Grab Your Hammer

The look on his face was priceless.  At 16 years old, my son is well accustomed to doing his own laundry. Yesterday, his dad, as an act of love and kindness folded his clean clothes. It was just a mundane moment of love... not difficult for Dad, right?  It took only minutes of his time.  But, to my son... it was a gift.

We heard the surprise and confusion in his voice, calling from upstairs, "Did you fold my laundry, Mom?"  Nope, I said.  It was Dad.

The look on his face, as he ran downstairs, was beautiful- such gratefulness.
One small act of love.  One small gift received.

My husband had told me that morning he had felt God's nudge to do it.  He quickly and quietly obeyed this prompting.  ...and reaped a tender moment with his boy.

The giving of love, the receiving of love.  Did that small act matter yesterday?  Did that count?

We tend to enumerate and count big things in our world, don't we?  There are certain 'big things' that we take note of and admire---changing the world kind of "big" things.  We count and keep track of the biggies.  Money, fame, admiration, beauty, service, and "likes" all are important if they are BIG.  Numbers.  Growing numbers.  If they can be counted or named.  Seen.

But, what if...

What if it really is just the small and mundane things that matter?

Are we all sold a bill of goods in the idea that we have to all do something "big" and significant?  How often have I heard a call to "change the world!" (the whole world, really!?) or, as a child, the mantra "you could even be President!"  Big things.  Presidential things.  Important things.

What if its just simply about the day-to-day, every day things of life... the cooking dinner, talking to a friend, driving to work, answering email,  'hello' to the shop attendant, praying, reading, exercising, cleaning the kitchen, sweeping a back porch...  these every day life realities--- what if they are truly the highest moments- ripe with the most significance?

I am reading a book right now that is stirring in me and prompting such profound discontent.  The book is titled and propagated as a book on contemplation, prayer, and journeying with God.  I read the author's continual reminders of all the 'big' things she has done and is doing because of, or alongside, her contemplation and prayer.  Almost as if prayer leads to doing great things.  Sprinkled and spread within the nooks and crannies of her writing are the assertion of work-with-impact in significant places.

What if prayer doesn't lead to great things... what if prayer is a great thing?

My small life, in a very small place,... my one-person-at-a-time, one moment-at-a-time life...  has been screaming at me as I read--- voices accusing me of laziness, not-enoughness, and nothingness.  Does it matter that I spent time in prayer today---praying for one small person in a small place?  Is that work of significance?  This critical voice tells me that my small life is less than.  What if that voice is lying to me?  What if...?

What if...

Twice this week I happened upon the story of Noah in Genesis.  At first glance, I felt the tug of this "huge" thing that Noah did.  Right?  It felt like an affirmation and nod to the accusations I have been feeling.  Noah had a huge impact!  He saved humanity from extinction, for goodness sake!  Or did he?

As I have been digging in and reading further, another thought has occurred to me---another Voice.

What did Noah actually do?  God saw the future.  God spoke.  God brought the animals.  God closed the door.  God brought the rain and sustained the little boat above the waves.  Really, when it comes down to it...Noah just built a boat.

He built a boat.

He picked up a hammer and some nails...  and made a really large boat.  That is actually what he did.

People build boats every day.  Right?  Johnny Cash wrote some songs and sung them.  Stephen King put some words on a screen.  And, Monet took some color and splashed it about---beautifully---on a canvas, or two.  But, actually, Cash, King, Monet and Noah really just lived their everyday life... eating, drinking, sleeping, cleaning, and living lives.  For better or worse, they danced their dance.  Just like you and me.

Color on a page.  Words on a screen.  Songs on an instrument.  A nail and a hammer.

With this thinking in mind, a new phrase sits with me now when I think about Noah's story. There is a profound and huge statement in Genesis 6:22... "Noah did precisely everything the Lord commanded him to do".

There it is!  That's it, right?!

My husband, yesterday, felt God's whisper to fold laundry...  and he obeyed.  If writing Scripture today, would God inspire the words, "And Dave did precisely everything the Lord commanded him to do."

Oh, how I long for this to be true of me!

The "whatever you do, whatever you eat or drink, do it all to the glory of God"(1 Corinthians 10:31) and "whatever you do, word or deed, do it all in the name of Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father" (Colossians 3:17)

What if I was like Noah... I go about my day, listening to God's command and doing "exactly what God commanded". What if I pick up my hammer and nails and build a boat?  What if my task today is to pray?  What if He nudges me to worship?  What if my folding laundry life is the big thing for today... the obedient, worshipful, honoring thing that God would have me do.

What is the look on God's face when we obey and actually do what He wants, I wonder?  I would guess its profoundly beautiful and priceless.

Creativity Unleashed and the Battle Rages

In an effort to incorporate and 'lean into' a bit more fun in my life, I began watercolor painting in June.  I am enjoying the process and have been painting frequently--- in some cases even losing track of time (which never happens in my life!).

On a side note, that is a definition of 'fun' I once heard.  "Fun is when you are doing something and loose track of time".  According to this definition, I never have fun and my husband is absolutely always having fun!!  Which may or may not be true.

Joking aside, I am indeed having fun!  But, I can honestly say that this fun has had it's challenges and the enjoyment is often under siege.  Let me explain.

I don't think I am alone when it comes to a perfectionistic tendency.  I know that the critical voices, and the judgmental reality and struggle, come alongside any type of creativity.  I have yet to meet one author, one visual artist, dancer, singer, or musician that hasn't had their own battle.  The fierce fight with thoughts of all sorts...'didn't hit that note','missed that step', 'could be a bit more profound', 'doesn't look quite right'...   Judgment seems pretty constant when trying to create.

These negative voices have been loud and intense at times.  Just to be clear, by and large, the 'voices' I am talking about are almost always and exclusively in my head.  ...the inner critic, some call it.  The imagined judgment.  Or, the very real criticism that Stephanie has of Stephanie's work.  She can be really, really mean.

The other day I tore up, ripped in half, a piece of art I had been working on for a week.  I was fed up with the painting and threw it away.  When I told my son, he said (with this tongue firmly in his cheek) "Mom, are you going to cut off your ear any time soon?" (think:  Van Gogh)  No, son... I am not!  I laughed at his words and appreciated his reference.  But, here's the deal.  Creativity can be really hard.  Why am I so mean to myself?

It wasn't long ago--- even a few years ago---that I was in adamant, verbal denial of my creative abilities, at all.  "I am not a creative person", I would say to my husband.  He disagreed just as adamantly as I denied the fact.  I finally understand that every human being, being created in the likeness of our Father, is 'creative' by nature.  We create all the time, just as He creates all the time.  Call it cooking, baking, email, organization...  Call it what you like, we---as beings---create.  We are made to create beautiful, wonderful, and new things every single day.

Anyway, so... yes, I am creative.  So are you.  But, unlike God--- I create imperfectly.  And, there lies the rub.  I have been wrestling within this battle, indeed, as I paint, or write, or speak... sometime even when I cook!

