Loved Even More Than Birdie

Every day, without fail, he comes to the window.

How he knows I am awake or how long he has been watching for me... only God knows!  My little friend---Mr. Black Bird.  Or, "Birdie" as we fondly refer to him.

Early each morning, I stumble downstairs and find myself a glass of water.  First things first...I am just trying to wake up!  And, without fail, Birdie flies over to my kitchen window.  He turns his head left, then right, trying to see me more clearly... I think.  Then he chirps.  Sometimes silently, just an open mouth chirp, like you might imagine from a young bird opening to his mother.  Sometimes he offers some soft sound. He is coming for food.  Raisins, to be exact.  (I have offered him alternatives without success)  His early morning cheeky begging for raisins is one of my great joys each morning.  I can hardly express the happiness it gives me to see him fly over---almost like he is announcing, "You're here!".

I adore his "feed me" eagerness and persistence.  I can walk around the kitchen for half an hour and he will wait.  Turning his head left, then right.  Mouth open.  Waiting.  Expecting.  He knows...  He just knows I can't resist him.  Too cute for words.

This was the keen picture which came to my mind today.  I was praying and telling God how thankful I was for His grand abundance of provision in my life.  There is so much He has given me---eyes that work, ears that hear, feet that function, a roof keeping off this horrid rain, a warm bed, food in abundance, and so so much more.  How can I even begin to articulate the gifts of goodness the Lord provides!?  I was in a moment of profound gratefulness... when this clear image of Birdie popped into my mind.

As I was prayerfully curious about the picture, I could sense God wanting to show Himself--- His heart.  This.  This, Stephanie, is how I feel about you. 

Like a flash, I had the thought that God loves to give.  ...No, not only loves...   God loves AND delights to give His kids good gifts.  It makes Him thoroughly happy when we come to Him for our food.  When we daily look for Him, wait for Him, and when we expect good things from His hand.  The joy I feel when I feed Birdie--- this.  This is how God feels about us.  We can bring Him joy.  You and me.  The thought of bringing joy and delight to God is truly staggering; and, certainly Biblical.

"You are precious in my eyes.... and I love you." (Isaiah 43:4)

"God the Father will give good gifts to those who ask Him." (Matthew 7:11)

"The Lord Almighty will take great delight in you..." (Zephaniah 3:17)

The verses are endless.  If you look for the heart of God---Old Testament and New--- you will see the heart of love, delight, and determination on God's part to give goodness to His people.

Lord, thank You for your daily provision for me.  You give me so many things... and even "raisins" (what I like!).  Keep my heart ready and waiting for You each day.  May I run to Your word and wait in anticipation for Your filling and feeding.  You delight to give me good things!  Your food is my hearts greatest desire, I know.  Keep me eager and persistent and ever looking for it---and looking for You.  

Every day.  Without fail.  I want to come to you and wait expectantly.

Sit With Me

Below I offer you an un-edited re-post of a blog I wrote August, 2016.

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Take a load off.  Sit for a while.  Rest... 

Sabbath is really, really important to God.  Plain and simple.  He makes no bones about it.  His commandment of Sabbath is uber-important.  Reading through the Old Testament, it would be hard to miss this clear theme.

I was struck again with this idea when reading in Numbers 15.  Throughout the Old Testament, God offers, over and over, a 'way out' or an avenue for forgiveness from sin.  In this chapter, He enunciates the pathway for recovery and forgiveness for unintentional sin.  And, then, BAM... right in the middle of the passage, we read about the "Sabbath-Breaker" who is to be put out of the camp and stoned to death.  No restitution is offered.  There was no-way back from THIS sin.  What, Lord!?  

Sabbath is clearly really, really important to God.  I wouldn't even attempt to count how often He reiterates this truth in the Old Testament; but, indeed, He does again, and again.  

In Numbers 15, we are given clarity as to why this Sabbath-breaker is punished.  His sin was deliberate, Scripture tells us.  Rebellious.  He had contempt for God's commands.  "He has despised the word of the Lord." (Numbers 15:31)

But what was he actually rebelling against?  What was He despising exactly?  What was offensive to him... this condemned man?  A day-off!?  For Sabbath is a day of rest.  No work.  A day for worship. Quiet.  Why in the world would he (or we) rebel against that?  

(Now, let me just pause here and make very clear that I believe, as a child of God and one covered by the blood of Jesus, I am no longer under the law.  I know and believe that Christ died for intentional and unintentional sin!  And His blood covers all rebellion, curses, iniquity, and transgressions... and every thing in between.  ...just in case you were worried.   But, that doesn't lessen the reality of God's heart and character being the same today, yesterday and tomorrow. So, I also believe, this conversation is immensely important.)

