The deluge has caused everyone to run in from outside. From my vantage point, up on the stage behind the gentleman speaking, I have a great opportunity to watch them.
It is with laughter and joy that they filter in.
God, creating reason for us all to be squished together so closely in community. Forcing us together when we have chosen our own respective comfort zones apart from one another.
We are at camp meeting. It is so very hot up here where I am but I wouldn't trade it for anything. The view that I have from my seat is amazing. So many people, in the heat, on hard benches, listening to how the Lord is working in lives, in hearts, in the camp.
When we are finished and it is time for the choir to brave the rain and make their way to their seats, I find mine. At the very back, the very.last.row. Husband is waiting patiently. I wonder if we will be able to concentrate on the message. So many distractions there. But it causes me to realize that God meets me even in the very back. Wherever I am.
He is there.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Stewardship of Grace
This is my favorite place to be.
I stand in front of a huge black pot, sliced onion and garlic sizzling at the bottom. Just a touch of olive and salt...smell of love.
...Your grace found me...
I hear the words sung to a tune drift through the air. Baby gorgeous has her head down over a table of beads. She's stringing together words that make up the thoughts of her mind on this Saturday afternoon.
...happy girl....from a flower life...wow be sweet...
All pink and purple and yellow and fun. What is a "flower life" anyway?
There's a basket of laundry in the middle of the floor. Piles of coverings that we choose to display our personality. Or to disguise it.
I hear the tumble, tumble, thud of the dryer. Blankets, all caught up within one another, rolled into a ball. Not allowing the heat and the tossing to do their job. To extract the damp and leave them soft and without moisture.
Water to the pot, now the slow rise to a boil. Time to gather thoughts.
Back to grace....
...grace, grace, God's grace, grace that will pardon and cleanse within...
I am in desperate need of Your grace today Lord. A tangible acceptance of Your grace. I know it's here. It encircles me...I must reach out and grasp it. Welcome it into my heart, allow it to change, heal, grow my soul. No turning of my back to it or You. A face-to-face embrace of all the You have for me. I physically open up my chest, I look upwards to you. My hands are open. My heart is open. Fill me up.
Zucchini, yellow squash, cauliflower, carrots...all into the pot. This is Your bounty. The nourishment of my soul.
Stewardship of Grace.
Grace received. Grace extended.
Fill me with grace and mercy. Give me eyes to see and a heart to trust. You have a plan and it plays out. Tempered by Your grace and mercy.
Doubt not, He will not wait too long,
Fear not, He will not come too late.
I stand in front of a huge black pot, sliced onion and garlic sizzling at the bottom. Just a touch of olive and salt...smell of love.
...Your grace found me...
I hear the words sung to a tune drift through the air. Baby gorgeous has her head down over a table of beads. She's stringing together words that make up the thoughts of her mind on this Saturday afternoon.
...happy girl....from a flower life...wow be sweet...
All pink and purple and yellow and fun. What is a "flower life" anyway?
There's a basket of laundry in the middle of the floor. Piles of coverings that we choose to display our personality. Or to disguise it.
I hear the tumble, tumble, thud of the dryer. Blankets, all caught up within one another, rolled into a ball. Not allowing the heat and the tossing to do their job. To extract the damp and leave them soft and without moisture.
Water to the pot, now the slow rise to a boil. Time to gather thoughts.
Back to grace....
...grace, grace, God's grace, grace that will pardon and cleanse within...
I am in desperate need of Your grace today Lord. A tangible acceptance of Your grace. I know it's here. It encircles me...I must reach out and grasp it. Welcome it into my heart, allow it to change, heal, grow my soul. No turning of my back to it or You. A face-to-face embrace of all the You have for me. I physically open up my chest, I look upwards to you. My hands are open. My heart is open. Fill me up.
Zucchini, yellow squash, cauliflower, carrots...all into the pot. This is Your bounty. The nourishment of my soul.
Stewardship of Grace.
Grace received. Grace extended.
Fill me with grace and mercy. Give me eyes to see and a heart to trust. You have a plan and it plays out. Tempered by Your grace and mercy.