Is my Father judging my picture?  Is He pointing out the flaws in the brush strokes or angle?  No!  By no means!  We, ourselves, are better parents than that, right?  What do we do when our children bring us their art work? We oooo and we ahhh and we enjoy the beauty they create--- pasting it to our refrigerators and posting it to our walls!

Why?  Why are we so mean to ourselves?  I know I am not alone.

Yesterday another friend voiced her creative struggle.  With deep frustration she blurted out, "But... I keep thinking... what is the point?  Why am I even doing this?  What does it produce?"

She vocalized a second problem and battlefield within creativity:  pragmatism.

Second to perfectionism is the issue of pragmatism.  Ah... the modern idea that everything has to be useful or practical.  And, if I am anything, I am practical--- practical to a fault.

My watercolor paintings have very little (if any) use.  Okay, yes,... to ease this discomfort, I have made a few birthday cards.  That's practical!  But, really, I now own a pile---ever deepening pile--- of 'useless' paintings.  Sunsets, buildings, landscapes, flowers.  Why?  For what purpose?

Oh the battle rages!

Immediately when she said those words in frustration, I understood.  I deeply understood.  But, on the heels of the understanding was---literally--- a picture of a bright flower in a field of wild flowers, followed by the image of a giraffe.  A flower and a giraffe.  That's what came to mind.  Flower... bright and beautiful.  Here today and gone tomorrow.  Why?  What purpose is that splash of color?  And, a giraffe...  why?  So creative and so weird and ...fun and bold and bright.  Beautiful.  Why?

So, as the creation battle continues to rage, I will press in and lean into the fun.  I will make color on page... I tell myself.  I am creative, just like my God.  He splashes color on a page every single day.  So can I.

I will paint the weird, fun, bold and bright.  And, like a child... I can do this for no "purpose" and my Father can enjoy it, in all it's imperfection.

As a beluga whale was made to swim.  I was made to create.  So, create I must!  And, maybe, just maybe I will have fun and loose track of time.

Today. Sit down and eat.

It just jumped out at me.  She said it, really, just in passing.  Smack dab in the middle of another story she said it.  And, in that moment, it was as if from the computer Skype screen it jumped out and snatched my heart.  

There are those moments.  They are often small, really.  Small, yes, but not insignificant. I think they are profound moments to be alert to---watch for and be awake.  

It was just in passing.  It rolled off her tongue.  What is He inviting you to today?  she said.  

What. ... His. ...Invitation.  ...You. ...Today.  

Today.  Now.  

Recently a few friends have shared with me the pain and suffering of the dark, grey hues of an unclear future.  These friends look ahead and don't know what to do.  All in remarkably different situations and circumstances. All are uneasy, in the least.   Some are truly panicked. All deeply afraid and even angry.  What was/is God doing?  What is coming?  What am I supposed to do?  I don't know what to do?  It makes no sense.  There is no path forward.  I have heard these questions and statements spoken over and over again.  I have been troubled with them, holding their pain, and praying for each one.  Today, I was reminded me that in each case the worries are about tomorrow---all about the future. 

The future.  Not today.  

Psychological studies say that we spend at least 75% of our time thinking about the future--- be it next week, next month, or ten years from now.  And, other statistical analytical studies show that 95% of what we think about (that 75 % of the time) never comes true... or never even shows up as a reality.  

Tomorrow.   ...or even tomorrow's tomorrow!  

What about the now, Stephanie? What is He inviting you to today? 

The question 'what am I supposed to do?'  ...when asked about the now... is usually, and generally, not that difficult.  What am I supposed to do now?  Well... now ...I need to take a shower, or clean this pile of laundry, or answer that email, or make some dinner, or go to bed.  

It is the future that trips us up.  It is the future that can trip me up.  What is around the corner?  What do I need to prepare myself for?  Or, what will happen if...?  or What am I supposed to do?  

I am struck that regardless of where I am on the journey; whether in the dark valley or the green pastures (Psalm 23), it is very clear what I am supposed to do in the now.   God tells me.  If it's the valley... I am to sit and feast at the table.  Sit down, eat and receive.  

His Word.  His Presence.  God's very self is the food I need as I 'walk' in the valley of the shadow of death.  Let Him pour over me His oil, Himself.   This is the invitation for today... in this dark valley. 

If I find myself in the green pastures...  what am I to do?  Lie down.  Follow.  Rest.  Enjoy.  Be refreshed.  Again, pretty clear what I am to do today.  

As over simplistic, over used, misused, and even trite as it may sound or feel as I type these words on a page: "Do not worry about tomorrow" ... these words feel utterly essential for my heart today.  

For my friends.  For me.

I want to look for His invitation to sit down and eat.  Today.  Or, to wade in the water, rest and lie down.  Can I just get on with it and fix dinner, or write that email, or fold that laundry while feasting on Him?  Can I simply do what I need to do today, and let His love and goodness follow and surround me?  

Lord, what do You have for me today?  

Time Travel

"You would think you'd get used to it...right?!" 

Yes, yes... one would think! 

It was a passing comment in response to my exclamation and exasperation about the time travel and jet lag that was plaguing me. 

I have been officially traveling, as a living, for nearly 25 years.  One might think I would get used to it.  But, I haven't. 

I have indeed become better acquainted with the challenges.  I have gotten much better at managing the sleepless nights, the hours on an airplane, and the dizzy feeling and nausea that I experience for days after arriving in a new time zone.  But, the truth is... I was not made to rush from one world to another.  It just feels unnatural. 

It feels jarring.  Jerking.  Shocking, in the least. 

Like Lucy stepping through C.S. Lewis' wardrobe, I feel the disruption intensely when I feel the new ground under my feet.  I get confused.  I get utterly confused--- in my soul--- as I step into the new world. 

I have felt confused for days now   Out of step.  Out of whack.  Where am I?  Was I actually in Asia, just three days ago? 

Age old struggles rear their ugly head and I feel like I don't quite know how to act, to think, or sometimes even... to pray. 

I told someone yesterday that "my soul has yet to catch up with my body".  (I stole that phrase ages ago from a preacher who travels!)  My body is here.  My physical actions are well rehearsed and accurate.  But, I just don't 'feel' here.  It's like Stephanie hasn't quite arrived in this new land. 

And, I feel this most every time I travel. 

No, I am not used to it.

Driving in the car yesterday, I was listening to a favorite song.  As the words washed over me and my mouth moved with the lyrics... there was a single moment in time where I started to "feel" the words of the song.  Tears welled on the edge of my heart and my eyes.  Almost like my 'self' started to finally engage.  In that moment, I had the funny, passing thought... 

"Oh!  There you are!"  

Defrosting.  Awakening.  Catching up...

I think today I finally feel a bit more here.  Able to know again how to act, to think... and, this morning, knowing again how to pray. 

I don't think we are made to time travel.  The stretching of myself between lands, peoples, cultures, time zones, and such distance feels unnatural.  ...almost like I was created for one garden.  One beautiful garden.

You will commonly hear me say to my daughter... who lives 5,332 miles away from me (not that I've counted...ha!)  "We were supposed to live in tents next door to each other...  always". 

