next step would be.
We were in a wooded area, accessed by a rutted road. As the driver, I had left the road to turn around, not realizing that the ground in the area I picked for the maneuver had thawed during these extraordinary warm winter days. I realized what a terrible mistake I had made when the car was facing up the slight incline, and I couldn’t get it to move forward in the soft earth.
We had been trying, unsuccessfully, for about 30 minutes to get the car out. No luck.
“You two stay here. I’m going to see if anyone is home in that house up ahead.” I slipped as I moved along the car, adding more grime to my jeans. My white sneakers were now caked with mud, coat splattered. Mike was just as filthy. I was really annoyed at myself for getting us into this literal mess. I headed toward the house, praying that someone would be home to help us, because it was the only house that I could see.
“Lord, I need some help here” I said, knowing that only two of us pushing couldn’t get the car out. I reached the house. No one was home.
When I returned to the car, we tried a few more things, no success. The sun was getting lower in the sky. Kathy handed me my cell phone to call a tow truck.
As I was getting ready to make the call, Mike heard some voices and scanned the area. He spotted three young men in the distance, walking through the woods, and called to them for help. They turned from their path and headed toward us.
“Wow!” they said, as they reached the car and surveyed the mess we were in. They agreed to help. Mike gave each one of us a place to be around the car. The five of us stepped into the now ankle-deep mud, braced ourselves, and then Kathy gently pressed the accelerator.
Slowly, centimeter by centimeter, the car moved forward as we cheered encouragement to each other to continue pushing. Kathy got the car to solid ground, and then put it in park. We gratefully thanked the young men as they headed back to continue their hike, stomping mud off their sneakers and jeans as they walked.
God was in those three young people, who stopped to help strangers in a messy situation. I had asked Him for help, putting my own expectations about where it should come from. Yet God provided us with what we needed; we just had to keep looking.
© Diane L. Neuls DeBlasio 2011
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged children, daily life, God, John 15:11, mother, supermarket on March 31, 2011| Leave a Comment »
I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete. John 15:11
Squeak…squeak… squeak
The sound broke my concentration as I was looking for my favorite flavor of ice cream in the supermarket freezer.
Squeak…squeak….squeak…
What was that noise? I realized it was coming from the aisle next to me. Sounded like one of the stuffed toys the dog liked to play with, the one with the little squeaker in it that drove the dog crazy until she masterfully removed the annoying sound maker with her teeth.
Squeak…squeak….squeak…
Familiar with the layout of the supermarket, I knew that the next aisle wasn’t the one with the pet toys. Not curious enough, I dismissed the sound, put the ice cream in the cart, and continued with my shopping.
Squeaksqueaksqueaksqueaksqueaksqueaksqueaksqueaksqueaksqueak!!!!!!
There was no ignoring the noise now; it was directly behind me, loud and persistent. Curiosity won, so I turned around.
I smiled at the unexpected sight: two joyful toddlers, “driving” a red vehicle-shaped shopping cart; each kid had their own steering wheel and their very own horn. As they exuberantly pressed on the yellow horns, a squeak emerged. The grins on the kids’ faces were wide, their bodies wriggled in the seats with excitement.
A harried Mom was pushing the cart. The cart was full of groceries, which told me the Mom had been listening to that noise for her entire trip at the supermarket. I felt her pain.
The toddlers continued to happily press the horns, having discovered that the faster they pushed the horns the louder the sound, especially when they pushed the horns at the same time. They were greatly pleased when I moved my cart over so their cart could pass.
The Mom smiled back at me as she quickly passed by and headed to the checkout line. The squeaks continued while the groceries were placed on the belt, bagged, loaded back into the cart and then slowly faded as the Mom pushed the full cart out of the store to her car.
I saw God in the Mom on that trip to the supermarket. Her patience was remarkable. Yet, she knew the noise the kids were making was overshadowed by the sheer joy of the children having harmless fun with such a simple thing, a horn. And the Mom was able to get her shopping done.
Like the children, may we find joy in the simple things. And then remember to thank God for those who have patience with us when we do!
© Diane L. Neuls DeBlasio 2011
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged Christmas, crowd, elderly, family, God, John 15:12, New York City on March 30, 2011| 1 Comment »
This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. John 15:12
It was Christmastime in New York City. The kids and I were playing tourist during Christmas break.
We had taken the express train into New York. Every car on the train was packed with Long Island tourists like ourselves this Christmas week. The day was unseasonably warm, which probably added to the number of people heading into the city. We settled into a seat, open the fold-out map, and planned our day.
When we reached Penn Station, we walked upstairs and outside into the crowds on the sidewalk. It was noisy: vendors called attention to their wares spread out on tables along the sidewalk: watches, scarves, and pocket books. Taxi horns, calls of the tour guides, loud chatter of people as they moved along, bicycle bells, roar of the busses and cars as they moved down the road bombarded us. Smells of the pretzels and roasted nuts from the sidewalk vendors floated in the air.
Our plan was to walk up Fifth Avenue to RockefellerCenter, to see the tree. It seemed like this was everyone else’s destination, too. We joined the herd of people heading up Fifth Avenue. “Packed like sardines” doesn’t even begin to describe the crowds as we moved along.
After a few blocks, the crowd slowed down to a crawl. Something was blocking the sidewalk ahead. The kids and I couldn’t see what was causing the slowdown; packed in, we could only move along with the crowd. The crowd started to get cranky: kids whined, people grumbled and started jostling each other on the walkway. Because of the Christmas crowds and the traffic on the street next to us, the only place to go was to continue on the sidewalk, inching along.
As we moved up the street, we could see that the people up ahead seemed to move around something on the sidewalk, then continue on a bit faster. What could be causing this pedestrian traffic jam?
We got closer, and saw the reason for the jam up: an elderly couple was moving very slowly along on the sidewalk. Maybe they were married, maybe they were siblings or just friends. If I had to guess their ages, I’d say they were in their mid-to-late 90s. In spite of the warm weather, each was dressed in a heavy overcoat. They were both petite, frail looking, but with an amazing inner strength. The gentleman was bent over a walker, shuffling along. The lady was next to him, holding his arm for support, as she slowly shuffled along with him. Their package from the grocery store was hooked around the walker. Both were intently fixed on the sidewalk, determined, careful of where they were stepping, focusing on moving ahead.
In their own way, each one was supporting the other as they walked. Well, shuffled.
As they passed the couple on the sidewalk, the change in the crowd was remarkable. The people passing stopped talking, gave the couple a gentle smile, and walked around them, giving them plenty of room on the sidewalk. As the crowd reformed in front of the couple, the mood had changed: people had more patience, and they were friendlier to those around them. People who just a few moments before were very grouchy, were now smiling, greeting strangers with a “Hello” and a “Merry Christmas” while waiting for the light to change at the next cross walk.
I saw God that day in the elderly couple on Fifth Avenue. In their simple daily activity, The Lord used that couple to show that we are to love and care for each other, support one another, as we move along in life. Always.
© Diane L. Neuls DeBlasio, Seeing God In The Ordinary 2011
Seeing God in the Ordinary 