Archives

The trick to riding

Nov20

20111120-165737.jpg

I love this sign. I see it every time I saddle up to ride. Funny thing is though now that I’m learning how to barrel race and eventually rope, Jo thinks it might be good for me to learn how to fall off a horse safely.

I’ve never really viewed falling as something I do safely. I always thought falling to be the equivalent of being unceremoniously dumped on my butt.

To help me better grasp the concept Jo changed her verbiage. Rather than thinking of it as falling, it’s really an emergency dismount. I don’t want to show you how to fall, I want you to learn how to land on your feet and stay out of harms way.

I fall off my bike a lot but I’ve never fallen off a horse. When faced with dangerous situations, dismounting is sometimes your safest bet. It doesn’t matter if it’s a horse or a bike. A rider should always pay attention to their surroundings.

Knowing when and how to fall, is as important as knowing how to ride.

Heading for Yukon Oklahoma!

Sep15

Me with Michele VanDusen at Yukon Community Theater in 2010

Okay so it’s a little blurry but this photo is from last year’s A Funny Thing comedy night in Yukon Oklahoma. Michele and I were part of a comedy competition last year and have been asked to come back again this year. I am so stoked! Michele placed and while I did not — I’m going for it this year.

I’m new to the comedy circuit and while I felt weird starting stand up in my 40′s I’ve since discovered that I’m by no means the youngest newcomer. I met a gal in her 60′s this week starting comedy and I think that’s awesome.

I got into stand up as a way to overcome stage fright. I’ve been MCing various charity events over the years and struggle when the crowds reach over 50 people. Since doing stand up I can now speak comfortably in crowds much larger than that.

Learning stand up has made me a better speaker, a better writer, and just a lot more fun. Unless I’m trying to take your emotional temperature to assess whether or not I can joke with you, then I’m a neurotic mess. Fortunately those times are few and far between. Stand up has also given me a healthy outlet for my warped sense of humor which is definitely a good thing.

There was a time when telling jokes would terrify me and through practice, patience, time and friends who believe in me, I’ve over come that.

What fears have you faced down in your life? I’d love to hear from you.

This post written by Deana O’Hara for Redemption’s Heart. September 15 2011. All rights reserved.

 

 

Returning: It’s Always the Quiet Ones

Sep6

Me in 1995

It’s always the quiet ones. Police tape and blood are scattered everywhere. The press interviews the neighbors they all say the same thing about the person who committed the crime, “They were so nice, and so quiet, I just can’t imagine.”

I was nice you know. Really I was.  Way back when the world was my oyster and everyone was my friend. I was so nice to people  that I bordered on masochistic. It did not matter what I wanted, needed, or cared about it – I was more than willing to lay down and make room for everyone else. It was after all the “nice” thing to do.

I just knew that soon or later  if I laid down for you, the day would come back where you would step aside to make room for my wants and needs. Only life doesn’t work that way. We do not as humans necessarily notice the things (or people) we step over. We are too focused on our end point to see the cracks in the sidewalk. The only things we really notice along the way are the people walking next to us, that and the gum on our shoes.

One would think that wisdom and years would teach me that being the walking one, beside you as an equal, would gather far greater results than being gum.

One would think.

I met a woman at work one day who had more tenacity than a viper and absolutely no shame whatsoever. She had her eyes on her end game. My husband actually. He and I worked on separate floors in the same building, had two boys, and had only been married about five years when she entered the scene. Jezabel (as I lovingly called her) worked on his floor.  He took her far less seriously than I did and the very fact that he told me about her attempts at asking him out or being near him just reinforced that. She was in his mind – harmless.

My mind? Notsomuch.

In a passive attempt to mark my territory, I started using lilac scented fabric softener on his laundry, framed photos of the boys for his desk and sent cute “I love you” gifts for him to display. I even went to glamour shots and had the hottest photograph of my self ever taken, promptly framed it and made him put it on his desk.

None of it worked.