I don't know. 

But, I do know that I am certainly not used to it...  I also know that, in time, my soul will catch up with my body.

Never Runs Dry

I needed more again today...  Unedited and re-posted from 2011. 

Will it run out?  my heart wondered, in the quietness of the morning.

Today I came to my Heavenly Father with a burden of sin.  Conviction of my sin weighed heavy on my soul.
  
Will your mercy and your forgiveness have a limit?  Will it run out?  

I know the Biblical, Theological, head-truth answer to my heart's question:  Of course not!!  Never!

When it says His love as unfailing in Scripture, does it mean anything less than un-failing?  When it says eternal, can it mean less than eternal?  When it speaks of His faithfulness being as high or long as the heavens?  Or, His love being as deep as the oceans?

When the Word of God tells me that God's mercies are new every morning, could He possibly be out of fresh mercy for today?  Could it be that He might finally say, 'Nope, not this morning, I am afraid.

Of course not! ...No!  Never!

His love.

His grace.

His mercy.

Each unfailing.  All boundless, unconditional, faithful and steadfast.  Always enduring and eternal.  Always new and freshly offered.  This, this!, is the truth of the matter...

And yet my heart wondered this morning, When will your grace to me run out?  When will you be fed-up with my wandering heart?  When will it be the "last straw"?

In the very moment of wondering, my Father answered this morning with a in-my-face real life example.

Here, let me show you...  He whispered.

As I was praying and seeking and wondering, right then!, my son disobeyed me.  Again.  Same disobedience.  How many times have we talked about this?  How many times have I reprimanded him and corrected his behavior.  He was doing it again... I could hear him in the other room.  Again.

Does your love and grace run out for your son?  my kind Father whispered into my aching, sinful heart.
  
Are you done with him, your sweet boy?  Is this the last straw?  You done loving him, Stephanie?  
  
No, Lord!  May it never be!!  my heart welled up with deep truth and emotion...  Of course not!! Never!!  
  
And He reminds me of this beautiful, theological, Biblical truth ...right in my today-home.

"If you then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask." (Matthew 7:11)

photo source

Oh! How He surprises me with His eternal, everlasting, ever reaching love!!  Oh how He loves us!!  Oh how gracious our gentle, kind and loving Father is!!  I am struck a new today...  Fresh grace.  Fresh mercy.  Fresh love. ....that will never run out.  

"I know not a word which can express the surprise and wonder our souls ought to feel at God's goodness to us. Our hearts playing the harlot; our lives far from perfect; our faith, almost blown out; our unbelief often prevailing; our pride lifting up its accursed head; our patience a poor sickly plant, almost nipped by one night's frost; our courage little better than cowardice; our love lukewarmness; are ardor but as ice -- oh, my dear brethren!... we should indeed be surprised that the sun of divine grace should continue so perpetually to shine upon us, and that the abundance of heaven's mercy should be revealed in us." 

- Charles Spurgeon

Unedited and re-posted from 2011. 

Still Walking the Long Road

unedited re-post from 2016:  "A Long Journey"

Life is a long, long journey. 

Like destinations, there are many lessons that I wish I could just check off my list... and say I "have learned" this!  Been there.  Done that.

While certainly there have been lessons learned; I seem to circle back to 'same-old' places over and over again.

But, the one lesson that seems to be a reoccurring and reoccurring theme in my life is the lesson of "loved". I have both known it and not known it for many, many years.  For, "knowing" and surrendering-to-it are two very different things.

When I began this blog 8 years ago this very theme is clear in much of my writing---I wrote on my "Why Koodaigirl" page:  "I desire to live as loved".  This is still my same desire; and it only grows stronger, deeper, and more profound.  More hungry.

In the journey, though, along with the difficulties and struggles, we also have moments of great victory.  I have been seeing this victory lately in my life.  I can't really say when it began exactly; before time, it feels.  For God has been speaking to me of His love my whole Christian life.  All I really remember from my salvation day (at age 15) was a message about love.  I don't know what else Larry said that day... but, he said something very significant about the love of God.  That day I walked through the door of "loved" and have been journeying inward ever since.

These last months something significant has shifted.  I not only deeply believe, with all my mind, that God loves me (a profound gift He gave me about 10 years back); I now feelHis love "poured out in my heart" (Romans 5:5) on a very regular basis.  Where I have felt it here and there for years, I am "knowing" this abiding love.  I am experiencing His love filling me.  This is no small miracle.  My physical healing 15 years ago was "nothing" in comparison to this battle won!

This knowing of God's love... to my mind AND to my heart is a great gift.  A gift I believe He wants to give all His children.

I have to admit it took many pleas from my wooing Lord.  He has used songs multiple time (the funniest was the 80's classic, "I can't make you love me.")  He has used dreams, people, gifts, blessings, and suffering.  And, He has many, many times used His Word.  "Do not harden your heart" was the most recent Biblical phrase that led me to repent of my hardening to His love and His rest---it led me to lean-in and open my hands.  (Why I harden my heart is another conversation to be shared another time!)

After spending the day with Him yesterday and enjoying this love---sitting with it, working with it, eating with it--- I lay in bed last night and had a memory flood into my mind.  It was of our first trip to visit Wales 7 years ago.  When I walked into the house we currently live in there was a sign:  "Loved".  Like a message from His Spirit to my soul, I knew then that it was for me.  He was, yet again, speaking love over me.

So, last night after seeing this memory, I said to the Lord, "Wow!  It has taken 7 years for me to be won over to this amazing love! Wow...You have had to work for me for 7 years like Jacob, Lord!"  

Instantly, I heard in my spirit, something akin to "Longer..."  

Longer, Stephanie.  

Yes, Lord, much longer.  Like Rachel.  I am Your Rachel!!  You worked for over 14 years for me to accept and receive Your love.  

I fell asleep relishing in the fact that I am Jesus' Rachel.  What a blessed thought.

In the morning, I woke remembering it with a smile.  I am the Lord's Rachel.  His bride.   His beloved.

But, even as I write this... right now...the word I heard last night still lingers and speaks.  Longer...  

I have worked longer for you...

"For He chose us in Him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight... in love..." (Ephesians 1:4)

A very, very long journey for God indeed. 

unedited re-post from 2016:  "A Long Journey"

Right way and right time

In the early hours of the morning I was awaken after a dream.  It was a deeply sad dream.  I was troubled.  I could feel the fear lingering in my heart.

Laying in bed, in prayer... I decided to get up.  I would re-set my alarm to sleep past my normal waking time.  I could go and have my 'God-time' in His Word at 4 am... then allow myself the extra sleep if I could get there again after 5 am.

Needless to say, it was a troubling dream.  Anything that will pull me from my warm bed...into the cold, wet dark of winter; I was feeling it acutely.

Sitting in my 'morning chair' I prayed.  I could feel the silence of the dark around me and I knew that the dark was welling inside, as well.  I didn't feel relief in that moment.  I just felt alone.