"O waiting soul, be still, be strong,
And though He tarry, trust and wait;Doubt not, He will not wait too long,
Fear not, He will not come too late.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Love That Will Not Let Me Go
I'm wondering if and how she will sleep tonight. This mother who now has one less living child. The thought of her and what she must be feeling is hanging on me like a weight. I don't know her. I've met her only once. But she is a mother and to that I can relate.
Two dear friends will be ministering to her and her family. How I am sure they wish they could all go back to this morning....when life was still normal.
The two young siblings, what things must be going through their minds tonight? How my heart grieves with them. For them. This is life now. This....this emptiness. This hole where once stood a vibrant girl on the verge of being a lovely young lady. This older sister who shared laughs and teasing, who made sandwiches and gave hugs.
This morning, my day began singing praise. Giving thanks. I stood in my kitchen with the biggest knife I own in one of my uplifted hands, face upturned to the ceiling, water running in the sink, music coming from the radio...giving glory to my God and King.
At the time, I almost felt like a fool.
Not so much now.
I'm so thankful. Thankful for the life that fills these walls. Thankful for the arguments and pouting. Thankful for the prayers and praises sung. Thankful for the slammed doors and the stomping feet. Evidence of life and breath and earthly presence.
In a few very short days, when all is over and the people are gone, these are the things she will miss. This mother's heart aches for her.
Earlier, as I was trying to form thoughts into words that could resemble some sort of prayer, this song came to my mind....
Two dear friends will be ministering to her and her family. How I am sure they wish they could all go back to this morning....when life was still normal.
The two young siblings, what things must be going through their minds tonight? How my heart grieves with them. For them. This is life now. This....this emptiness. This hole where once stood a vibrant girl on the verge of being a lovely young lady. This older sister who shared laughs and teasing, who made sandwiches and gave hugs.
This morning, my day began singing praise. Giving thanks. I stood in my kitchen with the biggest knife I own in one of my uplifted hands, face upturned to the ceiling, water running in the sink, music coming from the radio...giving glory to my God and King.
At the time, I almost felt like a fool.
Not so much now.
I'm so thankful. Thankful for the life that fills these walls. Thankful for the arguments and pouting. Thankful for the prayers and praises sung. Thankful for the slammed doors and the stomping feet. Evidence of life and breath and earthly presence.
In a few very short days, when all is over and the people are gone, these are the things she will miss. This mother's heart aches for her.
Earlier, as I was trying to form thoughts into words that could resemble some sort of prayer, this song came to my mind....
remember to pause the player at the bottom of this page
Praying that she may find comfort in a love that will not let her go....
Monday, July 11, 2011
Life Giving Word
My brain is slow today. Muddled by the heat perhaps? It's so hot.
Heat index hot.
Sticky, can't breathe hot.
Sunglasses-fogging-over hot.
Ick. Ewww.
I find solace at the kitchen table. In the middle of a home where the cold air is abundant. Where all that is here is the sound of the fridge running. The click of the keys on the computer in the front room where restless-boy is playing a game. Faint sounds of cartoons drifting high among the all the other sounds, not restless-boy this time but blessing-girl happy that her brother of but three years older isn't around.
Rest. I hear a home at rest.
A heart at rest, in any case.
I sit at the table, having spent some time in the Word. I sit and just look at the pages. The pages of the Book that is life-changing. I love to hear the crinkly sounds of the pages as they are turned. The weight of several as it's flipped to another verse. I feel the curve of it as it lies open under my palms. I sense it's breath of life and love. I soak in the words of the day...
...unfailing love...
...by grace you have been saved...
...love better than life...
Words that breathe hope into a heavy heart. Words that chase away clouds of despair. Words that tell of His greatness and speak the promises given. The corners are curled. The edging is all but disappeared. The first few and last pages are crumpled into messy accordion folds. As I move pages, notes and messages, cards and reminders spill out of it. I read, and reread, underline-with a ruler, no less-words that pour Truth into my soul. Knowing that the Word is simply His love letter to me, I thank Him for something tangible to hold in my hands. Examples of those gone before; instruction, encouragement, poetry, history, Jesus' words. Healing words. Comforting words.
