Are you Shady?

Learning to garden has been a necessity in this lovely green place I live.  It isn't, in all honesty, something I particularly enjoy; but, it has certainly been a fertile ground for heart lessons from the Lord.  

Living things are complex and growing them... tending them... being a good gardener... is a big and challenging job!  I often think of the Lord and His kind hand as I cut, hack, or 'dead-head' any plant or flower.  My cutting and trimming and hacking is good for plant...  I only do it for it's good.  I want it to grow and flourish and produce more fruit.  Oh! The lessons for the heart here... 

I was reading this morning in Mark 4:30-32.  Jesus is making every effort to teach and communicate the beauty of His kingdom to His hearers.  In this case, He choses to use gardening.  He describes the kingdom of God---the gospel, the 'good, good news', the Spirit Truth---as being like a tiny seed that grows into a hardy and life-giving tree.  This is what we are offered in His kingdom.  Into our smallness, comes a small 'truth' and then life grows.  Abundant growth! We grow.  His truth grows in us and makes us (re-creates in us) something hardy and life giving.  

I was struck afresh today by verse 32, where the Kingdom-plant is described as:  1) a place of rest for birds and 2) a place of shade.  And I had this wonderful thought, "Am I shady?"   Prayerfully, I began asking that God would continue to grow His truth in me and make my branches strong to be a place of rest.  I long to be a place of comfort and shade... for all who would come near.  

Are you shady?  

I was listening to a wonderful podcast session by Curt Thompson (MD) recently. (I do highly recommend his books and his teaching.)  Dr. Thompson explains that, as a psychiatrist, he ---yes indeed---offers people an 'answer' and help to problems.  But, actually, much more importantly, he offers himself.  He offers his presence.  Those coming to him for comfort and shade are coming to be seen, heard, and known.  The greatest gift he can give is to show up, let them sit awhile, rest and be shaded.  Presence...the very things we need from each other and ultimately from God.  

God does this for His people and always has.  In Exodus 3:7, He says is straight out, "I have seen... I have heard... and I am concerned..."  One of His names, in fact, is EL ROI... the God who sees.  

In 1 Peter 3:12, we are told that "God's eye is on us and that He is attentive to our prayers..."  Our God is a loving Father that sees and hears.  He is offering Himself to you today.  

God is shady.  God is hardy.  His presence and His truth is a place of rest and comfort.

And, how wonderful is this!? In His kingdom, with Him, we can be shady and comforting and a place of rest for others.  

I can be shady and hardy.  Oh, Lord, make it so! 

~

Mark 4:30-32 Again he said, “What shall we say the kingdom of God is like, or what parable shall we use to describe it? 31 It is like a mustard seed, which is the smallest of all seeds on earth. 32 Yet when planted, it grows and becomes the largest of all garden plants, with such big branches that the birds can perch in its shade.”

I Want to See Like Fred

It really makes a difference what you choose to look for or how you see...  doesn't it?  

I just finished the delightful and poignant film about Fred Rogers' life, A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood.   Apart from the fact that I probably watched every episode of this amazing show from age five years old until I was 10, (and, yes, it brought up so so many 'feels' for me) the life and way of Mr. Rogers inspired me.  And, I am using that word very specifically.  To inspire:  spur on, motivate, quicken.  It comes from the two words Latin 'into' and 'breath'.   As I watched the film, I felt God breath into me fresh thoughts and fill me with more of His heart.  

I walked away thinking a lot about perspective.  Mr. Rogers just seemed to see life, time, circumstances, people and the world in a very distinct way.  He saw differently.  Yes, I was inspired.  His wife is quick to point out, so it is told, that Fred was not a perfect person and that his daily Scripture reading and other habits kept him grounded.  

I walked away from this film wanting to see the world like Mr. Rogers.  I want to see like Fred.  

Interestingly, in God's timing, my Scripture reading this morning was in Luke 6:6-11.  In this story, Jesus encounters a man with a withered hand.  He asks the man to stand up in the crowd... displaying to that little corner of the world... to show His love, compassion, healing miracle.  

It says that the Pharisees came into the scene LOOKING for a way to catch him doing wrong.  They were expecting offense.  

It really makes a difference what you choose to look for...  what you expect...  

Jesus heals the shrivelled hand. He heals a bent, broken, withered hand and makes it whole.  He does this right before their eyes...in real time! Incredible stuff, right?!  Stop a moment and imagine what that might have looked like!  What stunned awe you might feel as you watch this happen before your eyes.  I stand amazed with the thought!  

The Pharisees, though, have a very different reaction.  They see as they choose to see... their eyes bent to see him doing 'wrong'.  And, they react with rage.  Rage!  They see what they expected to see, didn't they?  They see offense in his actions.  They respond with disgust, vehemence and their response is not inspiration---but execution.  "The begin to discuss with each other what they might do to Jesus".    

Jesus does good.  They see bad.  Jesus heals and re-creates beauty.  They respond with a desire to destroy him.  

It really matters how we see.  It matters what you look for...  

Fred Rogers, in his 50 years of ministry on television (yes, he was literally ordained and sent to do this work...read about it!) Mr. Rogers saw every person as beautiful, worthy of love, complicated, and worth his full attention.  

Yes, indeed, I want to see like Fred.  

Please do yourself a big favour and take the time to watch this...  The Best of Mr. Rogers