So... I spent the first moments of my quiet time in my journal.  I wrote.  And, wrote.  I spilled out the profound sadness that accompanied the dream.  This dream happened to be a repeat of a theme, as of late.  I have seen this dream before... or at least I have seen its sort.

A theme of worries and fears about the future.  I have been having dreams of sadness draping my world and hard roads which lay ahead.  Oh... the cold and dark of the early morning hours.

After spilling my mind and my heart out on paper... I still felt a bit lost.  Where now, Lord? 

I sensed and felt to simply pick up where I left off yesterday... in my daily reading through of Isaiah.  Isaiah 30 is where I landed.

In the dark of this early morning, my eyes began to read and read and read... Slowly, prayerfully I read; all the while waiting and expecting the living Word to do what it so often does--- jump right off the page and touch me.  I wasn't disappointed.

After a few moments, from the pages, my soul saw and heard "Yahweh is a God of justice*.  Blessedly happy are all who wait expectantly for him" (Isaiah 30:18)

The word justice... in this version.. had an asterisk next to it and the explanation said:

"This word justice is the very complex and profound Hebrew word:  mishpat.  In this context it means 'one who knows how to make right decisions at just the right time'.

...to make right decisions.  just at the right time.  Always true.  Always authoritatively correct.  Always timely.  Just the right time.

This was exactly what my soul needed this morning.  With the Words, I could feel my heart resting and my mind slowing to the pace of Truth.

My God... this Yahweh, who I love with all my heart, mind and strength... is a God who is good, righteous, loving, and holy.  He has always been.  He will always be.  It is HE that makes these decisions.  Just at the right time.

These heavy premonitions and worries that lurk at the edge of my future... these sad things that my soul seems determined to process--- I can lay them down at His feet.  I can place them in His hands. I can wait expectantly on Him---receiving my inheritance of peace and 'blessed happiness'.  I can know that He does all things well.

I need never worry.  I need never be afraid of tomorrow.  I can trust Him to do just the right thing in/with my life---at just the exact right time.

As an end to my early morning journal ramblings, I wrote the verse down.  I circled it.  And shutting the book, I quietly made my way upstairs and slipped back into bed.  For a very few short moments, lying in the dark of the 5 am...  I whispered a prayer and my soul was at rest once again.  ...Falling asleep with the thought,  My God is the God of mishpat!

My Advent

There are days when it all feels very heavy and dark.  The world.  The news.  The sadness.

But, today, I awoke with a sadness that was almost oppressive.  Sadness seemed to hang around my neck as I rose from bed.  It pulled me down and filled my chest as I sipped my coffee.  Grief sat in my throat as I ate and weighed heavy as I walked to church.  As worship began, the tears hung heavy in my eyes...  slow, big, fat, hot tears.

Heavy, dark sadness.

I was sad... deeply saddened by the state of my heart.

Simply put, in my life, there is a certain way of thinking and seeing that is just wrong.  Profoundly wrong.  I know it is wrong; and yet, I still think the crooked thoughts and see with these darkened eyes.  There seems to be nothing I can do to change it.   Years, my heart cries.  Years and years I have seen this way and battled against it.   Years, Lord!  I cry out...longing for this to be changed.

I even know why I might naturally think this way...   I am aware.  I know the history--- I understand the where it came from.  God has shown me.   And, that has helped.   Awareness is definitely good.

But, still.  Still, I can't shift it.  I can't seem to change or fix the pattern.  My friend refers to these places as tectonic plates in our souls.  I seriously need an big 'ol 8.0 to shake these set ways of seeing.  Where can I go and what can I do?

It was one moment in time...

One swift moment.  This morning, in the midst of this heavy grief over my sin...

One young man reading one well-known passage in Scripture. 

A phrase.  A line from the text.  The Word jumped out of his teenage mouth into my dark heart and there was instantaneous light.  I felt it.  One beautiful moment...   Truth and light.

I quickly found the passage to read it again.  I couldn't take my eyes off it!  I read and read.  As I read the Word, I could literally feel the surge of hope.  I could feel the light swelling and pushing out the sadness.

"Every valley shall be raised up.  Every hill made low.  The rough ground shall become level and the rugged places a plain." (Isaiah 40:4)

Rugged and rough places.  Dark valleys...

In my minds eye I could see the rough and rugged reality of my soul--- these wrong ways of thinking and the dark valleys where my eyes could not see rightly.

My soul.  Rough.  Rugged.  Thorny and full of stones.

As if I could hear the Spirit of the Lord this morning saying over me, "Make a straight path for our God!" (Isaiah 40:3)  He commands it.  The Lord wills it.  Over me, He speaks...  I will make it level!  

In me.  In and over these rough places.  In me... a straight path.  Level ground.  A green plain.  A straight pathway for the glory of the Lord.

This is the gospel.  This is what Jesus has done for me.  This is what Jesus is doing in me...   The now and the 'not yet'.  He has shifted.  He will shift.  And, He continues to shift the rocks and make way for His way in and through me.  I have seen it.  I will continue to see it.

Light shone into my darkness this morning.  This morning, I, once again, saw a great light.  The darkness will not overcome it.  He is making all things new.  This will shift.  This will change.

There are days when it all feels very heavy.  Yes.

Today, I will wait.  I will hope and I will watch for the Lord.  With joy, now, hovering over my head and light filling out the spaces of my heart---I wait.

My advent. 

"And then, imperceptibly, it was death and winter that yielded, and life and spring stood at the door and beckoned." ~ Elizabeth Goudge, Towers in the Midst

A Lil' Sentence Does a Whole Lot of Good

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It didn't feel inappropriate or untoward.

It did surprise me, though.  It caught me off guard.

An older man, slightly humped and bald with wisps of grey hair around his ears walked passed me... maybe we was nearing 80 years old?

When we passed on the sidewalk, I smiled at him.  His face immediately lit up---bright and beautiful--- he seemed to grow younger by 20 years.  As he looked up he immediately said, "Well, you are the prettiest thing I have seen today!"

I literally felt the shock of his words and quickly replied, "Thank you, you are very sweet!"  Then we went about our day...  Me moving forward, the gentleman walking the other way.

Our paths crossed for only a moment.

In the first moments after we passed I prayerfully wondered if his comment was inappropriate.  In our current world---which is over-sensual and over-sexualized; with such an emphasis placed on outward appearance---was this wrong for him to say such a thing to a stranger?   I wasn't sure.

But, a few steps further down the road and I could literally feel myself walking taller and with more confidence.  I felt younger, too.  A bit of the child in me seemed touched and maybe even dancing.  The strength and energy in my stride caught my attention.  How had one little sentence brought such a significant subconscious response from my heart, my body... my very being?

It is hard to estimate and count what this little, kind compliment did for my soul.

I kept prayerfully wondering... watching my thoughts with curiosity...  A few steps further down my path, I pondered if this was my ugly-sided vanity rearing it's head.   Could be.  But, this felt different.  This felt purer.  This felt sweet.  Who can know their own heart, truly?  (Jeremiah 17:9)  Only God knows.

As I prayed, though, and walked a few steps further... I had a simple thought:  Words are powerful.