I am inspired to speak about such love for my precious Bible as I am giving thanks for a friend who's treasured Bible has been restored to her after more than a year. I have been with her many times as she has lamented the loss of a gift she's had since she was younger. She has spoken of how valuable it was to her during her college years. Looking through it and seeing all that was underlined and marked-a Bible well loved-and wondering who it could belong to, it was pure sweetness to read her name written on the first page.
I am ever amazed by the goodness of God. I can't fathom His gifts to us. Or the joy that accompanies something so small.
Yet it is the "smallness" all accumulated that make up the whole.
Peering at this moment, I take it in, breathe it deep, imprint it in my mind and on my heart and rest in it for a moment. Finding refreshment.
Heat index hot.
Sticky, can't breathe hot.
Sunglasses-fogging-over hot.
Ick. Ewww.
I find solace at the kitchen table. In the middle of a home where the cold air is abundant. Where all that is here is the sound of the fridge running. The click of the keys on the computer in the front room where restless-boy is playing a game. Faint sounds of cartoons drifting high among the all the other sounds, not restless-boy this time but blessing-girl happy that her brother of but three years older isn't around.
Rest. I hear a home at rest.
A heart at rest, in any case.
I sit at the table, having spent some time in the Word. I sit and just look at the pages. The pages of the Book that is life-changing. I love to hear the crinkly sounds of the pages as they are turned. The weight of several as it's flipped to another verse. I feel the curve of it as it lies open under my palms. I sense it's breath of life and love. I soak in the words of the day...
...unfailing love...
...by grace you have been saved...
...love better than life...
Words that breathe hope into a heavy heart. Words that chase away clouds of despair. Words that tell of His greatness and speak the promises given. The corners are curled. The edging is all but disappeared. The first few and last pages are crumpled into messy accordion folds. As I move pages, notes and messages, cards and reminders spill out of it. I read, and reread, underline-with a ruler, no less-words that pour Truth into my soul. Knowing that the Word is simply His love letter to me, I thank Him for something tangible to hold in my hands. Examples of those gone before; instruction, encouragement, poetry, history, Jesus' words. Healing words. Comforting words.
I am inspired to speak about such love for my precious Bible as I am giving thanks for a friend who's treasured Bible has been restored to her after more than a year. I have been with her many times as she has lamented the loss of a gift she's had since she was younger. She has spoken of how valuable it was to her during her college years. Looking through it and seeing all that was underlined and marked-a Bible well loved-and wondering who it could belong to, it was pure sweetness to read her name written on the first page.
I am ever amazed by the goodness of God. I can't fathom His gifts to us. Or the joy that accompanies something so small.
Yet it is the "smallness" all accumulated that make up the whole.
Peering at this moment, I take it in, breathe it deep, imprint it in my mind and on my heart and rest in it for a moment. Finding refreshment.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
A "Sort of" Love Letter
Why didn't someone tell me how difficult it would be to be your mother? Not because you are difficult but because you have broken my heart like no other man has. Child of my heart. Child of my broken heart. Boy of my young, selfish, immature love.
I wanted you to be a girl. So much so I cried and cried walking around a store after the ultrasound. I was going to name you Erica.
Actually, the crying was probably more for the other man who has come the closest to the breaking of my heart. The one who left me, alone, heart crushed, dreams ruined, in a state far away from home, with no money, no job, no friends, nothing. The one I thought I would be with forever. God knowing what only He knows, that was not the right place or person for me. How foolish I was in trying to force God's hand. Make this man-boy a respectable husband-father. He had no idea who he was or what he wanted. Except he knew he didn't want me, round with his child, clingy with neediness.
He didn't reject you. He didn't know you. You were yet to be, but I'm sure it feels like rejection.
Is this why you struggle? Why you fight so hard? Why it is so difficult for me to do the necessary things to help you grow? How odd, I sit here now, tears flowing. Heart breaking all over again. Thinking back to a place I had hoped never to return. But sometimes it is good to look back.
To see how far you've come.
I am so thankful for the here and now. The life that is; this house that has Christ and life and love; the marriage that nurtures, sustains, gives joy. How, looking back, I would never choose that over this. How this man who initially gave life to you, whom you are physically made of, is nothing of the man I really wanted. But before I knew Jesus, before my love for Him was a vibrant current in my soul, I thought I could go my own way. Get what I wanted my way. Be given value by a man.