I knew I was in trouble when she crossed in front of my car while I was driving in to work.

Nice me seriously considered flooring it.

It was time to meet face to face in a non homicidal friendly environment, even though arranging that might be problematic. Turns out I didn’t have to, providence has a way of handling things on her own.

Our introduction was rather spectacular actually. We were out with friends from work at a local sports bar when she entered (with man on her arm no less). Did I mention that she was a knock out? Well she was. I spotted her before my husband did and rather than warn him, I chose to sit back and see how this plays out.

The minute she saw us, she left her boy toy in the dust, rushed over, threw her arms around him, gave him a hug and a kiss, sat on the stool to his left (I was on the right)placed her hand on his thigh and proceed to chatter up a storm.

I can imagine little worse than being a man stuck in the middle of what surely is to become a blood bath.

Quickly hoping to take the attention off himself he introduced us — and ducked. Her hands were immediately airborne, reaching to shake mine and in a high pitch squeaky voice, she offers me her name.

Formerly nice me – left her hand hanging in mid-air.

I simply smiled and said “Oh look, it’s Alvin with breasts. How nice.”

The entire table ruptured with laughter.

I didn’t need my car after all.

I guess the neighbors are right, it IS always the quiet ones.

It was the kind of come back I’d dreamed of all my life, so why did I feel so badly?

Did you ever intentionally hurt someone? How did it feel? Was it worth it?

This post written by Deana O’Hara for Redemption’s Heart. September 6, 2011. All rights reserved.

Ooh They Come in Pink!

Sep2

Status on Facebook: So I’m shopping at Bass Pro with my wife and I’m talking to this guy about 7.1:1 vs. 6.4:1 reel ratios, 7 baring vs. 9, magnetic brake vs. Pin braking system…..you know, the usual stuff. Then we hear a voice behind us “Ooh! They come in pink”! My wife is now the proud owner of a Zebco rod/reel combo. Humbling really…..(Jeff O’Hara )

Not only do I have a pink rod and reel, I have pink line, pink bait, and a pink hat. I’m ready to fish. All I need to do now is remember where I put that fishing licence we got last May. Why pink you ask? Easy, 1. It’s my favorite color. 2. I live with three guys (1 husband, 2 sons) Pink is the only color I know they won’t “borrow.”

It’s a Girl!

Aug17

I would like you to meet the newest addition to the O’Hara household. Her name is Cassidy (From the Grateful Dead), and she is about 4 1/2 months old.  We found her in the church parking lot on Sunday Morning, August 14.  I couldn’t just leave her there, she’d get hit.  With all of the storms we’ve had we thought perhaps she was just lost. We’ve called the vets, shelters, kennels and put up signs. No one has claimed her or even called. Two other puppies with similar markings were dropped off this weekend at the animal shelter as strays. Someone apparently dropped them off near Mohawk park some time last week.  That happens a lot.

I’ve taken her to the vets to be de-wormed (she has hook worm) and will get her the full puppy shots starting next week. We have a crate for her which she sleeps in and she is safe to be around our border collie at home.

The vet was able to put her at 4 1/2 months of age because of her teeth. She has a few scars but nothing seriously wrong with her. She’s small in stature, weighing in at 21 pounds and is only about 18 inches tall. She has webbed feet which suggests a retriever mix of some kind, but she won’t be that big.  Her coloring also suggests border collie. She has a voracious appetite and I have to feed her small meals or she’ll eat until she throws up — another sign that she’s been on the street for a few days. She’s starving.

She’s a cutie and can already lap Rocky (my border collie) when running around our pool. The vet told us he needed to lose weight and I’m thinking she’s just the answer. Rocky is only five and I’m sure he’ll adjust to having a puppy and begin to play with her more as he builds up his endurance. She is typical female in that she loves to talk (bark) to him and when he doesn’t respond she’ll come over to me and whine at me as if to say, “He won’t play with me!” –

I was not planning on getting another dog so soon after putting Sheba down last June, still, a rescue seems to fit our family right now. Welcome to the family Cassidy.