If you'd like to read 45 quotes from this man of God  click here.  

~~~

Luke 6: 6 On another Sabbath he went into the synagogue and was teaching, and a man was there whose right hand was shrivelled. 7 The Pharisees and the teachers of the law were looking for a reason to accuse Jesus, so they watched him closely to see if he would heal on the Sabbath. 8 But Jesus knew what they were thinking and said to the man with the shrivelled hand, “Get up and stand in front of everyone.” So he got up and stood there. 9 Then Jesus said to them, “I ask you, which is lawful on the Sabbath: to do good or to do evil, to save life or to destroy it?” 10 He looked around at them all, and then said to the man, “Stretch out your hand.” He did so, and his hand was completely restored. 11 But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law were furious and began to discuss with one another what they might do to Jesus.

Open My Eyes, Lord

I woke up two mornings ago with pain and a very swollen eye.  No fun.  It looked like I had been in a fight and lost!  The quick jaunt to the optometrist confirmed that I have a few (significantly and deeply) blocked ducts with no apparent infection---at this point.   So warm compress... and a few weeks... and it all should clear up. 

Asking the Lord for insight into this, I feel led to pray...  Lord, unblock and release us from the things that keep us from seeing Truth.  Help me to see You, myself, and others truly.  Help us to see rightly, Father!  Open our eyes.   

I can see right now.  But, my vision is just slightly impaired by the swelling.  The pain makes me want to close my eyes and stop looking.  And, these ducts have been 'getting' blocked for weeks now---without my awareness and detection.  My eyes were affected and "off" kilter before I even knew it.

How else, Lord, am I seeing impaired? 

These prayers have prompted deep conviction in my own life.  I know there are ways I see the Lord... ways I see the world... ways I see myself and ...ways I see others... ways I see wrongly and off-kilter.  The eyes of my heart and my mind are blocked in some significant ways--as is true of us all.  I need His purification and release.  I need God's truth. I need Him to touch and heal those deep parts of me which are affecting my seeing---my heart-sight.

Scripture tells us to keep our eyes fixed on Jesus.  The Word reminds us that fixed minds and hearts stayed on Him are at peace. When our hearts are steadfast on His Spirit and when we look at things that are of His Spirit, we will keep in step with the Spirit.  When we see rightly, we can walk rightly.  When we are facing or looking in the right direction, we will walk in the right direction.  Right?  Obviously!

So, today, I choose to settle into the reality of my blocked ducts.  I will use it as a prayer trigger until the Lord sees fit to take it away.  I pray for myself first... and then for those I love.... and then beyond.  That the eyes of our hearts would be given light and wisdom to understand more Truth about who God is and who we are in His love (Ephesians 1:17-19)  Would you join me in praying this, too?

Lord, let us see rightly!  

What does freedom look like?

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When talking about our fragile bodies, the word "mass" is never a good word. Mass is just a bad, bad word.

When the word mass comes with a measurement of length and depth and is found in your 17 year old daughter's abdomen... well, it is an absolutely sickening, horrid word.

She had been in pain.  We knew that the daily pain had been increasing... with frequency and intensity.  But, you just never expect.  We didn't expect it.

On January 14th, they found a mass in my daughter's upper abdomen.  The ultrasound tech poked, prodded and spent an extra 20 minutes measuring and trying to discern the realities of this mass.   In that beautifully new, pristine white, sterile, cold room, the doctor explained that there was a 3.6 cm x 3.5 cm x 1.5 cm mass.  He showed us the sonogram---there it was, plain as day...even to an untrained eye.   It needed more investigation and he scheduled a CT scan for the following day.

The next 48 hours was a wild mix of emotions.

We were in a different, foreign country.  We had only arrived the day before.  My husband was scheduled to speak at a 400 person conference in Asia on the topic of "Freedom".

Freedom.

For the past three months, as he had been preparing his lessons for the conference, it had become our family mantra, "What does freedom look like in this, Lord?"  ...when my email account is failing, when my friend is in depression, when my unsaved family member is in the hospital, when I spill beetroot juice on my white sweater, when the university decisions for our kids hang in the balance, when we are grieving the upcoming launch of our girl.... In these things, small and large, what does freedom look like?  

In jet-lag, in shock, in someone else's home.  With this news... what did this mean?  What was next? The mantra question just hung there around us, whispering into my soul.

What, Lord, does freedom look like in the midst of this?  

After we sent out an email to let our prayer partners know of the mass... the email responses began to come in.  Our friends, so many of our friends, were standing with us.  Praying, they wrote.  One after another wrote to us and told us, "We are praying!"  Our family, our friends... they were praying for us. These emails were a sweet balm.  As they came into our inbox, we read them together, prayed and felt the comfort of Father's kids worldwide standing in the gap.  Asking.  Pleading. Praying.

Our friends who live in this foreign land---they cooked for us, shuttled us to and from the hospital, prayed with us.  Laughed with us.  Cried for us.

Freedom looked like being the weak ones---the ones in desperate need of prayer and help.  Freedom looked like the comfort of the Body of Christ.  Freedom looked like unhindered asking... His kids knowing God's heart, His power and the possibilities asking on our behalf.  

For those who follow this blog regularly, or know me personally, you will know I am not a big "crier".  I don't cry easily.   I have often said that I have plenty of tears inside, they just don't seem to make their way out of me!  My crying friends  (which tend to be some of my favorite people) know that I envy them.  I tell my free-to-cry friends often what a gift their tears are to me.  If only... If only I could cry like that!

These past months, though, something beautiful has been shifting in me.  I finally asked a free-crying-friend to pray for me.  I asked her to ask the Lord to give me the gift of tears.  He has been answering.  Slowly but surely, I am crying!  ...weeping, in fact, at times.  I rejoice in this health.  I am still not a "crier"...and I don't anticipate that my personality will change... but, I am more free to allow the heavy, hard, tear-filled pain come and have it's way.  I am finding freedom to feel. Freedom to be sad---deeply sad---I am finding freedom to cry.

What, Lord, does freedom look like in the midst of this?

So, with this horrid, terrifying news, I quietly excused myself to the guest room...and I wept.  I wept freely and with faith that He was with me, He was hearing.  Lament in the purest form... I poured out my heart in tears to the Lord.  Pain,    pain,    pain... that was all the words that came with the tears. Just deep pain.

My baby girl.  My darling baby girl.

Pain. Pain. Pain.

Freedom in the Lord looked like pain and tears for me that night.  Freedom looked like feeling. Lament and surrender wrapped up in pain... there was deep freedom.

48 hours of deep pain...  waiting, watching, feeling...

As we waited in the hospital for the next poke, the gross green-colored juice to drink, and the IV... my daughter began to sing a song.  I don't remember what song it was... but it was quiet and it was worship.  It was surrender.  We joined her and sang.  A quiet singing in the busy, bustling hospital room. Freedom looked like surrender.  Freedom looked like worship.

On January 16th, the very same doctor looked at us and shook his head, shrugging his shoulders.  He said he couldn't explain the discrepancy.  The mass was gone.  The CT scan showed a clean, pristine, beautiful abdomen.  No mass.  No problems.  All was "healthy and good" in my girl's abdomen, he said.