This man crossed my path for one very short moment.  And, his words had power.  They impacted me before I could 'think'.  His words had taken affect before my conscious mind was even aware.  My response to his sentence was something to 'look back on' and wonder about.  His words had a distinctly positive and uplifting impact.   At least, it felt positive.

What might my words do today?  What might I say to my husband, my son or my daughter?  What might I say to my neighbor or the stranger at the store?  Can I use my mouth to bring about blessing!?  Can I lift someone's head and help them to walk just a little bit taller?

It didn't cost that man anything to compliment me.  In fact, I would venture, from the look on his face, that it befitted his soul to offer me that rose.  He moved onward a bit taller, too. 

Lord, use me to bolster and to bless!  Father, help my mouth... all I say...to be used to raise up and to lift.  Fill me with Your Spirit, Your love and Your thoughts about this beautiful world and the beauty that fills each face.  "For out of the same mouths come blessing and cursing, brothers... it should not be!" (James 3:10)

Wanting to Write Faith

I am so naturally inclined to fix things...

Or.  Should I say I am naturally inclined to try to fix things? Or... even more accurately, I desperately want things to be fixed.  And, by things---I guess I should say people.

Yep.  People.  I want to fix people.  

I am so naturally inclined to want to try to fix people.  Myself, very much included.

A friend recently reminded me that people---any person--- "Is not a problem to be fixed".  People are not a problem.  People are a beautiful, created soul.  Each person I interact with is a unique soul to be loved, heard, seen, and encouraged.   NOT a problem to be fixed. 

Oh how I need to remember this...  

Why do I so want to fix the world, others, and very-especially myself?  

If, indeed, Jesus is the author of faith and the finisher/perfecter of faith (Hebrews 12:2).  Then, at no point in any person's journey, is it for me to try to fix and/ or correct their faith.  I can't create faith---I can't author it.  And, I certainly can't perfect faith.  The job of  the Almighty Author is to write faith and then bring each faith story to completion. 

I just get to read.  I get to love the story... or not.  I get to engage my heart, 'get really into' the book, and open up to what I see in the story being written.

People are as different as any two books!  

My job is to read the "stories" God is writing and bringing along my path...

I can interact with them, engage my heart in the story I am reading.  I can certainly cheer for the Hero of the story, applaud the good I see, and---like any good book--- profoundly long for the lovely outcome and conclusion the Author will bring about!   I can really, really want a happy ending.  

But, plain and simple: I am not the Author of Life.  I am not the Author of faith...mine or yours.  

Am I just talking to myself here?  

Because, I am so naturally inclined to fix things...  

Drink Deep

After living in Britain for nearly ten years, I understand why they always talk about the weather.  In fact, I now find myself doing the very same thing.  There are many reasons... but, inconsistency and the unexpected are first and foremost.  Who really knows what today will bring?  Absolutely no weather app helps out here in my village.  (We have tried them all!)

We have all been shocked and surprised by this current 'Mediterranean Summer'.  Generally speaking, Wales is not a warm climate in any regards.  I am fond of saying that, living in this land, I have been bone-cold for 9 years straight!!  The wet, chilling cold (and dark) has at times been a small trial for this California-girl’s body.  But, recently, we have had the most amazing sun, warm days, dry and blues skies.  I have actually felt uncomfortably hot (which is absolutely wonderful!) and even have a slight sunburn from sitting way too long outside. 

But, with this dry warmth has come a brand new problem.  My grass is dying and my flowers... well, they look very, very sad.  To make myself clear, I have NEVER once had to water my lawn or my flowers.  Never.  It is that wet---pretty much all the time.  But, with this new, lovey 'Summer-vibe' comes a new, and harsh reality:  plants and green, living things need water! 

I have a large, beautifully vibrant hanging basket at my front door filled with summer flowers.  I have been quite meticulous in my attempts to keep it alive and well. Yesterday, I watered and tended it.  This morning it looked so very sad!  Drooping.  Dying.  Desperate.  Quite sad, really, ...as if only one day without water and all it's life had been slipping away.  As I watered it, I could literally see it revive in front of my eyes.  It was quite remarkable, actually.  As it drank, it seemed to lift it's head very slowly and cry out with a relieved sigh, Thank you!--- looking at me with a satisfied smile.   (Okay... no, my plant didn't actually talk or smile at me...)  But, the revival of life was real, none-the-less!  

Indeed, living things survive on water.  

Awaking today in the morning's cool air and heading out to the garden to water... I felt a nudge and sweet whisper.  Water yourself, Stephanie

Water yourself.

We, too, live in a dry and weary land (Psalm 63:1).  What must we look like day to day when we forget to drink from God?  We need---truly and profoundly need---to sustain ourselves and water ourselves with His Presence, worship, and His Word.  If not, we also easily become droopy.  Dying.  Desperate.  Sad, really. 

Scripture refers to God multiple times as the living water.  (Jeremiah 2:13) He is a living drink without and within!  We must drink deeply....daily... throughout each and every day! 

Lord, I will water myself today.  Thank you for being my sustenance.   I will sit and linger a bit longer---drinking in His love, His Truth and His strength.  For "His love is better than life itself" (Psalm 63) 

Okay, God... let's have some FUN

A few months ago, as I was being prayed for, a brother felt he heard God whisper the word Fun into his heart.  After the prayer time, he approached me and said he felt God wanted me to have more fun in my life---especially in this season of transition with my children launching into the world and out of my nest.  He then asked me a pointed question, "What is fun for you?"

I was dumbstruck.  The feeling of utter confusion must have wafted across my face... because he laughed out loud.  "Ah!" he said, "That is probably where you need to start!"

I have been a wife for nearly 25 years and a mother for 20 years.   Almost half my life I have had the privilege of nurturing and raising two amazing children.  I have worked part time from home and we chose to home educate, as well; and so... my time has been very much all about them.  I truly don't regret this in any way, shape, or form.  I feel blessed by this truth.  But, when it comes to fun for me... well, ...I just didn't have an answer.  The question actually felt strange in my ear and hard for my heart to comprehend.  I know what is fun for my husband.  I know what is fun for my son and my daughter.

In all honesty, I am not sure I could have answered this question even 25 years ago.  'Fun' doesn't come naturally to me... I don't 'do' 'fun for me'.  Or at least, that is how it felt.

I began to pray.  What IS fun for me, Lord? Lord, help me know myself.

My 'go-to' solution to any dilemma is to pray and then read.  When in doubt, I say, read a book!  On the heels of this prayer time, a friend 'just so happened' to send me a book about the God-given creativity in every human being, The Soul Tells a Story by Vanita Hampton Wright.  I wondered if creativity and fun went together?  So... why not... I picked it up and gave it a go.  Maybe God would begin to answer my question in this way...

For years, I have had a very regular debate going with my husband.  "I am not a creative person" was my stance.  We had the--- 'yes, you are'... 'no, I'm not'--- going for years.  From the beginning, Ms. Wright suggests that creativity lives in each and every of us;  innate in us, creativity is like one fingerprint of God's design as 'made in His image'.  He created.  He creates still.  We also create.  Wright does a fabulous job explaining that creativity is so uniquely colored and varied with each individual...and so, I guess, sometimes it just isn't noted.  Or, understood and labeled as "creativity".