Oh I forgive you, but I’m still going to make you pay.

Jul31

Not long before she died in 1988, in a moment of surprising candor in television, Marghanita Laski, one of our best-known secular humanists and novelists, said, “What I envy most about you Christians is your forgiveness; I have nobody to forgive me.”

John Stott in The Contemporary Christian.

You’ve blown it and you know it. Rather than deny it, you suck up your pride and apologize. Being forgiven feels wonderful (see Can you Give Me Three Days?), but what happens when they choose not to forgive you? Do you fall apart, jump through impossible hoops, or do you just walk away?

It is impossible to make someone forgive me and I hate that. I like to think that I am basically a nice person and that most people like me. And yet, we all have people in our lives who cannot, for whatever reason, forgive even the slightest of hurts even after we’ve apologized and made ammends. Or perhaps, they say they’ve forgiven , but oh are they gonna make you pay.

While I know that forgiveness is not an entitlement or a right, I do believe that being willing to forgive comes with healthy relationships.

I live in the same fallen world as the rest of you and not all of my relationships are healthy. I have choices as how to respond in light of this. I can either:

1. become a neurotic insecure people-pleaser, crushed by failure in the face of unforgiveness. I know this world well.

OR

2. I can accept who I am in Christ, know that God is in charge of everything, including my dysfunctional relationships and allow His Grace to carry me through.

I spend a lot of time in both camps. Learning how to stay in Camp 2, takes time, practice, patience, and lots of prayer.

Like it or not, there are people in this world who would rather set them selves on fire over my sins (real or imagined) and hope I die from smoke inhalation than forgive me. It doesn’t matter how many flaming hoops I jump through, or how deep the eggshells I walk on are, I can still feel the undercurrent.

I’m not a strong relational swimmer and under currents can pull me under more quickly than you can say…

                               well…..

                                             anything really.

It is difficult to show love in the face of being unforgiven;  anger brews just beneath the surface, snarky remarks and lit arrows flow freely and there are not eggshells big enough to walk on to keep the tinderbox from igniting. Fortunately love is a verb and not a noun. It is not my responsibility to make sure the other person forgives me or receives loving actions well, it is only my responsibility to make amends carry them out.

Maybe you have people like that in your life, or maybe you are that unwilling to forgive person. Either way, unforgiveness is an invisible weight that bares down on the soul and suffocates hope.  Unforgiven might make for a good Clint Eastwood movie, but it doesn’t cut it in real life.

Unforgiving people suffer from all kinds of spiritual maladies such as depression, anger, fear, insecurity, isolation, and  loneliness to name a few.  An unforgiving spirit almost feels entitled to punish those who’ve wounded them in the past by either withholding relationship, or by constantly reminding them of past mistakes. I know because for a long time, I was such a person. Unforgiveness is based in selfishness and pride.

Now I’m not talking about major screw ups here, although I’ve been guilty of those myself and yes, even those can be forgiven. Rather I’m referring to the lifetime of mis-steps, misunderstandings, and oversights that add up and take their toll when someone allows those events to take precedent in their mind.

It isn’t the little things that kill relationships, it’s the unwillingness to let them go.

An unforgiving person will ask me, “How do I know you won’t hurt me again?”

The unfortunate, yet honest, answer is, “You don’t and truthfully, I probably will. I’m not perfect.”

It really boils down to choices you know.

  • We choose to love.
  • We choose to be in relationship
  • We choose to forgive.

So what do you do when you are in a relationship with someone who chooses not to forgive past hurts? Do you choose to love them anyway or move on? I think it depends on the relationship and it depends on you. –

Three things I like to remember:

1. It is not about me. - It is impossible to live up to the unrealistic expectations of others, and being imperfect people we will inevitably have a bad day and let each other down. Healthy relationships involve telling each other the truth, facing problems head on, confessing our shortcomings and forgiving each other without keeping score.