So, why in the world would this man rebel against rest, quiet and no work?  

Or, more poignantly, what do I resist or despise the gift of Sabbath?  

Ezekiel 20: 12 says, "I gave them (a gift!) my Sabbath as a sign between me and them that they might know I am the Lord (note the why behind the giving) who sanctifies them." 

In Mark 2:27 Jesus reiterates this theme that Sabbath is for men--- a gift.  Made and given for us... for our benefit.  Not a legal law to remain under, but instead a gift to receive.  Or not.  

When reading and sitting with this idea, I was struck by the end of the Ezekiel verse--- I am the Lord who sanctifies them. I looked up the word sanctify and found this definition:  "the state of proper functioning".  In the Webster definition it adds, for clarity sake, "a pen is sanctified when it is used to write"

I wrote down in my journal:  "pens are sanctified when writing.  People are sanctified when used for the purpose God intends---living according to His design. People are sanctified when living with God."  Sabbath is part of our proper functioning as human beings.  Part of our very purpose here on earth is to rest, worship, and enjoy God!  It is what we are made for.  

When I don't live in the rhythm of Sabbath rest, I am living in an unnatural way.  A rebellious way.  It is anti-human to work non-stop.  Sabbath is clearly very important gift from God to man.  

Do I despise it?  Fight it?  And, if so, why?  

Just sit for a while and enter His rest.

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I re-post this as I pack up and head out for a 4 day silent, quiet retreat with God!!  ...I will sit and rest awhile, Lord.  I will receive Your gift to me!  

A Warm Place to Live

There is a place for me to live always.  I have a home.  It is a warm, inviting and cozy place.  It is settled.  Forever.

I hear the voice of God beckoning me home again and again.  Day after day.  Come and sit with me here.  Live with me.  In this place, you are home.  

Why is it I feel restless and homeless at times?  I need never feel unsettled or unsure.  Why is it that I ever worry or why do I let fear steal?  I need never be afraid.

Today, He reminds me again, that it is His will, His pleasure, and His determination that will redeem me and keep me.  It is He that holds me in His saving, righteous, strong hand.  (Isaiah 40: 10)

I need only abide.  Stay right here in Me.  Live in Me.  Walk every day in My presence.  

Abide.  Live.  Stay.  Remain.  I will abide in You, Lord.  Today, I remember.  

He tells me I can remain in the place that is always a home for me... His love.  (John 15:9)
His love, my warm home.

I wonder about house and home.  I look around me at the four walls and the roof that keep off the rain.  I do cherish these four walls---good gifts from You.  Thank you, Lord.

I feel the pains of this tent that can ache with age and are weighed down by the effects of gravity.  I do cherish this tent---wonderfully made by You.  Thank you, Lord.  

No.  Not these places.  This house.  This body... this body is not my home.

I wonder and find myself curious about the future---all the unknown about tomorrow.   I wonder about tomorrow's tomorrow.

He says,  I will never leave you.  Draw near to Me.  Live in My love. 

Yes, Lord, You have been our dwelling place, for generations.  (Psalm 90:1)

This is the place I live.  Your Love is my home.  My always home---right now.  And, yes, it is indeed a warm and cozy place to live.

Feeling Empty

I just didn't have it this morning.  I felt empty.  Lacking.

I woke up seriously lacking.  Lacking energy.  Lacking joy.  Out of sorts and out of whack,  I certainly didn't have it this morning.  Grace.  Love.  Peace.  Joy.  I didn't have any of it for myself, let alone for anyone else.

The morning habit of "the chair" always draws me... sometimes with excitement and anticipation, often simply out of discipline and habit.  At some silly-o-clock every morning, my alarm sings.  I wake.  I stumble down stairs and drink my glass of water.  And, then I go to my chair...  Habit.  Good daily habits. What a gift!

Bible.  Journal.  Prayer App.  Worship Music.  ...all tools I might use in my chair.  This day I just sat there, half awake, staring into the space in front of me.  How long did I just stare into the room? Looking but not seeing.  Just sitting.

I could scarcely hear the whisper waft my way... was it from my habit, was it from my Lord?...  Either way, I could hear a whisper:  the Word.  

The Word, Stephanie.  A still small voice reminding me to pick up God's word.  With automatic obedience, I lifted my bible and my journal from where they live in the basket next to the chair.