This is what you fight against now. Your own way. Your heart strains against what you perceive to be confines, holding you back from all that you think you want. Your young mind hasn't opened to the eyes that discern the Truth that illuminates your way. Your tough exterior that you have built up to protect yourself only keeps everything out: good and bad alike. So while you have no visible depth of sorrow (for it is still there, hidden deep away) you also do not know soul-piercing joy.
How I long for you to accept His grace. Accept that you are a broken man-child. Hurting from oh.so.many.things. Fearful to take a chance. Searching for acceptance and validation from other broken, hurting people of this world. I want to witness more of the integrity that is within you that you attempt to crush with your "coolness" and "style".
I long to hear that you have obtained the salvation that is in Jesus Christ, with eternal glory. I want to find joy in knowing that you are walking in the truth. I am praying for you to grow in grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Please listen to instruction and be wise; do not disregard it.
I so want this to be quick and soon. But God has His plans of which I know nothing of. Although I do know that He wants all to come to repentance. It is in repentance and rest where you salvation lies, and in quietness and trust is your strength. Will you have none of it? He longs to be good to you, my restless child. Won't you open your heart? Hear the words of our Father, calling out to you, bringing you ever closer to Him?
Even now, as I pour out these words, your heart is breaking. You are experiencing pain unlike what you've experienced before. It is coming. This "growing". Necessary but not wanted in this way. Is it unfortunate that we all find a need to learn this way? The hard way? I don't think so. The lessons we gain from this difficulty are better remembered. Never have we had the promise of a perfect life, only that we will have the One who is above all things walking with us. Made even more evident as the world lets us down and we realize there is only One who will never do that.
It is in our pain that we manage to seek Him more diligently.
It is in heartbreak that we cry out.
I have been praying in my broken sleep. I wake with your name and Jesus' name on my lips and in my soul. My heart is moved and the anger that was swelling just yesterday has been tempered by love. For I know where you are, I've been there myself.
It's in the loving where the pain lies. Loving, truly loving as God intends it, gives us eyes to see. Makes us vulnerable. Draws on compassion. Links us together by sufferings that are known by both.
Child with a broken heart. Child of my healed heart.
I wanted you to be a girl. So much so I cried and cried walking around a store after the ultrasound. I was going to name you Erica.
Actually, the crying was probably more for the other man who has come the closest to the breaking of my heart. The one who left me, alone, heart crushed, dreams ruined, in a state far away from home, with no money, no job, no friends, nothing. The one I thought I would be with forever. God knowing what only He knows, that was not the right place or person for me. How foolish I was in trying to force God's hand. Make this man-boy a respectable husband-father. He had no idea who he was or what he wanted. Except he knew he didn't want me, round with his child, clingy with neediness.
He didn't reject you. He didn't know you. You were yet to be, but I'm sure it feels like rejection.
Is this why you struggle? Why you fight so hard? Why it is so difficult for me to do the necessary things to help you grow? How odd, I sit here now, tears flowing. Heart breaking all over again. Thinking back to a place I had hoped never to return. But sometimes it is good to look back.
To see how far you've come.
I am so thankful for the here and now. The life that is; this house that has Christ and life and love; the marriage that nurtures, sustains, gives joy. How, looking back, I would never choose that over this. How this man who initially gave life to you, whom you are physically made of, is nothing of the man I really wanted. But before I knew Jesus, before my love for Him was a vibrant current in my soul, I thought I could go my own way. Get what I wanted my way. Be given value by a man.
This is what you fight against now. Your own way. Your heart strains against what you perceive to be confines, holding you back from all that you think you want. Your young mind hasn't opened to the eyes that discern the Truth that illuminates your way. Your tough exterior that you have built up to protect yourself only keeps everything out: good and bad alike. So while you have no visible depth of sorrow (for it is still there, hidden deep away) you also do not know soul-piercing joy.
How I long for you to accept His grace. Accept that you are a broken man-child. Hurting from oh.so.many.things. Fearful to take a chance. Searching for acceptance and validation from other broken, hurting people of this world. I want to witness more of the integrity that is within you that you attempt to crush with your "coolness" and "style".