It's a miracle!  I said this without really thinking.  It just popped out of my mouth as an exclamation. "We asked Jesus to take it away!" I told him.  He just shrugged his shoulders and smiled.  "There is no mass," he said.

No mass, he said.  These are good, good words.

We walked away with two CDs in our hands:  an ultrasound with a mass and CT scan without a mass.  Walking away with a documented miracle, and deep relief, my daughter and I jumped, danced and cried in the hospital!  Right there in that place, we freely expressed our joy.

Freedom looked like proclamation and witness.  Freedom looked like profession of joy, praise and worship---  Dancing and crying and hugging... looking a bit "mad" I am sure to any on-looker.

As we exited the hospital, aware that we wouldn't be back anytime soon, the phrase came into my heart... He said "yes!"

He said yes...  

I knew that freedom looked like receiving and rejoicing in His "yes" to our asking, our praying, our pleading.  Freedom looked like knowing He sometimes says "no"... but, today, He said yes.   Trusting Him for His answers.  The freedom to ask and to trust His kind, His all-knowing heart...

In this... In this there is freedom.

What Lord does freedom look like in this?  

...freedom looked like being exactly who I am with and in Jesus.  ...Needy and weak.  ...Honest and real.  ...it looked like surrender and worship.  Weeping. lamenting, rejoicing and laughing.  ...freedom looked like asking, hoping, pleading, expecting.  ...freedom looked like receiving and proclaiming.  ...witnessing and trusting.

You Lord, present in the the unknown, the scary, the painful,  the "no" and the "yes".  You, Lord, Present in the lament, the worship and the joy...  You, Lord, are our freedom.  
You are freedom, Jesus.  You.

It is for freedom that I am set free.... (Galatians 5:1)

Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom... (2 Corinthians 3:17)

Why I Write...

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I write because I am so glad they did...

God Almighty, thank you, for Your Word!

Moses...  thank you, for Genesis and Exodus.  

Isaiah, thank you!  

Peter and Paul, thank you for putting your thoughts:  His heart, His Thoughts--- to paper. John, thank you, for recording the movements of Jesus and His words.  

St. Augustine, thank you, for attempting to articulate your journey.  

Thank you...Oswald Chambers, Andrew Murray, Henri Nouwen, C.S. Lewis, Hannah Whithall Smith, Brother Lawrence, Madam Guyon, T.J. MacLeslie, Brene Brown, St. Teresa of Avilla, Ann Voskamp, Brian Wells, George MacDonald, Henry Cloud and John Townsend, Lauren Winner...

...they just wrote--- or are currently writing.  

And, I am so very glad.   I am deeply grateful.  

Known...  Unknown.  The famous and the obscure.  

"If you cannot express yourself on any subject, struggle until you can.  If you do not, someone will be the poorer all the days of his life.  Struggle to re-express some truth of God and God will use that expression to someone else.  ...it will become the very wine of strengthening to someone else...  the author that benefits you most is not the one who tells you something you did not know before, but the one who gives expression to the truth that has been dumbly struggling in you for utterance."  (Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest, December 15th)  

This is another reason why I will continue to write...  

Stack of Friends

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I have started to refer to them as "my friends".  A little weird?  Maybe.  

Some evenings, my family giggles and tells me to "go have some time with your friends"... and I sit in my chair and pick up 'a friend'.  

These friends sit there stacked on my table... bought with love and care with saved, special birthday money or Christmas gifts---  my books.  My stack of "friends".  

I am realizing more and more what a relief I feel when I read.  ...and, in particular, when I read books that challenge me; books that are truly 'beyond me'.  I like a book that is just a bit difficult for me to understand.  It strangely relaxes my mind and moves me to think in ways that are refreshing.  Funny? Maybe.  I don't know.  

I have noted this phenomenon to other people and some look at me, smile in a way that communicates---"yep, I totally get you."  Others have different friends... the piano, the paint brush, the computer, their tvs, cds, or their hiking boots.  

Don't get me wrong.  I love LOVE real, human friends more.  There is profoundly more relief in my soul and more fulfillment when I sit with a human friend and talk about life, love, you, me, and God. These are the friends I treasure most, to be sure!  

But, I can't lie... I do like a good, long "conversation" with an author...  Okay... enough of that.  

One friend I am 'talking with' right now is a book entitled, Anatomy of the Soul, by Curt Thompson. And, I am loving our conversation!  This book is a life-giving, hope infusing look at the brain and our minds.  Curt Thompson writes about our redeeming God, who has set-up our brains for redemption and renewal. With salvation and the indwelling Holy Spirit, we really are given the mind of Christ and can be renewed day-by-day.   Did you know that your very brain has been wired in such a way that those habits you hate in yourself, those responses you don't understand and are frustrated with, ...even those memories you loath... they all can be renewed and redeemed---made beautiful for His Kingdom?  I stand amazed at Dr. Thompson's way of integrating Scripture, science and psychology in a hope-filled way.  

If you know me well, you will know that I have always said, "I don't have many memories from my childhood".  This is what my husband has heard for over 20 years.  And, in one very real way, it is true.  I can't articulate the facts of my childhood very well at all.  ..where I schooled.  ...what house or where I lived.  ...the teacher's name ...or the specific 10th birthday party.  I don't seem to have much access to these facts at this point.  These feel like 'lost years'.  

Until...  until my friend Dr. Curt Thompson suggested I sit and try to remember in a different way.  He suggests in one of his exercises...   

"Start by thinking of your earliest memories.  Record it and continue to write as much as you can from the first decade of life.  Do not become overwhelmed by trying to write about later events or keeping strict chronological order.  Simply record what comes to mind---paying close attention to sensations, feelings, images, colors, and the like—not just facts." (excerpt from his autobiography exercise) 

So, I decided to start this process last week.  I set aside some moments of quiet and solitude.  I only began with age 0-6...  really believing there was nothing much there.  I was astonished when I sat and thought of these year; looking specifically for sensations, feelings, images and color.  OH! my!  all sorts of "memories" came to mind.  I filled a few journal pages.  Dr. Thompson suggests that our brains hold memories in a myriad of ways--- smell, sights, sounds, etc.  And, most of these memories are not necessarily transferred to the chronological, facts, part of our brains.  Don't worry about the facts, he writes.  

As I sat and remembered, I saw many things.  White and green.  Yellow.  Cold snow and scary tall trees.  I remembered many things.  Mostly happy.  Which, if I am honest, surprised me!  I saw beautiful, surprisingly happy memories of green fields, swimming pools, a swing set and white! (the vanilla ice cream acquired in magical-never-ending-supply from a little white hut at the club my grandparents belonged to).   I saw snow and snow ice cream.  I saw a yellow bedroom and a friendly neighbor.  I remembered a long, tree covered, cool walk to the school bus.  There were also sensations I remembered as I sat quietly... gleeful, magical, happy and profoundly sad.   Multi-colored.  Multi-sensory.  

I am remembering.  And, I stand amazed.  Thanks, Curt.  ...my husband and children are loving hearing these, too. Which is good fun!   