Opening the Bible, the red cloth book marker directed me where to place my eyes on the page.  Good thing for that marker!  Without it I may have just stared for more time into the nothingness.  Following the marker's direction, I found my place and I read.  Almost from the first word, from the pulsating life which lives within the very letters on this majestic page, I could feel a surge.  Truth.  I could feel the truth in the words I was reading.  None of the Words were new.  I have read them a thousand times, to be sure.  In fact, I had read the very same words yesterday.  But, again today, they were fresh with life.  Ah, the Word of God does wonders for the soul! 

As Scripture awakened my mind, my heart and my soul...  I began to see a bit more of me.  It took time.  A thawing was beginning as I read word after word.

Finally words from within me began to emerge.  The first words I scribbled in my journal said, "I just don't have it today."

I just don't have it, Lord.  I am seriously lacking.  

As if God is surprised by this confession, right?  He is well aware of our need for Him.  He knows I am lacking.  I am always lacking...

Yes, I know, Stephanie.  So, now that you know, ask Me for exactly what you need.   

What did I need from God?  Today.  What was my need.  Oh.  So much!  I need grace, Lord.  I need love today, Lord!  I don't have it.  I don't have it for me.  I don't have it for anyone else.  

Truth washed over my mind like a flood.  I have both in abundance.  I am Love.  I am rich in grace.  And, I live IN you.  

In You...  abundance.  richness and fullness.  

I could feel the boldness growing.  Yes, I can ask for exactly what I need!  Yes, my God is rich in mercy.  I need joy, Lord... Oh man, I am really not feeling the joy, Lord!  Can I have more joy today, please? And, oh, I'm seriously needing peace and definitely patience...  I need so much, Lord.  

In the dark, cold morning, I was warmed by His invitation.  My Spirit lives in You.  My fullness.  Love.  Joy.  Peace. Patience... all I am, accessible to you.  Always.  A living stream of life and truth is welling within you, because I live in you.  I dwell in you.  You have everything you need.  Everything.  In Me.  Ask me... and then wait and see!  

Truly, I walked away from my chair with more joy and peace.  I asked and He answered.  I could feel Him giving me what I needed for the day.  Enough.  I always have enough in Him.  I simply needed to ask and receive.  Bread enough for my today.

I didn't have it this morning.  But, my God does and He loves to give the good gift of His Spirit to His children.  (Luke 11:13)

"Whoever believes in Me, as Scripture has said, rivers of living water will flow from within them. He was speaking of the Spirit..."  (John 7:38, 39)

What is Your Kryptonite?

My kryptonite is "making mistakes" or "doing it wrong"*.

I know, to some personalities, this sounds absurd...  "We all make mistakes", you might say.  All the time everyone makes mistakes, right?  But, for me, even the smallest of mistakes can bring a shame storm of hurricane proportions which ravages my soul.

Other personalities have other kryptonite... for some its vulnerability or powerlessness.  For others, their weak spot is being misunderstood, or a broken relationship, or conflict.  My kryptonite is doing it wrong.

Like Superman, the moment I become aware of my misstep, my soul begins to writhe in pain and I struggle for strength or breath.   Like a green death rock, the mistake is chained around my neck and I can hardly think straight.  I know this sounds overly dramatic.  ...but, it really isn't.  Do you know that feeling of shame?  The hot pouring shame that makes you shake inside and out... call it embarrassment, call it guilt, call it anger (it looks so many shades of green).  Shame seems to take over, ransacking the limbic system of our brain and shutting down the prefrontal cortex that helps us to think rightly!

Whatever your kryptonite is... whatever triggers the shame for you, we all know that hot, breathless place where we either want to fight, freeze or fly away.  In the midst, you just want to disappear... "crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head... go to sleep and never wake up" (exactly how I used to describe it as a teenager).

Well, yes... I do make mistakes all the time... just like everyone else!  And recently, to add insult to injury, I have been making a lot of mistakes.  I mean, a lot.  From small, "nothing" mistakes... to pretty big, significant mistakes... I have been tripping over my own two feet for a few weeks now.

The last mistake was five keys off the right note--- singing in front of a group of people at our town's Open Mic night (another effort in my life to be brave and have fun).  We had planned the song in one key... but, printed the song sheets in a totally (5 key different!) key.  Hmmm...  Yeah, it didn't go so well, as you can imagine.

After sitting down, I could feel the hot shame-filled bucket pour over my head.  I began to shake.  Anger.  Tears welling.  I wanted to disappear... run away, hide under that table.  All I could think was "Never again!!"  Never. Never. Again.  I won't put myself in this position again.  THIS is what brave brings! Never!