Or, in fact, it just gets lost for some of us.  In the first chapters, she offers a set of exercises which explore what was 'fun' for you as a child.  Like venturing back memory lane, you are searching for what was in you naturally... maybe what got hid away, or set aside.  What did you do as a child that you enjoyed?  What made you happy?  What did you do for fun?  For me, this question alone took quite a bit of time, quiet, prayer, and memory-journeying to find some answers.

I now believe with all my heart that I am indeed creative.  (My husband will be pleased with this!)  And, I have slowly ventured into the effort of 'doing' more fun things in my life.  Opening up.  Pressing in.  Things I used to do...?  Things that I have always wanted to do... or wondered about?  Slowly.  One thing at a time.

My newest venture has been into the realm of watercolor painting.  The ever-present practical-Stephanie assumed (wrongly, as it turned out)... that this was a cheap hobby.  So, I started here.

Today, I boldly---and it does take significant courage, mind you--- I share (below) a few of my first attempts to have creative fun in my life.  I figure, for the faithful few of you that read these posts, you hear the ins-and-outs of many vulnerabilities and very often the weaknesses in my life.  So, why not... I'll share this vulnerable place of creativity and strength, too.    And, I will assure you... I am really enjoying it!

...having a little bit of fun.  Thank you, God, for whispering on my behalf.  

To Know

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Each and every day there are things I just don't understand.

I like to understand.  I like to know.  This morning, I was struck with the reality that I don't hold ambiguity very well.  Many of us don't.

I remember taking a personality test a few years back that proved that my ability to tolerate ambiguity was quite low... or underdeveloped.  I didn't really need a test to show this.  I know it well.  Each and every day.

Yesterday we had some hard and sad news.  The news included certain pain.  But, also much ambiguity.  ...as does most difficult news. 

If I am honest, in my line of work, we have hard and sad news quite regularly.  But, don't we all?  I mean, really!?  Don't we all.  Each and every day.

I felt like yesterday's news hung around my neck like a dark, wet blanket.  Heavy.  Hard to carry.  How many times did I pray... Lord, I am just sad. Father, I feel so very sad.  
All day long, questions filled my mind...  Why?  Why, Lord?  What are You up to, here?  What are You doing? What should I do?   

I want to know the answer.  I like to know.

This morning I had a lovely moment of fleeting light and a lift to the heaviness of the damp, sad news.  Psalm 90 reminded me,

"Lord, You have been our dwelling place from generation to generation.  Before You made the mountains and brought forth the earth, from everlasting to everlasting You are God"  (Psalm 90:1,2)

As these words were read, I could feel the lift and the peace swell deep within my heart.

He is.  And, He knows.

Stephanie, I know.  

Is that enough?  Today, yes, it is enough.   God isn't ambiguous.  He, Himself, is firm, certain, clear, and definite.  He has always been.  He will always be.  From always and for always...  and He knows.

You know, Lord.  

Solid One, my rock.  You are the place I live.  You are my home, my refuge, my hiding place. You are my dwelling place.   

Instructed Day after Day

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I love education.  I love learning.  I really do.

Give me a few quiet moments in my day, and you will find me watching a Ted Talk, reading a book, or listening to a pod cast on the Enneagram or the topic of brain science.  I just can't get enough.  Every time I scroll past one of those MasterClass advertisements online, I just want to take the class.  I wish it wasn't so expensive---I would totally sign up!  I don't care what the topic---although to be fair some are more intriguing than others to me---but, I just want to watch and learn.

I really love learning.

I have always said, I could happily be a full-time student.  ...Sitting in class, listening to lectures, reading books, writing and discussing interesting topics.  I was born a student.

So... it struck me this morning as I was reading Psalm 19:1-2:

The heavens declare the glory of God;
    the skies proclaim the work of his hands.
Day after day they pour forth speech;
    night after night they reveal knowledge.

It struck me as I studied the Hebrew words here in this text.  I have a teacher who is always speaking, always declaring and recounting.  I have an instructor available to me day after day who will reveal to me knowledge and wisdom.  I do indeed sit in a classroom night after night.

What do the heavens teach and declare?  What do the skies proclaim and recount?
What is God's creation speaking forth to me---every single moment of each day?  

I can learn so much from God's handiwork, His creation.  It speaks.  It tells and teaches me about Him that made it... it instructs me of His glory.  

Lift your eyes, Stephanie.

May I continue to learn to sit up, take notice, listen to this lecture, read it, take notes and discuss this all important topic!

God Laughs

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I think God laughed at me.

I am pretty sure of it, actually.  I can't say I heard audible laughter---just something deep and profound---

... seriously, I am pretty sure God had a good ol' chuckle.

There has been an issue that has tormented me my whole life long... since the earliest of years in my life.  This issue, I have written on this blog numerous times, can only be summed up in two words:  gluttony and vanity.  Big, ugly words, right?

Seasons of this struggle have been harder than others, to be sure.  Through the years, at times, I have felt lovely green pastures of freedom and rest.  But, recently the valley of this struggle and the temptations have been dark, intense, and stifling.  ...not to sound too dramatic.  Honestly, though, it can be constant and it can be suffocating.

Gluttony for me can be defined as the focus on food...  too much, too little, the right kind, the wrong kind, the taste, and the lust for---

Vanity for me can be defined as the focus on my body shape, type, weight, or being admired for my outward appearance---

Even as I write these things so black and white on the screen, I can feel the heat of shame and the embarrassment rising up my neck.  Bear with me, please.

I just finished an excellent book, It's Not How You Look, It's What You See by Lisa Bevere.  Funnily, it was handed to me by a co-worker who offered it into my hands as a "resource" for others.  Because, of course, I couldn't possibly struggle with such an issue.  Right?  Someone so "seasoned" in my relationship with the Lord.  Ugh... the masks and the assumptions we make about each other!!  Yes, I struggle with this!  And, boy-oh-boy is it a doosy in my heart.  Lord, have mercy.  

In this book Lisa Bevere, deals with this issue head-on and calls it exactly what it is...  idol worship.  Even in my crazy honesty here--- I will easily name it issue.  Today, I call it sin.

Idol worship.  Wow.  My struggle is that I worship a particular body type.  I worship "thin".  I worship a particular weight on the scale.  I worship food and what I think it will feed in me... the taste, the substance, the filling.  It is a terrible cycle.

I am asking God to instruct my heart in this... to write new truth in my life.  With David in Psalm 32:8, I am asking God to "instruct and teach me in the way I should go."

Today, afresh, I repent.  I choose to resist the world's (and my) definitions.  I choose to crush the idol of thin.  I choose to smash the idol of food.  I am done with the fear of fat and the lie that chocolate is what I need/deserve this afternoon.  I am done with my solutions, my plans, my ideas, and my way forward.