Believe me, if I am honest, this journey hasn't and won't be all fun and games.  I know.  I truly feel a bit of trepidation and am hesitant about the idea of sitting to remembering the next decade--- those hard, sad years, the 'trauma' years that have 'defined' me for most of my life.  But, for some time now, I have been intrigued by the idea of multi-colored memories (thanks, Disney's 2015 "Inside Out" for this beautiful image!).  For years (even before Disney), I have been praying and on a hopeful search for the happy in the midst of the sad.  ...believing there must be both.  If both live in our mundane every day---why wouldn't it not be true of my age 10?  Curt Thompson agrees with me, I think, and is showing me a way forward in the search.

I am grateful for this new 'friend' from my stack---who is teaching me a bit about my brain and my God.   ...another step in knowing and being known.

Grace for a Cracked Little One

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It cracked!  Oh no!!  

It cracked and we both instantly felt afraid.

Straight through the delicate, beautiful, pink flowers was an obvious crack.

Mom!!!  Mom, what do I do!?  The look in her eyes was sheer panic. I felt it, too.

The heat of shame flushed down my neck as I realized what had just happened.  The borrowed tea cup had just cracked!

They had freely given my daughter this precious item to use... but, it had also come with a warning.  Be careful!  Please be careful, she had said, it is very fragile.  She had been careful!!  I watched her carefulness.  Proud of her, I watched as she heeded the generous warning...

But it didn't matter.  This precious piece of history was now leaking tea...  it had cracked.

My girl had just needed one more tea cup and saucer for the Christmas tea she was hosting.  Last minute, we asked around... neighbors.  And, this one was given.

It was 50 years old.  Bought on a honeymoon to commemorate a marriage.  A precious treasure that was then stored away... hardly ever used.  But, freely given.  They wanted her to use it.

And, she had been so very careful with it!

But, it clearly cracked and leaked.  We both felt afraid and ashamed.

Mom, what do I do!? 

In that moment, I calmly advised her to lay it down.  She had done her best, I told her.  We would deal with the problem after the party.

Lay it down, my sweet girl. 

Go enjoy your party.  Enjoy your friends.  It is not a worry for now.  Lay it down. 

Sweet girl, they will be graceful.

These last words were spoken with a hopeful prayer behind them.  Oh! Father, help them to be graceful!

We hang on so tightly to things, don't we!?  We treasure this world and our homes and our bodies.  We grasp and we grab and we just tug a bit tightly.  Or, at least, I do.  When our world and our bodies and our things break---we feel angry, we feel hurt.  It hurts when our things crack.

What grief might this cracked-precious-thing bring to my dear friends?  The thought made my stomach turn.

The Christmas tea went off without another hitch.  The giggling and singing of girl-friends wafted through the house.  She had moved on and enjoyed!

But, she hadn't forgotten.  After the laughter died down, the games were finished and the party was over, she looked at me again with fear.  Go with me, please, Mom!  I need you.   We walked hand-in-hand.  We walked the tiny, delicate, now-damaged memento home to her owners.

Do you know what they said...

The word grace hardly even describes the response.  It felt bigger, sweeter, and even more tender than grace.

The minute my sweet girl confessed the crack, those old eyes sparkled and even laughed a bit with light in them, "Oh!  Honey! Don't you worry another minute.  I am so sorry you were troubled about it at all.  Honey, I am going to heaven soon... and I am NOT taking this with me!"

I am not taking this with me! 

As we left, I thanked her for her grace.  She chuckled out loud this time, "Oh, dear! If I can't give grace at this age, then none of us have hope!"

My girl and I left their home with a lightness in our step and praise on our lips.

I guess we had many lessons to learn that night...  a lesson in trying your best and things still cracking!  A lesson in letting things go and enjoying a party anyway.  I think we had a lesson in prayer and hopeful expectations.   And a lesson in repentance and humility.  A lesson in the giving and receiving of grace.

Most certainly we both had a lesson in what really matters.  In holding a bit less tightly to this world.

A lighter hand.  A looser grip.

If it cracks a bit... it really is okay.  There is grace for that, too.

Beams of love

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...a single lovely rose was bought as a "pre-birthday" love gift.
...household chores were done to show love in my "love language".
...flowers dropped off at my house.
...gifts bought and special meals made.
...card delivered, hugs given and FB love poured over in abundance.

I turned 40 this week.
And, I was well-loved.

...she sent a list of 40 things she loves about me:  40 separate, sweet and thoughtful words.
...another sent a list of 40 moments and memories that we have together--the places and times our journeys have intersected.
...my colleagues filled 40 balloons with 40 things they like about me.  Forty scraps of paper.  40 amazing phrases and compliments.  Kind words, tender thoughts and love.

Why is it so hard sometimes to sit and receive such sentiment and love?  It is hard, though, isn't it?  At least, it is for me.  It was uncomfortable and beautiful all at once.  I loved it and hated it simultaneously!   I had to pray my way as I read those 40 things out-loud to the group...  just take it in, Stephanie.

Father, help me to just live open-hearted and receive this love!  
  

William Blake once wrote, “We are here to learn to endure the beams of love”.  I endured great beams of love this last week and I am learning to take them in!  What a blessing! 

  

And, so, I share with you here my "counting".  These friends counted up to 40 for me this week.  I am counting my way to 1,000:  counting 1,000 grace-gifts for which I am deeply, daily thankful.  I share with you here just a few of my list from this week:  

#17.  A warm fire.

18.  Snuggled up infront of the fire. 

21.  Prayer for others in the night. 

24.  A special red rose, a pre-birthday gift from my girl.

29.  The humility that she shows forth when she asks for help and for prayer.

30.  Honest tears of grief shared with me. 

37.  Giggling girls in the other room having fun. 

38.  Warm water!

43.  The gift of a beautiful, slow paced walk together. 

46.  40 memories arrives in my inbox.

47.  40 words, kind words, sent to my inbox with love. 

49.  Hard, loud conversations and a patient father that perseveres.

50.  A long, quiet afternoon to read. 

53.  A warm fire. 

54.  Friends for my kiddos. 

61.  Prayer singing with my kids.  

69.  Silly games online with family overseas.

72.  Adventures down the river. 

#74.  Outrageous generosity of friends.  

His beams of love over me are amazing... and I want to reflect those back even just a bit.

....I am joining and linking up with others from www.aholyexperience.com

Immanuel Spoken of...

They will call him Immanuel, which means God is with us.  (Isaiah 7:14, Matthew 1:23)

I have been loving the concept of "Immanuel" this Advent Season.   What a perplexing, amazing, mind-blowing, and comforting idea and Truth!!  God with us!

God with us in the waiting. God with us in the pain.  God with us in the tired moments and the moments of pleasure.  God with us in the mundane and the fun!  God is with us.

God is with you...  today.

God is with me.

I want to know and understand His Presence, His Thoughts, His Heart more...

As I have been enjoying and thinking on the concept of Immanuel, His Presence with us, I have been blessed by reading the thoughts of others...

I have said it before---one of the reasons I write is because I read.  Words touch me and move me.  The words of others sometimes make concrete the very ideas, concepts and streaming thoughts that swirl in my heart and mind.

So, today, I offer you a few pieces of bread from the tables of others.  ...from the places I have feasted this week.  Read with me and taste the beauty of God's Truth in these words.

From old-friends and family:

"God is a Person, and in the deep of His mighty nature He thinks, wills, enjoys, feels, loves, desires and suffers as any other person may.  In making Himself known to us He stays by the familiar pattern of personality.  He communicates with us through the avenues of our minds, our wills and our emotions.  The continuous and unembarrassed interchange of love and thought between God and the soul of the redeemed man is the throbbing heart of the New Testament religion"  ~A. W. Tozer

"To sense the presence of God in the Bible, one must learn to be present to God in the Bible.  Presence is not a concept, but a situation.  To understand love it is not enough to read tales about it.  Presence is not disclosed to those who are unattached and try to judge, to those who sense the story, not the pathos; the idea, not the realness of God.  The Bible is the frontier of the spirit where we must move and live in order to discover and to explore.  It is open to him who gives himself to it, who lives with it intimately."  ~Abraham Heschel

"God is not real to most of us because of our consciousness.  He is closer to our minds every moment than our own thoughts.  He is nearer to our hearts than our own feelings.  He is more intimate with our wills than our most vigorous decisions.  If we are not aware of him, it is not because he is not with us.  It is, in part, because our consciousness is so under the sway of other interests that it cannot turn to him with the loving attention which might soon discern him."  ~Albert Edward Day

"From the first moment of your spiritual life until you are ushered into glory, the language of Christ to you will be, "Come, come unto me."  As a mother puts out her finger to her little child and woos it to walk by saying, "Come," even so does Jesus.  He will always be ahead of you, bidding you follow him as the soldier follows his captain.  He will always go before you to pave your way, and clear your path, and you shall hear his animating voice calling after him all through life."  ~Charles Spurgeon

"He was not terrified.  One believing like him in the perfect Love, the perfect Presence, and the perfect Will of a Father of men, as a fact of facts, fears nothing."  ~George MacDonald, Sir Gibbie

"O Holy Spirit of God, visit now this soul of mine, and tarry within it until eventide.  Inspire all my thoughts.  Pervade all my imaginations.  Suggest all my decisions.  Lodge in my will's most inward citadel and order all my doings.  Be with me in my silence and in my speech, in my haste and in my leisure, in company and in solitude, in the freshness of the morning and the weariness of the evening; and give me grace at all times to rejoice in thy mysterious companionship."  ~John Baillie

Reposted from 12/16/2011

Seeds of Love

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Seeds germinate in the earth without me ever seeing the miracle.  A deep, powerful work happens  beneath the soil that produces beauty from these seemingly small, insignificant seeds.  The seeds sprout and grow and push through the earth!  Flower seeds produce beautiful flowers, grass seeds produce vibrant grass, and wheat seeds produce abundance of wheat.  It is amazing, really, when I take a minute to think of it.

Seeds of love... what do they produce?

I loved Ann Voskamp's  idea of planting "seeds of love" as a family and watching them grow.  We have adopted this idea for the month of December and we are having such fun!

In short, we put some dirt in a pot.  Then we found some grass seeds---tiny, tiny, tiny grass seeds.  We put the pot in a warm, sunlit spot and we water it daily.

...AND, then we add the seeds.  Little by little.  Day by day.

Each seed is planted quietly with silent, secretive, random acts of kindness and love.

...I put away her shoes that have been left in haste---I plant a seed. ...I make her bed---I quietly plant a seed.  ...I hang up his towel and fold her laundry---and I plant a seed.  These quiet acts of love have become "a game" of sorts in our home---a game with no competition, but with everyone winning!

What will each seed planted--each random act of simple love---do in our souls as we serve each other this month?

It has produced giggles and smiles.  It has brought tip-toeing service of a sister..."shhh, I don't want her to catch me!"

Will the grass actually grow in this freezing climate we live?!  Will the grass seeds produce a green, lush crop in our pot during this dark, cold month--- cloud covered, dark mornings, dark afternoons?  I don't know.  But, I do know that the seeds of love are already producing good in my heart.  I believe that these acts of love are indeed germinating in my soul.

Because seeds of kindness produce kindness.  Grace seeds produced undeserved, warm grace.  And, seeds of love grow and germinate into love.

___________
...a few weeks later, after writing this post...

They ARE growing!!!  Smiles fill our faces as we watch in wonder.

Choose to Hope

Did you know that hope is not an emotion?

Did you know that hope is a choice, a learned skill, a cognitive process and way of thinking?*

Emotion plays a part in hope... we can feel hopeful, of course.  Or, we can feel hopeless.  But, hope is a way--an avenue we can take-- hope is a way we can choose to think or not think.  It is a choice.  It involves our will and our minds... and, even more important it is fueled by our spirits and hearts.

I am utterly fascinated by this thought tonight as I continue to read Brene Brown's The Gifts of Imperfection.  Certainly and deliberately not a Christian book, her research and her conclusions are chalked full of deep insight and God's Truth.  This delights me!

Hope is focusing on the unseen... and believing that it will be, or that it is.  That is essentially what faith is--- a  "seeing" of an unsee-able God, a hoping in an "unseeable" but very certain future; and it is a choice to fix our hearts and minds on Him, His Truth and His victory in the now and the not-yet.  This is hope.  This is faith.  I don't have to "feel" it necessarily.  I can choose it!... "I believe.  Help my unbelief" comes to mind.  (Mark 9:24)

The feeling of hopefulness then can closely follow the choice to hope.  We strike the match, we light the candle and warmth and glow follow.

According to research, this way of thinking---and the following hopefulness---produces resilience, wholehearted and genuine living.  And, to add to the beauty of this research... is that hope-thinking can be cultivated.  

What a great word!  It can be cultivated.  It can be grown.  We can cultivate hope!  We can choose to turn our eyes to the unseen and hope in Him!

I am not  naturally a hope-filled person.  Anyone who knows me well, knows the Stephanie-mantra, "The key to happiness is low expectations."  After pondering this concept of hope cultivation---I am more and more bothered with this mantra that has ruled my life for so long.  Helpful?  Yes, of course.  It protects me from disappointment.  A coping mechanism of sorts, to be sure.  But, I am wondering how this affects my view of God---
I want to choose and cultivate hope...  I want to choose today to have high expectations and hope in God.  He will be Present tomorrow!  He will come through.  He always has!  I can expect Him to lead and to protect and to show Himself faithful to me.

And, according to the research, do you know how we seem to learn it best, as well?  We seem to learn hope best "in the context of other people" (Gifts of Imperfection, pg. 66)

We learn to hope by being with and watching other people who hope and who teach us to hope by their consistency.   We learn to hope by experiencing faithfulness in friendship, consistency and healthy boundaries within relationships.  Other people teach us to hope.  I love this!  The Body of Christ--- the church, the family, the fellowship of "two or three"--- is the perfect classroom for practicing and learning the skill of choosing and walking in hope.

You can teach me! I can teach you.  I can teach my children and my children can teach me.  We can spur each other on toward "hope"!  We can invite each other into the joy of living within the feeling of hopefulness.

So, my friends, I issue an invitation to you!  Come with me and choose to hope today.  I say to you...  God Almighty is faithful.  His love is sweet and His Presence is filling and powerful.  He is and He was and He will always be...  Come in, walk one more step forward, enter into His rest today---taste and see that the Lord is good.