The storm lasted in and out through the whole evening, following me into my restless sleeping.  Tossing in the night, I would awake and literally put my hands over my face--- hiding from whom exactly?!?  Myself.  God?    Tossing and turning, I would groan.

I do understand that for some of you reading this, you may think it a bit odd...  why would the wrong note sung in a song bring such pain?  But, weren't we all a bit confused and watched in disbelief when Lex Luthor would chain up Superman with a green rock!  What?  Come on, Superman, it's just a glowing green rock!

Remember, mistakes are my kryptonite.

In the midst of it all, and through the whole night, here and there I also became aware of a still, very small voice that whispered an invitation.  I remember barely hearing its faint words... and almost completely ignoring it... just as I sat down.  After the song finished and I sat---right as the bucket of shame splashed around me at the table when I sat down, I heard it.  It was so quiet.  Almost in the distance...

A still small whisper...  There is another way.  

Stephanie, there is another way.

As I have been prayerfully processing my weeks of wrongs and my discomfort, I have been asking Father about this other way.  Is it another way to sit in or feel shame?  Is it another way to respond entirely to mistakes or doing wrong?  What is the other way, Lord?  

I am certain the answer isn't that I won't have kryptonite----or any weakness.  (Although that would be fabulous!)  For, I know, in my weakness, He is strong!  So, nope... perfection isn't an option.  (Dang it!)

Now, I am asking God to continue to show me the other way of reacting or a new way of seeing Mr. Luthor... What is the other way, Lord, while the kryptonite is being chained around my neck? 

Just for fun... have a gander at the clip of old---bring back childhood memories:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OkSaAhbceBk



*For those who know the Enneagram tool, I am a One.  

Rugged, rough places in My Soul

I felt deep sadness.  I know his words were not meant to hurt.  He would never intentionally want to hurt me, I know this.  But, instantly, I could feel the pain welling.  The tears rose, slowly brimming at the edge---threatening to spill over.  Later, in the quietness and stillness of the morning hours, I could let them pour forth.  Sadness.  Just deep, profound sadness.  

Learning to stay curious about my emotions has been life changing.  I am so grateful for this gift.  

Why, Lord?  Not an intellectual question, as such... but, a soul question.  A question of wonder, awe, and simple curiosity.  I am asking God, the One who knows and sees all, to show me to me.  

Why, Lord?  Why did his words pain me so?  

It's old... deep, and old.  

Old, past wounds were surfacing with the simple scratch of his now words.  They touched something deep.  They touched a young me.  They hurt.  Not because he was hurting me.  They hurt because there was a painful spot, deep within, that was being poked.  Call it scars.  Call it a sore spot.  His words touched something before...  

But, we've looked at these many times, Lord.  

Yes, many, many times.  

So, why is this coming up again?  Why, Lord?  It feels so fresh.  Show me, Lord.  Show me, me.  

My life is dripping with abundance.  Truly.   So, why this sadness today?  It's not about today.

I asked and I sat.  I cried and I prayed.  I journaled.  I picked up the Scriptures and He opened my eyes, again, to His big, grand why-plan...  

In Isaiah 40, God speaks so tenderly to the heart of His people.  He tells them to be comforted. Comfort, comfort we hear Him say.  What comes in the next section surprised me and jumped off the page at me today...   They can be comforted because their sin is forgiven AND because..."Every valley shall be raised up.  Every mountain will be made low.  Every rugged and crooked place straight.  The rough places will be made a plain."(Isaiah 40:4)

This is WHY... this is the why-plan God is activating in my life as I stay curious about my painful, wounded past hurts.  

The truth is, in all of us---every. single. one.--- there are valley places, crooked places, and rough places in our souls.  He loving heart is to smooth us out.  He is clearing out the debris.  He is straightening out the wrong, bent parts of me.  Making me... inside me... a straight, plain place.  He is making me a green pasture.  

The words said to me this morning were not meant to hurt me, I know that.  They were innocent words that happened to fall upon a crooked place in me.  In the quiet and the stillness of moments with God, I can visit those crooked, bent places and have a look.  With Him, I can look intently at the pain.  I see the data point that is my strong, painful emotions.  I stay curious and ask the Spirit of the Lord, who knows all things, to show to me, myself.  And, I trust His work to raise up those valleys.  

Have Your good and loving way in me, Lord!  

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

Photo source

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

photo source

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.