I long to hear that you have obtained the salvation that is in Jesus Christ, with eternal glory. I want to find joy in knowing that you are walking in the truth. I am praying for you to grow in grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Please listen to instruction and be wise; do not disregard it.
I so want this to be quick and soon. But God has His plans of which I know nothing of. Although I do know that He wants all to come to repentance. It is in repentance and rest where you salvation lies, and in quietness and trust is your strength. Will you have none of it? He longs to be good to you, my restless child. Won't you open your heart? Hear the words of our Father, calling out to you, bringing you ever closer to Him?
Even now, as I pour out these words, your heart is breaking. You are experiencing pain unlike what you've experienced before. It is coming. This "growing". Necessary but not wanted in this way. Is it unfortunate that we all find a need to learn this way? The hard way? I don't think so. The lessons we gain from this difficulty are better remembered. Never have we had the promise of a perfect life, only that we will have the One who is above all things walking with us. Made even more evident as the world lets us down and we realize there is only One who will never do that.
It is in our pain that we manage to seek Him more diligently.
It is in heartbreak that we cry out.
I have been praying in my broken sleep. I wake with your name and Jesus' name on my lips and in my soul. My heart is moved and the anger that was swelling just yesterday has been tempered by love. For I know where you are, I've been there myself.
It's in the loving where the pain lies. Loving, truly loving as God intends it, gives us eyes to see. Makes us vulnerable. Draws on compassion. Links us together by sufferings that are known by both.
Child with a broken heart. Child of my healed heart.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Changes in Eyesight
I am changed. Made evident in the way it permeates my thoughts and is manifested by my outward responses.
A friend made mention of the intriguing thoughts within the pages and something she said-what? I cannot remember?-prompted me to run right out, dragging my two young ones (seriously, I went THAT night and if you only knew how many times I had already been to these places for other purchases....) and try to find this. After a fruitless search of every place in this town that would have a copy, I broke down and purchased one right off the internet. And received it the very next day. After many weeks of knowing of its existence and not having been much moved to purchase one for myself, much less open it, I have found words that have moved me in a way not unlike only Scripture has ever done before. Changed from within. Certainly the printed letters all formed and inspired by Scripture itself, and yet again, God has used someone else to get through to me.
This idea of giving thanks and how it precedes, always precedes, the blessing. How I find myself not just giving thanks but seeking Him in the grande and the mundane. How I am searching, looking, seeing that which He is revealing to me. And not just a love list at the end of the day but a moment by moment analysis, one that keeps me in the moment long enough for it to be named and known and forever imprinted upon my heart.
He gives me words to praise Him and I somehow cannot stop the flow. The thoughts and words form and begin to take shape and as I follow the thread, the train picks up speed and my heart begins to swell and suddenly I am about to burst and how did I not SEE that before? I can't write it or type it as fast as it is coming and is this SO many years of my ungratefulness now redeemed and characterized by how quickly I can now SEE the gifts so wonderfully bestowed by my ardent Lover? The fullness of every moment, captured by my mind and given words and savored.
Living fully as she has so graciously pointed out.
A friend made mention of the intriguing thoughts within the pages and something she said-what? I cannot remember?-prompted me to run right out, dragging my two young ones (seriously, I went THAT night and if you only knew how many times I had already been to these places for other purchases....) and try to find this. After a fruitless search of every place in this town that would have a copy, I broke down and purchased one right off the internet. And received it the very next day. After many weeks of knowing of its existence and not having been much moved to purchase one for myself, much less open it, I have found words that have moved me in a way not unlike only Scripture has ever done before. Changed from within. Certainly the printed letters all formed and inspired by Scripture itself, and yet again, God has used someone else to get through to me.
This idea of giving thanks and how it precedes, always precedes, the blessing. How I find myself not just giving thanks but seeking Him in the grande and the mundane. How I am searching, looking, seeing that which He is revealing to me. And not just a love list at the end of the day but a moment by moment analysis, one that keeps me in the moment long enough for it to be named and known and forever imprinted upon my heart.