 (*according to psychology and the research psychologists, C.R.Snyder)

Painful squabbling

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When I hear them squabble... which they (indeed!) do from time-to-time...it grieves my heart.  Brother and sister.  They pick at each other and poke and bite.  It is painful.

It is painful to listen to them fight, to argue, or to be unkind.

In their words and their actions, I see so clearly the pride and self-centered-ness that plagues our human race.  In their tones and in the tenor of their voices, I hear so clearly the yuck that mucks my own heart.  Ugliness.  Stink.

"Did you hear the way you just spoke to your sister?" I ask of my son.

Why is it so hard, Lord to be kind.  I struggle, too.

I read in His Word about loving genuinely and preferring others above myself.  I read that we are to put on love, grace and humility. I read "as much as depends on you, live at peace with all men." (Romans 12:18)

And, I read Jesus' invitation to come to Him to learn about humility and gentleness. (Matthew 11:29)

And, I realize, again---it is something we need to learn.  I need to learn.  Simply put, it doesn't come naturally.  Both of my sweet kids came out of the womb feeling that they were the center of the universe and not wanting to share or to prefer others.  They didn't want to share their toys, their space or their mother!  And, yet, they can learn.  They are learning.

And, so am I.  ...slowly.

"Did you hear the way you spoke to your husband, Stephanie?"  the Spirit of God whispers to my heart.

Why is it so hard, Lord to be kind and gentle?  

I wonder how He feels when He hears me squabble... even when it is only in my mind... with my brother or my sister?  Does it grieve Him or pain Him as it pains me to hear my children?

How good and pleasant it is when they dwell in unity!!  (Psalm 13:1)  When His children are living in unity, in love and in genuine affection for each other--- it smells good to our Father, "like precious oil running down Aaron's beard".

Teach us, Jesus to live in unity and to be humble.  Lead us into all truth, Spirit of God.  Father, guard us from the evil one and make us one, just as You are one with the Son.  We have so much to learn!  I have so much to learn!  

"Hope and faith will both come to an end when we die.  But love will remain.  Love is eternal.  Love comes from God and returns to God.  When we die, we will lose everything that life gave us except love.  The love with which we lived our lives is the life of God within us.  It is the divine, indestructible core of our being.  This  love not only will remain but will also bear fruit from generation to generation"  -Henri Nouwen, The Wounded Healer

So much to learn...

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I have so much to learn...

With a slight smile and a gleem in his eye, he begins to sing and dance around the kitchen. A silly, silly song.  Nonsense, really.  But, it brings a chuckle to my heart and a giggle rises up parting my lips to a smile.  I can't help but smile.  So, so goofy is my sweet boy.  Dancing and singing in the kitchen, while cleaning a cucumber for lunch.  Such joy!  Such fun.  And, he teaches me.

We all sit quietly side-by-side, hours of waiting, to process the renewal of passports.  In a room heaving with people, other applicants, I am annoyed and impatient.  She leans in, my sweet girl, and tells me that a woman behind me is about to break down in tears.  My sweet girl wants me to know so I, too, will pray for this woman---because she is praying.  She has been praying for those throughout the room whiles she waits.   And, she teaches me.

They sit and share the ins-and-outs of a difficult conversation last night.  Their future and livelihood are in jeopardy---ambiguity reigns in this circumstance.  But, they shares their deep and confident trust in God's provision.  They talk of the passion that wells up within them:   it is God's job to fix this---to lead and to provide... not mine, not theirs.  And, they teache me.

She doesn't comb her hair before she answers the door---a "bed head" mess from a quick afternoon nap.  And no makeup has touched those lips today.  And, yet she confidently, joyfully, and with out hesitation welcomes me in.  It is as if she is completely unaware of her outward appearance.  She rests in who she is and simple beauty exudes from her.  And, she teaches me.

We sit quietly next to each other, reading.  But, he just must share about what he is thinking as he reads.  He can't help but lean over and show me, engage me in the "discussion" that is going on in his head as he wrestles with the writer and her thoughts about God.  He questions and pokes.  He doesn't just read and take it in as I might do... he "talks" with the author and His God.  He prods and he argues.  It doesn't sit right.  "Something isn't right about what she is saying here," he says.  And, he teaches me.

She stops, while on her way, to answer my question.  A stupid question, really.  But, she stops in her tracks and gives me her time.  Her space.  Her heart.  She communicates with words and her eyes that I am her priority right now---as if she has all the time in the world.  I know she doesn't.  But, she gives of herself so freely, so naturally, so graciously.  And, she teaches me.

She writes with such vulnerability it almost hurts to read.  She allows me in as she shares her heart and pours out pain onto a computer screen.  She is weak.  She is faulty and fragile.  She is in need of God and doesn't care who knows.  And as I read her writing, she teaches me.

I have so much to learn today.
And, I have a world of people to learn it from.

My brothers and sisters are always teaching me, if I am ready, willing and able to see and hear.  They teach me.  And, today, I am aware I have much to learn.  So, I listen to his silly song and watch the gleem in his eye, the joy in his heart.  And, I learn a little today from this sweet boy.

I listen to her compassionate heart and ask the Lord to open mine.  And, I learn a bit more today.
They teach me.

I do love the Church...and church

"Together in Battle" photo source

As, I wake and pour my cup of coffee, I realize that within me there is a distinguishable excitement rising this morning.

What is it?

In one moment, quickly, I know...I get to go to church!

What an opportunity to come together with brothers and sisters... from different backgrounds, ages and races... and worship together in song, prayer and the hearing of the Word!

I didn't grow up going to church---at least not regularly.  But, through the years, it has become such a beautiful part of my week .  A place to give and receive warmth and friendship.  A place where I can come and think on my Lord...  lift my eyes and remember.  Another point in my week that ushers me into Truth and Life and Him. A place where I can sing and worship.  An opportunity.  

Regardless of where we have lived, we have always looked and sought out the gathering of His people.

We have walked many miles to go, taken 45 minute bus rides or paid the extra cost of a taxi each week.  In each place our family has longed to gather with His people, and God has always given us this opportunity.

And, I love that everywhere we have lived, it has looked very different---taken different forms, different modes, different ways.  I love the versatility of the church---throughout history it has moved and morphed---  it has looked different in Greece and Africa.  It still looks different in Kazakhstan, Turkey and Japan.   When the village Kazakhs worship they do so on a dombra, sitting on the floor around the dasterhan.  When the Russian Baptists worship, the women cover their heads and the children stay in for the whole service.  When the Africans worship, you can bet there will be dancing, clapping and vocal expressions of "hallelujahs!"  I love this!

I love that church can be a place where I sit with, interact with and serve along side brothers and sisters that I might never know or normally have lunch with!  I love that church is a place that honors the Word of God.  I love hearing the thoughts and journey of my brother's interactions with Scripture.  I love that my Father often uses the words spoken, the prayers prayed, the songs sung and the Word shared to challenge, stir or encourage my heart.