I have no idea what has happened to the other person to create such a lifetime of hurt. Only Christ can fill that void and heal that hurt.

2. Unforgiven does not equal unforgivable - I have a book I like to read and it states, “As God’s people we stand on our feet; we don’t crawl before anyone.” — I am God’s child and my past is in his hands and no one else’s. Jesus Christ came to die for my sins. I am cleansed by his blood and set free from the past through his sacrifice. When I place my self-worth on a human beings ability – or lack thereof to forgive me, I place them on a higher plane than God.

3. The bells tolls for them not me, it’s okay to drop the rope. - Corrie ten Boom told of not being able to forget a wrong that had been done to her. She had forgiven the person, but she kept rehashing the incident and so couldn’t sleep. Finally Corrie cried out to God for help in putting the problem to rest. “His help came in the form of a kindly Lutheran pastor,” Corrie wrote, “to whom I confessed my failure after two sleepless weeks.” “Up in the church tower,” he said, nodding out the window, “is a bell which is rung by pulling on a rope. But you know what? After the sexton lets go of the rope, the bell keeps on swinging. First ding, then dong. Slower and slower until there’s a final dong and it stops. I believe the same thing is true of forgiveness. When we forgive, we take our hand off the rope. But if we’ve been tugging at our grievances for a long time, we mustn’t be surprised if the old angry thoughts keep coming for a while. They’re just the ding-dongs of the old bell slowing down.” “And so it proved to be. There were a few more midnight reverberations, a couple of dings when the subject came up in my conversations, but the force — which was my willingness in the matter — had gone out of them. They came less and less often and at the last stopped altogether: we can trust God not only above our emotions, but also above our thoughts.” (source: http://www.sermonillustrations.com/a-z/f/forgiveness.htm)

Just because we have someone in our life who insists on pulling that rope and ringing our bell, it doesn’t mean we have to answer it, we can drop the rope. We can choose to detach with love, forgive them, and surrender them to Christ. Only then can we be free.

Being unforgiven by others does not mean I am unforgiven by God, nor does it mean that I can be unforgiving.  Beth Moore has a great teaching on this very subject on Life Today. For more information on Living a Forgiving Life — You can see Beth Moore on Life Today at: http://www.godtube.com/watch/?v=JB99CMNU and Part 2 at: http://www.godtube.com/watch/?v=JBE0MJNU

This post written by Deana O’Hara for Redemption’s Heart. July 30, 2011. All rights reserved.

Related articles

Gammy’s Gardens

Jul27

My mother is an artist and even though she has not picked up a brush since the day her father died, she still creates. Her artwork is evident in her quilts, and especially in her gardens. Gammy (as my boys call her) always seems happiest in her garden, and with results like these, who wouldn’t be?

Moonflower beginning to unfold

This moon flower, only opens for one night and then it's gone. It's beauty is worth the wait.

Birdbaths can be found through out her yard.

She even has chipmunks for entertainment

There are hidden treasures in every nook and cranny of her home, from masks, to feeders, to climbers and more. Living in a state where everything dies from the heat, I’m always envious of her results. I’m gathering all of my photographs of her gardens over the years and creating a book for her on my publisher dot com for Christmas. I think she’ll like it. Don’t you?

It’s a Wrap: Movies, Mysteries, & Mercies Oh My!

Jun20

See 2 Samuel 22

Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in one pretty and well preserved piece… but to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, worn out and defiantly shouting, WOW WHAT A RIDE!

What a ride is right. Here is just a glimpse of what has been happening in our home life over the past 30 days.

Pictures were not allowed at Cowgirls N Angels Filming

1. I was cast in my very first movie ever. Being cast as an extra on the Cowgirls N Angels set was a thrill and a half for this woman. I spent two days in the blistering heat of Oklahoma with about 200 other actors/extras filming the rodeo scenes. I’m what they call “back ground” – and the truth is, you may or may not see me after the final slicing and dicing of the movie or with my luck I may wind up being the “woman in the porta john.” Either way, I know I was there and I have the sunburn, new friends, and paycheck to prove it. While being an extra may not be the same level of work as being the star, it’s still work. Paid work at that. Neato!