For the last six months, I have been counting calories for the first time in my life.  With keen awareness of this sin-reality in my heart, I have never owned a scale and never been on a diet.  Weird, I know, for someone who struggles with this sin.  I just knew these would be destructive for me. 

But, in desperation, six months ago, I started using a phone app to count calories.  Faithfully, I have been eating the "right" amount of calories that would ensure weight loss.  It is just mathematics, right?

According to my app, I should have dropped 15 lbs... 

I haven't lost a single pound.  Not a gram.  Not a single ounce.  (I am weighing myself like a crazy lady at the local pharmacy---due to "no scale rule!")  NOT a single pound.

Friday, I was out and about town and jumped on the scale.  It read the exact same number it always does (yes, I know the scale works!).
Exact.  Same. Number.

Like the punch line of a joke.  There is the number---staring right back at me.  And, I just stood there.   Really!?  When I stepped off the scale this time, I knew that God was laughing... 
I could just hear/feel/sense His big, belly, friendly, love-filled laughter---  Really, Stephanie?  Really...? 

Does that sound cruel?  It really wasn't.  It didn't feel cruel even at the time.  He was laughing at me, with me... all around me.  Another one of His miracles--- His cosmic jokes.  He miraculously kept the weight on.

As I walked home with His laughter in my heart, whispers filled my mind...  Weight is an ugly idol, Stephanie.  You aren't going to loose weight this way.  It isn't going to happen.  So give up the number.  That is not the point.  Let it go.  Can you let it go, Stephanie? 

I could feel beautiful agreement and submission in my heart...  I feel strong and healthy, Lord.  I want to take good care of this tent.  That's all, Lord.  I know that You alone are my hope, my happiness, my fullness, my joy... not these other things.  

Through the following days, I ponder and I pray.  I repent and I sit.  What is the point, Stephanie?  What are you really after?  Why?  I will instruct Your heart in the way You should go.  I will teach You new things.  

It wan't the first time.  I am certain it won't be the last...
But, yep.  God laughed at me. And, I most certainly won't be getting on a scale anytime soon.

Can you change me?

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Do you ever feel absolutely sure you are right about something?

I read somewhere that a true, genuine conversation can only happen if both parties are ready and willing to be changed by each other.  Conversation and dialogue only happen when I sit anticipating my viewpoint will indeed be altered because of this discourse.  Problem is...  what happens when you think you are absolutely right?  Period.  Full stop.

This prideful, closed way of "communication" happens much, much more frequently than genuine conversation.

I used to think it was certain personality types--- mine or my husband (ha!), for instance!---which felt they were "right" or "correct" all the time.  Or, maybe it was family of origin training.  Certainly my family has it in spades!   All I knew was that I struggled and was upset when my viewpoint was challenged or questioned.

The more years I live, I am convinced that this is true about everybody.  Every-single-body struggles when their point of view feels threatened.  Maybe not on all accounts, to be sure; but, just poke around a bit to find that person's topic-of-certainty.  Push it.  Or have a slightly differing slant or question... and you will feel the mechanisms of defense.  (Defenses are many...and they do tend to suit each personality.)

Don't get me wrong, I am a firm, firm believer if absolute Truth.   I believe that God gives us insight into and understanding of His Truth... certainly He has given us a huge leg-up with the gift of Scripture (the unchanging Truth).  We have a great deal of clarity on many areas from God's Word...  "all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God" (Romans 3:23), for example.  Pretty clear.  I can hold this and many other biblical truths securely. But, I also know that my ability to understand God's ways and truth is significantly limited.   So many things I hold true are impacted by Stephanie-ism.  (Definition of "ism": a distinctive practice, a system or philosophy.)  Stephanie-practice.  Stephanie-system.  Stephanie-philosophy.

Just as there are indeed rock-solid, unchanging Truths in Scripture; equally so, there are many 'not so black and white' areas that I am learning to be at peace holding more tentatively in my hands...

...What one thinks about global warming, boarder control, working mothers, or homeschooling.  How one decides to parent a small child or keep a house.  How one interacts with their adult children, their aging parents or their neighbors.  Where and how one chooses to work, to play, or to rest.  What one thinks about exercise and diet. What one does with their time, their money, their energy... for example.  In these areas, I long to have genuine and true conversations with others.  While I believe that God's Word touches and impacts each of these areas... the "certainty" case is not closed or locked.

Can I be changed by another's ideas and their thoughts?  Can you change me?

All these things above, I think about.  And, I certainly have my opinions on each of these issues---as I am guessing you do, as well.  But, can you be changed---even if just slightly?

Yesterday, I had a conversation where I felt 'changed'.  Honestly (and slightly embarrassingly), going into the interaction, I felt very "right" in my discernment and advice.  Our first interaction about the topic did not go very well.  It was a few hours later over coffee, when this friend and I re-visited the dialogue where the thought twigged for me, "A true conversation is one where you are ready to be changed".  In that moment, I prayerfully looked across the table ready to be impacted.

Was it my openness or just the grace of the person talking with me that allowed for the topic to be resurfaced?  ...maybe a bit of both.  But, I distinctly felt a profound "aha" moment while this dear one was explaining her values and view point.  It was a lovely smack to my pride when I realized that I had been looking at the issue from one singular point---a limited way of thinking---truly unknowingly.  Her words and explanation changed me, even if just slightly.  In that moment, I had available to me another way of seeing the issue and her decisions made sense to me in a way that I had been unable to see before.  Our conversation changed me.

As I reflect on this today, I wonder and quiz myself a bit as to how often I do this with God--- let alone other people.  How often do I pray, assume, and walk forward in the "right" way, without a humble, surrendered heart ready to be impacted by my interactions.

Problem is... I generally think I am right.  Period.  Full stop.

Lord Jesus, have mercy on me, a sinner and fallen short of Your glory.  Change me from the inside out.  

Where are You?

There are days when God feels very far away.  Or, maybe I might say my relationship with Him isn't great---isn't close.

In the Kazakh language, when translating the common Biblical phrase "in Christ", the term "tightly bound together with Christ" was used.

We know that this closeness... this depth of relationship is available.  But, sometimes it feels far away---out of reach.

I am realizing that on those days---or in those seasons---in reality, it is me who is very far away.  As trite as it can sound, it is not that God has moved or changed.  It is me who is far away.  And, in truth, I am not 'far away from God'--- He is ever close.  In fact, I am far from me.

In these moments, it isn't that I can't find God.  It is that I can't find myself.

I have been wandering for days and nights recently in the feeling of "far away".  David's Psalms bouncing through my head, "Where are you, O God!? Why are you far from me?  Will you remain distant forever, angry at me forever?"...these words ringing in my ears through the watches of the night, I have been tossed and turned with angst and exhaustion.

Realization hit today, though, as I finally sat long enough to ask the heart question of myself, "Where are you, O Stephanie?"

Where are you...  

God asks that of Adam and Eve those first fitful, painful, disastrous moments in recorded time.

Where are you, O Stephanie?  

Given time, pen and paper, a bit of quiet, and a reluctantly-willing heart, I sat and asked myself the very question that God asked Adam.