I love that I get to dress up a bit.  (I know this is my cultural form---but this stay-at-home, work-from-home, home-schooling mom loves this!)  I love that it feels somewhat similar to the excitement of going to a party.  ...A bit dressed.  ...A bit anticipating.  ...my heart filled with the expectancy of a good time with friends.

I know this blog is simplistic.  I know that I am not dealing with any or all the challenges and troubles in the Church and at church.  But, I just had to share...
I am so excited that I get to go this morning!

What can I give this morning? I ask the Father.  Who would you have me pray for or encourage?
What will I receive this morning? I ask my Father.  ..excitement is rising in my heart for what He might show me today.

Thank you Father for Your Body, the Church.  And, thank you Father for the church, the gathering of the Body, Your church.  What a wonderful opportunity!  

Overwhelmed by a gift

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She just took off her necklace and gave it to me.
A beautiful, hand-crafted piece of art, she took it off and gave it to me as she was leaving.  What!? Why would she do that?

"Stop, don't give me your necklace!" I cried, as she was unlatching it at the back of her neck. "You are not seriously giving that to me?!" I said, still trying to stifle the shocking generosity I was experiencing.

"I am."  she said in a matter-of-fact tone, with gentle smile.  "I wanted to bring you a gift and I didn't.  So, I will give you this."

Last night, I watched the awe-striking beauty of living in such freedom from things...

As A.W. Tozer might suggest that her possessions do not posses her.  She was not clinging to this thing...

"There can be no doubt that this possessive clinging to things is one of the most harmful habits in the life.  Because it is so natural, it is rarely recognized for the evil that it is.  It's outworkings are tragic."  ~A. W. Tozer

Last night I saw open handed generosity, I watched it and received it.  I felt it's kindness and sweetness placed and secured around my neck.

Having lived most of our adult lives overseas and on faith-based financial support, we have the unique opportunity to see generosity in the Body of Jesus daily.  We really do.   Early in our ministry, living on the donations of churches and individuals was a horrible burden for me---a difficult struggle for my heart.  The tightness of a small budget, the ambiguity of how much would come in each month, the pressure and judgement I felt living "on other people's money"... all of these felt heavy and hard.  

And, now, instead--- I love it.  I truly love it.

In the 15 years of living overseas, something has changed deeply inside of me.  God has taught me something right and real.  He has shown me that it is ALL His money, through His kids, to support His kids and His kingdom.

All of it--- all of us--- all His.

I get to see God provide through His people every day.  Through the generosity and faithfulness of His people, I have seen His provision and blessing in abundance.  I know each phone bill is paid because one of His children, my brother, has given to support us.   I know that each time I get on an airplane, He has bought the airline ticket and used some of His children to give us that gift.

And God's people are a very generous lot, I might say.  Not only is God using His kids to pay our rent and our medical bills; but we have above and beyond our "needs".  There have been times when we have been given temporary houses and cars in spades.  We have been given gift cards and "fun money"!  ...And, books and coats and ipods.  And yesterday I was given a necklace.  Why would she do that?!  My heart still reels with the profound generosity in the act of giving and receiving.  I am still overwhelmed by the gift.

We talked about it as a family as we drove away last night.  What fun it is to watch generosity!!  She blessed my heart--- deeply.  She blessed "my socks off!" with her gift.  And, I wondered out loud if maybe her heart felt blessed in the giving.  Her smile and gentleness indicated she was touched by the gift, as well.

It IS certainly good fun to give, too, isn't it?!  

Both of us blessed.  Both of us living out, living under, the beauty of giving:  the giving and the receiving.
For, "this is love..."  (I John 4:10)  and "this is love..." (Romans 5:8)

An Ugly Game

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We play the comparison game way too much.  Is it just ladies who do this?  I don't know.  But, it can be so harmful.  And, it is so random...like rolling dice.  Who can predict the winner?  

The ability to judge and compare is a significant gift from God.

God compares.  Scripture's stories and Truth are full of His judging, His statements of comparison.  He judges.  I believe this ability to see and compare is a beautiful piece of His image in us.

We use this God-like ability in our every day lives.  From when we are young, we learn to compare and judge the safety of one situation to another.  We make early judgments and decide from very early who we will "go-to", reaching out our hands...  "this one I know."  "This one I trust", a small toddler will make these judgments, won't he?  

The difference, of course, is that God Almighty always judges rightly.  His judgments are always couched in His love, His grace and His mercy.  He is holy, perfect and without sin. He sees clearly, righteously and He is always good.  I am not.

Isn't that crying baby, who won't come to me, making a wrong judgement about my being unsafe?

Now, I do believe that using God's Word allows us to make some pretty sure judgments.  Scripture does certainly name some things as clearly right and wrong, beautiful and ugly, godly and ungodly.    

But, that said, when I use this comparison with my sinful, inperfect, or twisted "lens" on---not the clear lens of Scripture--- well, then I have a problem, don't I ?!  

And, I do it all the time.  I don't think I am alone here.  I think we do it all the time.  

We make judgements.  We make comparisons.

And, then we play a game---the comparison game.  This is when we get into trouble.   Not only do we make a comparison--- but we then place a value on our comparison.  We call one thing right and one thing wrong.  One thing is better and one thing is worse.  There is a winner and a loser in our comparison game!

Sometimes I win.  And sometimes I lose.

He is smarter, I am not as smart.  He wins.  I lose.  She is prettier.  I am not as pretty.  She wins.  I lose.  She is fat.  I am not.  She loses. I win.  She is creative.  I am not as creative.  She wins.  I lose.  ...stupid, silly comparisons begin to plague our thinking about ourselves and our thinking about others.

He is better at this ...she is better at that...

Then we get into bigger, not so small--- deeply harmful, comparisons.  Relational comparisons--- seriously dangerous ground!  She has her quiet time at this time.  I don't.  She does this for God.  But, I do that.  He hears God in this way.  I don't.  She does.  I can do this.  She can't.  She can do this.  I can't.   I struggle with this.  She doesn't.  She struggles with this... I don't!  On and on it goes.  All the while we are making comparisons and judging our "place".  Winners and losers.   Do you ever play this game?  When does it ever stop?!

What a mess we have made of a sweet gift!

Instead of our God-created differences being something that we can see, judge rightly, and deeply value; it brings animosity, or insecurity.  Instead of unity, our comparisons bring disunity.   Instead of your strengths bringing hope and a compliment to my weakness... I feel badly or wrong.  Or, I feel better or self-righteous.

We just win or lose.  This game playing brings distance, a massive chasm, between you and me.

These judgments bring a block to trust, intimacy and vulnerability between him and her.   We see it in marriages.  We see it in sisters.  Brothers.  We see it in friendships and neighbors.

I have put you over there "in that category" and me over here "in this category".  You are better than me, so therefore you are not like me.  And, hence, I can not trust you or open up to you.  And, I certainly can't show you my weakness.   I feel far from you.  Judged by you.