Gravestone Murder Mystery Dinner at OSL

2. Murder Mysteries are a riot and a half, especially working with this crew. Heather and Amy run a bible based fitness program at our church. Every year they host an awards banquet / fundraiser. This year they wrote a murder mystery and asked my hubs and I to participate. I got to play Kate: saloon gal, gambler, and girlfriend of Doc Galliday. While we did have a written script, most of our lines were improv. Kate is basically the life of the party and gets to flirt with every cowboy in the room. I learned a very valuable lesson that night. Being a church event and all, not all of the cowboys flirted back. I did eventually find a real live cowboy to play with and the results were hilarious. He is a local rancher and as he put it “Darlin’, you don’t want to start this with me, I know I can make you blush and I’m man enough to finish this.”  - he was right, how I wound up on that man’s lap is not real clear.  It all happened so fast, but I believe he had help as I seem to think I was pushed. I’ve never been so red in my life. Lesson learned: When doing improv with audience participation, be careful not to bite off more than you can chew.

Bon Fire at the Lake

3. My baby turned 18.  We celebrated our youngest son’s birthday with a bon fire at our lake house. Every one had a good time. I still cannot believe that he is 18, but it’s true. My mama bear days are over. It is time for me to step back, allow my son to be a man and make his own choices and try my best to stay out of things. That is not easy for me as my oldest can attest. I’m still prone to jump in, take over, and offer much unsolicited advice. My youngest has had a job for about year now at a local store. A store that I’ve never been fond of and his experiences there, just reinforce that gut feel. I cannot go into the details, but my blood is boiling. All I can do right now is dig in my gardens (with Oklahoma clay that is not easy), plant beauty, listen to my son, and pray.

Life is an adventure balanced with thrills, chills, and sorrows. The difficulties in life keep us humble and ever reliant on God. The adventures in life, hopefully keep us thankful.

Until next time.

This post written by Deana O’Hara for Redemption’s Heart. June 20, 2011. All rights reserved. 

D-Man is 18 Today.

Jun10

My youngest son is turning 18 today. I cannot begin to count the years. His joyful spirit, insatiable curiosity, artistic talent and eye for the spiritual has left his father and myself deeply changed. I guess he’s finished with his job of raising us to be good parents. He’s an adult now. WOW. Am I ready? – nope.

And Some See Chariots

When my boys were born, I kept the baby monitors on full blast so that I could hear the slightest sound and run in, should they need me. When they were sick, I slept on the floor next to their crib. You might say, I was a zealous new mother. I don’t know who learned how to sleep through the night first, me or my boys. Even today, I still have one ear cocked just in case.

My youngest son has epilepsy. Dillon had his first grand mal seizure while napping in our bed at six-years-old. (If you don’t know what Grand Mal means, it’s where the whole body convulses.) He’d had a migraine that morning and we were resting. The seizure took me by total surprise and I called the paramedics in a panic.
I would try to sleep in our bed after that and would invariably wind up on his bedroom floor listening. I kept this pattern up for about a month, before finally letting go. A year went by before he had another seizure.

On Father’s Day 2000, I could hear Dillon hiccupping in the hallway. He had gotten up to sleep by the vent like he does on so many other nights. I got up to check on him and move him back into his own bed only something wasn’t right. When I sat down next to him to wake him up, I noticed that something was wrong. His eyes were fully dilated and when he saw me he got up with great difficulty. Using the right side of his body only, he began to crawl towards me. I grabbed Dillon and pulled him onto my lap. He had lost all strength on the left side of his body and his speech was slurred and slow. I’d thought he’d had a stroke and Jeff called 911.

The paramedics arrived pretty quickly, and said that he had indeed had a mild stroke, or TIA as they call it. And off to the hospital we went. CT scans revealed nothing except that, Dillon had not had a stroke, he’d a seizure.