He gives me words to praise Him and I somehow cannot stop the flow. The thoughts and words form and begin to take shape and as I follow the thread, the train picks up speed and my heart begins to swell and suddenly I am about to burst and how did I not SEE that before? I can't write it or type it as fast as it is coming and is this SO many years of my ungratefulness now redeemed and characterized by how quickly I can now SEE the gifts so wonderfully bestowed by my ardent Lover? The fullness of every moment, captured by my mind and given words and savored.
Living fully as she has so graciously pointed out.
Ask and it will given to you;
seek and you will find;
knock and the door will be opened to you.
For everyone who asks receives;
he who seeks finds;
and to him who knocks,
the door will be opened.
Matthew 7:7-8
Friday, July 1, 2011
Daughter of My Heart
She is just like me. This girl-child I have nurtured under my heart.
I am up now, having just delicately removed myself from my bed, where she has fallen asleep on my shoulder. She falls into dreamland instantly-that is so much like me. She came in this morning to "chat". She was out so quickly...I take this moment and savor it. I watch her sleep.
Her morning breath is sweet. Her skin is soft. Her lashes so fluttery. Her face now pinched into an awful expression-what was that thought skittering through your little head? You, who have not known what it is like to grow up in a house that is noisy with fighting and tense with pent up emotion. What could frighten you even in your rest?
It is gone as quickly as it flashed by. Back to the softness of skin and shallowness of breath. Dreaming, dreaming, dreaming. Such the romantic, in love with happy endings, I wouldn't doubt that she is already planning her future of happiness.
She struggles with intense emotion-whoa, is THAT like me! She melts so quickly, so completely, beyond what she herself is capable of handling. Beyond any way that I can help. I must continue to teach her as I am learning. The meltdowns don't accomplish that which we want. They just make it uglier. They harden our hearts and require so many pleas for forgiveness to too many. But if she can begin to learn now, rather than in her 30's as I began, then perhaps she stands a chance. If she will just call on Him. Cry out to the One who can take the extreme rush of feeling and channel into something good...chisel away that which is worldly and replace it with the character of Christ. But it will not be easy for this one. No, her stubbornness and ungratefulness is all too much like me as well. She most likely will choose the hard way....like me. I will teach her thankfulness, just as I am learning. We will give thanks together. And worship together. And love Jesus together.
She will have romance.
She will have her happy ending.
With my hands open, I give thanks for the child she is, and I offer her back to the One who has bestowed her upon me. Everything my heart knew it wanted. Everything only God could hear and know and give.
I am up now, having just delicately removed myself from my bed, where she has fallen asleep on my shoulder. She falls into dreamland instantly-that is so much like me. She came in this morning to "chat". She was out so quickly...I take this moment and savor it. I watch her sleep.
Her morning breath is sweet. Her skin is soft. Her lashes so fluttery. Her face now pinched into an awful expression-what was that thought skittering through your little head? You, who have not known what it is like to grow up in a house that is noisy with fighting and tense with pent up emotion. What could frighten you even in your rest?
It is gone as quickly as it flashed by. Back to the softness of skin and shallowness of breath. Dreaming, dreaming, dreaming. Such the romantic, in love with happy endings, I wouldn't doubt that she is already planning her future of happiness.
She struggles with intense emotion-whoa, is THAT like me! She melts so quickly, so completely, beyond what she herself is capable of handling. Beyond any way that I can help. I must continue to teach her as I am learning. The meltdowns don't accomplish that which we want. They just make it uglier. They harden our hearts and require so many pleas for forgiveness to too many. But if she can begin to learn now, rather than in her 30's as I began, then perhaps she stands a chance. If she will just call on Him. Cry out to the One who can take the extreme rush of feeling and channel into something good...chisel away that which is worldly and replace it with the character of Christ. But it will not be easy for this one. No, her stubbornness and ungratefulness is all too much like me as well. She most likely will choose the hard way....like me. I will teach her thankfulness, just as I am learning. We will give thanks together. And worship together. And love Jesus together.
She will have romance.
She will have her happy ending.
With my hands open, I give thanks for the child she is, and I offer her back to the One who has bestowed her upon me. Everything my heart knew it wanted. Everything only God could hear and know and give.
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