It doesn't matter if I am winning or losing the game--- either way, pride or self-hatred, we are disconnected from each other.  With our pride or self-hatred we are not seeing ourselves as God sees us.

What freedom would come if we saw ourselves and others rightly--with our strengths and weakness in full view--- and valued God's creativity and His work in each of our lives.  He views us with grace.  Can I trust that He will, in me... and you...  ...make all things beautiful in His time.

Instead sometimes we are walking around like a nose detached from the face, bemoaning the fact that we are not an ear... or proud of the fact that we can smell better than him...  What a mess--- what an ugly game we play!

Wash us in Your Love Father!  Cover us with Your Grace and Mercy, Jesus.  Holy Spirit, bring wisdom and understanding.  Lead me into all Truth.   

Join the "Hymn" of Thanksgiving

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For home school this morning we read from Then Sings My Soul by Robert Morgan:  a beautiful book that shares the stories of 150 classic hymns:

  "An old English preacher once said, "A grateful mind is a great mind," and the Bible agrees.  There are 138 passages of Scripture on the subject of thanksgiving...  Colossians 3:17 says:  And whatever you do in word or deed, do all in the name of Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through Him"  I Thessalonians 5:18 adds, "In everything give thanks, this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.'" (p. 17)

We read about a hymn of thanksgiving written in the midst of the most dire circumstances.  Poverty, sickness, and death surrounded the writer of "Now Thank We All Our God"   ...the man who wrote this hymn was certainly practicing Paul's command to "Rejoice always!"

Today, I join others in a "hymn of thanksgiving" at www.aholyexperience.com.  Joining Ann Voskamp and others, I continue counting, on my way to logging 1,000 gifts of love and grace from God.  For, I agree, a grateful mind is a great mind."  I want my mind to be great with gratitude!

Here is a portion of my list from this last week:

#945.  A good, healthy "fight" with my husband.  Good resolution, healthy conflict, forgiveness...  connection and closeness.  Understanding.

946.  Freedom to sleep in on Saturday!

947.  Helpful customer service.

948.  Hair products as a testimony of Father's kind love to a friend.

950.  "Yes, Mommy!"  said with joy and obedience.

951.  Wind that howls outside.

952.  That good ol "cried wolf" story told by Daddy to make a point.

953.  Evening walk with my family.

954.  Berries off the bushes for dessert.

955.  Silly (stupid) movies that harmless and funny.

956.  Classic literature that moves me.

959.  Leaving dishes in the sink with joy and freedom.  They don't scream at me as loudly!

960.  Plans made with friends.

961.  Beautiful, handmade birthday cards made for Grandma.

961.  A rainy walk with my son and then a close cuddle on the couch to warm up with a book.

Sharing a bit of bread...

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I write here, in part, because I read.

Just today I found myself thankful for those who have gone before me and have written about their journey. I thanked God today for Amy Carmichael. On Friday, I thanked God for Charles Spurgeon. These men and women walked with Christ and wrote of their thoughts, their feelings, and God's words to them... and I am fed by their writings.

Like the friends that brought food from their homes to feed my family when I was sick; these old and ancient "friends" feed me with the food they have received from God. I eat of the manna they collected. I am so glad they wrote.

So, I write here of my journey. I write here about small things, random thoughts, and real-life walking because maybe, just maybe, it will nourish... as it nourishes me. I want to share with you from my kitchen, from the little manna I collected today.

I don't consider myself in the league of Amy Carmichael or Charles Spurgeon, to be sure; but, I as I read their writings, I realize they too were just people. ...God likes to use men and women "just like us" (James 5:17)

So, I offer you here a bit of bread from my table... given to me from a "friend", Charles Spurgeon. I just must share!!

"The great Head of the Church is actively engaged in providing for his people. He does not sit down upon the throne in empty state, or hold a sceptre without wielding it in government. No, he stands and feeds (Micah 5:4). The expression "feeds" in the original, is like an analogous one in the Greek, which means to shepherd, to do everything expected of a shepherd; to guide, to watch, to preserve, to restore, to tend, as well as to feed. His reign is continual in its duration. It is said, "He shall stand and feed"; not "He shall feed now and then, and leave his position"; not, "He shall one day grant revival, and then next day leave his Church to barrenness." His eyes never slumber, and his hands never rest; his heart never ceases to beat with love, and his shoulders are never weary of carrying his people's burdens. Happy are we who belong to such a shepherd!"
(from Spurgeon's Morning and Evening Devotions)
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I also offer you my list. .. a continued list of counting my blessings, the multitude of graces that God gives to me each day. I am working my way to make a list of 1,000 gifts from God.

I count with others at "aholyexperience.com"... go to this beautiful site, explore other's lists, praise God and join the count!

#908. Sunshine
909. Dark, cold mornings
910. Warm heaters, warm old comfy sweaters.
911. Sermons that make me think and ask hard questions.
912. The beauty of creation... large and small.
913. Dates with my man!
914. The kids confident in being left home alone, while we go on a date.
915. Seeing obedience in our dog!
916. 40 birthday on a cake and being invited to join in the celebration.
917. What Christ has done for me... and is doing for me.
918. Snoring
919. Her excitement about her youth group.
920. Emails and friendship.
921. Messy morning hair.
926. Auto coffee maker.
927. Her improv on the piano--- just magical.

Food is Love

My sister-in-law has a sweet, funny saying or joke, "Food is love!" Well, this week, I have seen this love!!!

Again, tonight a warm meal arrived at my door at 6:00. In response to my recent operation and my recovery, our family is receiving daily love-gifts. Love comes to my door--- from my friends and neighbors in the beautiful, tangible form of food. Amazing. Humbling. Healthy, filling food. ...healthy, filling love on a plate.

Each week, I join a group of brothers and sisters in counting our way to 1,000 grace-gifts from a kind Father. We are attempting to see God and His gifts throughout our days--and to note them, count them. Each day Father brings "to my door" tangible, warm, amazing love gifts. He pours out daily grace gifts... and I am learning to see them more.

Here are a few on my list from these past two weeks:
#701. Happy kids

#702. Seeing his face as he gets off the train. He is home!

#704. She give him a bouquet of flowers... an offering of love.


#708. My tired man sleeps past his alarm. ...let him sleep, he needs it!

#711. He sits there in the hospital room for days. He reaches out to touch my head ...to let me know he is there.

#712. Hemmed in.

#718. A darling, kind nurse who calls me "darling".

#719. Prayer emails pour in... people are praying. What a blessing!

#721. Chicken soup made with love. Yummy love

#724. Nurses who give dignity even when all pride and modesty go out the window.

#727. Compassionate looks, sad eyes, tender touches from my children.

#728. Flowers dropped by.

#739. He sings to me, "I do all things well!"

#743. Breakfast conversations about deep things, real things, God things.

#746. Forced silenced, reflection, a laying down. Literally.

#747. She keeps checking on me, ...my sweet girl.

#752. Blue skies and dancing green trees outside my window.

#756. A walk in the rain.

#757. Quick forgiveness given. Asked. Given.

#763. He wanted to put my shoes on for me... even after I could do it for myself again.

Join the journey! Join the love feast at www.aholyexperience.com.

*to see more of my lists, more of my counting... just take a poke at the "thankfulness" label on the right hand side---------->