What Dillon was experiencing was the after effects of a nocturnal frontal lobe seizure. His motor skills and muscle strength did return after a while. His memory of our family trip to Disney two weeks prior, did not return. The short-term memory loss was permanent.

Dillon had a dozen more seizures before Epilepsy was diagnosed. Even then it took months to get it under control with the right medications.

Both Dillon and I were afraid to sleep at night. My maternal instincts kept me awake listening for the slightest noise, so that I could run in and be there should he need me. I did not have the strength to sleep. My friends and I prayed continually for healing and for peace.
Every night our family would pray together that Jesus would hold Dillon while he slept and that God would send his angels down to watch over us and keep all of us safe. And we would try to crawl in to His lap for peace and comfort.

One night while we were sitting on our back porch swing rocking and singing together, Dillon asked me how I knew God would send his angels. I didn’t have an answer for him, so I lied. I told him I just do, that it was about faith. But he looked up and said, “No Mommy. How do you KNOW He will?”

What happened to the easy questions, like “Where do babies come from?” That one I had an answer for. So I said a quiet prayer for the right words to say.

It was one of those crystal clear Oklahoma nights where the sky just goes on forever, and I pointed at the stars and asked him what he saw. (My intent was to say if God can hang the heavens then surely he could send a few angels to watch over a child.) Dillon looked at the stars and said something only a child could say,

“EYES!”

“Eyes?” I replied. “I see stars.”

He said “Yeah Mommy, ANGEL EYES!”

With that he ran out to the middle of the yard, threw his head and his arms back and said, “Wow Mommy! Look at all the angels God sent to watch over me!” Then he gave me a quick hug and a kiss and ran back to bed, sleeping soundly for the first time in ages.

I did not run straight to bed and sleep soundly. I fell flat on my face before the God of the universe in my backyard and asked him to see what my son sees.

Elisha saw Chariots, Dillon sees angels and I am learning to see the hand of God at work in ways I never imagined.

And Elisha prayed,
“O LORD, open his eyes so he may see.”
Then the LORD opened the servant’s eyes,
and he looked and saw the hills full
of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha.”

Dillon’s seizures remained in remission from 2001 to 2004. After finding new medications and treatments, Dillon has now been seizure free since October 5, 2008 and will be taking his drivers test next week.

Added: August 24, 20111 — I’m happy to report that Dillon has passed his driver’s test – first time out I might add – and is now driving. Something we never thought possible.

Sometimes it’s just not funny.

Feb8

Have you ever been through one of those times where things just don’t seem funny? You know what I mean. The normal things that used to make you laugh just make you raise an eyebrow instead. I’m kind of in that mood. It’s not hormones (got that fixed last year) I’ve just been in this funk for a couple of weeks now and I’m not sure how to pull out.

Please don’t go sending me your left over Prozac, I’m not depressed. A little snow blind maybe, but nothing more.

I was giddy just a few weeks ago. I mean I hired Taylor Mason to perform at our church. Jim Belushi told me to add him on my Facebook (Holy Cannolis Batman, Jim Belushi knows who I am — ) and I’ve lost 13 pounds. I should be stinking ecstatic. And those are all really cool wonderful things — and I am happy about them.

What I haven’t figured out though is how to handle the unhappiness that surrounds us. One friend is having painful family issues, a friend has a child who is sick, others (plural) are going through divorce friends unfairly fired, another friend fell pretty painfully, and now I’ve learned about someone dealing with aggressive breast cancer and my poor heart just couldn’t take it anymore. Her’s was the last bad news I could stand before bursting into tears – on the spot- in church in front of God, my pastor and the whole congregation. It’s like the whole world has gone mad.

I know it hasn’t, but wow it can feel that way some times.

So, what do you guys do when the news of the world seems to press in on all sides? How do we keep our hearts open, and receptive to others without drowning?

Thoughts?