The answer wasn't pretty.  I, too, was hiding.  Hiding in shame.  Angry at myself for sin and choices to run away.  I was tired.  I was sad... profoundly sad. Under the anger sat frustration, embarrassment, worry, fear, hurt, insecurity, sadness, judgment, and pain.

While this may sound over-dramatic, I truly believe these are the feelings of every day life:  Everyone's every day life.   I just think we are really good at hiding from ourselves.

After prayerfully listening, to the best of my vulnerability, to my heart and asking where I was...  I sat for another moment.  And, the thought dawned on me...

You O Lord, where are you?

The same place I have always been.  I am.  Here.  Creator.  Sustainer.  Redeemer.  Rock.  Alpha and Omega.  I am Under...Over...In...you.  I am.  

I am Love.  

I used to feel that God would move far away or I couldn't find Him.  But, I am most certainly the one who moves...  I so easily move away from myself, from others, and ultimately from Him.

I have heard this trite saying, too... many times.  But, today, I experienced Him walking in my garden with me and asking me to stop and answer the age old question... Where are you?

Advent Needed Today

Last night it was at 2 am.  Sometimes it comes in the quiet of the morning... or maybe it comes into the stillness found when I am chopping vegetables for dinner.  Worry.

Worry comes.  Unbidden.  Unwelcome.  But, it comes and I find myself fighting for breath and truth---searching for a solid rock for my emotions to rest upon.

Worry.  Often about yesterday.  Most often about tomorrow.  The thoughts swirl around my mind and my heart.  Dizzy with what feels "real"...but, in reality isn't real at all.  It isn't now.  It's a story.  It is only a fictional piece playing in my mind:  Re-membering yesterday and fore-telling tomorrow.  What might have been?  What I should have done.  What I did wrong?  Will I have enough?  What might come?  What could be the end of this story line?  What if?

Last night it came at 2 am.

The darkness and loneliness of night makes the battle evermore fierce sometimes, doesn't it?

Truth fought hard at the corners and edge of my mind last night.  Do not worry.   Do not be afraid.  Do not be anxious about anything.  I heard the whispers.  But, these words felt so far off.  He felt so far off.

Lord, why is it so hard sometimes for me to take this in?  Why can I not live in this freedom that you offer and bought for me?  

Lessons long learned.  Lessons taught and written about here.  Freedom found.  And, so easily lost... again.  I believe.  Help me with my unbelief!

Morning came.  It always does.  Oh, my Dayspring!  "...through the tender mercy of God, whereby the dayspring from on high hast visited us, to give light to them that sit in the darkness..."  (Luke 1:76-79)

His faithfulness found me here again.  This morning I came.  I sat and waited.  I listened to His Word.  I asked.  Today, a fresh day.  A day to stand on His Truth and He, Himself, as the rock that can steady my heart.  His hold ever secure in midst of the fictional flood that overwhelmed me last night.

He came.  Today, He came.  My Dayspring.  My love.

Love comes.

Truth comes.  Light floods.  Welcomed.  Asked for.  ...hoped for.  The coming.  The Advent again this morning.  Fresh coming.  His whispers---ever steadfast---won and pushed through this morning.  No longer at the edge, His Presence filled.

Advent means the arrival.  The coming.  The rising.  The dawning.  My Advent, my Jesus!  Oh how this heart needs Your coming each and every day.


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The Loaves

"Fraud alert!" is never a good email subject line.  Right?

Usually these alerts amount to nothing.  Something I did has triggered the credit card or bank alert system. But, not yesterday.  

Yesterday 1,000 dollars was taken from my bank account.  After seeing the alert, I logged into our bank and my savings account sat there staring at me with 0.08 cents as it's balance.  Black and white.  8 cents. The money was gone!   

In the following micro seconds, while staring at the 8 cents,  I had a fervent stream of  deep fear and worry.... my daughter's help for college, travel to my brother's wedding this summer, the car breaks...  AH!  How?!  NO!?!  

And then almost immediately the phrase came into my mind... understand and remember the loaves...

Quiet and whispered...  remember the loaves, Stephanie.  

The phrase floated over my consciousness, as I sat staring at my empty bank account, and I could feel a peaceful invitation.  Actually, maybe a smiling, happy invitation:  Come in... You need never be afraid.  You can be unmoved.  You actually can trust Me right now, too.  

Recently, my son and I have been discussing this "loaves" phrase from Matthew 6: 50-52 " Take courage!  It is I.  Do not be afraid.  Then He climbed into the boat with them and the wind died down.  They were completely amazed, for they had not understood about the loaves; their hearts were hard"

Directly after watching Jesus feed five thousand people, the disciples get into a boat and get caught in rocky, difficult weather and water.  They are afraid.  Jesus walks to them on the water and that freaks-them-out maybe more!  The minute He gets in the boat, the water calms.  This surprised and shocked them, too.  What?  Jesus can do miracles?  What?  He can walk on water?  ...and in His presence, the wind dies down?!  It is almost as if this was the first time they had seen Him do miracles.  But it wasn't!! They had already seen so much.  In fact, He had JUST fed five thousand mouths in front of their eyes.  (with twelve left over baskets of fish and loaves, I might add!) 

But, their hearts were hard and they hadn't taken it in.  They hadn't understood.  They weren't remembering.  They were walking into this new situation---rough, tough seas and the ghost of Jesus--- and they were not translating His previous work to their difficult-now.  

How often do I do this?  How often do I forget?  

Oh! How many thousands of loaves has He given me and others I love!?!  Oh... how many answered prayers has He heard and answered.  He has lavished His very Self on and in me.  Years and years of fresh, daily miracles:  His power shown forth in food and the elements.  In the midst of difficult and the hard He has been present.    

In that early morning moment in front of my empty bank account, I stopped.  I hear you, Lord.  Almost with a slight giggle myself, I said out loud:  I understand the loaves, Lord!  I will remember and not harden my heart.   And, I left it.  ...not physically, of course.  There are phone calls and emails to be written---follow-up needed.  But, I left it emotionally.   I really left it.  

The whole day I left it.  Because of the time zone issue, there was nothing to be done till evening.  But, I dropped it and moved on in my day with peace and joy.  

With the trust, there was an implicit assumption and understanding that it may mean the money was gone for good, never to be recovered.  Sometimes God says, "No" to our requests.  He doesn't always give us physical loaves, to be sure.  Jesus never promises that the boat isn't going to rock!! 

If the money is gone for good...  Jesus, You've got this and You are with me!  

If it can be recovered... Jesus, You've got this and You are with me!  

I need never worry.  

I do worry sometimes.  And, I do harden my heart.  I don't always hear or respond to His peace-filled invitations.  But...  

Today, I understood the loaves.  

*In the end, the situation was sorted by the bank.  The money was returned.  There was indeed theft and apparently someone in New York had my debit card (even though I have it in hand here in the UK).  The joys of this dark and clever criminal world we live in!  But, in truth, all is well.  By the end of the day... all bread was back in the basket!  And I have plenty.    ...but, actually, in truth, I had plenty and enough when the bank account showed 0.08 cents.