Love letter to Jesus

 

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We love because He first loved us…….1 John 4:19

I thought of all these different titles for this post and none was right. Because this really is a love letter to Jesus. I am speaking to Him now out of the gratitude and the knowledge that He has not forgotten His daughter and never will. Never has.

Dear precious Lord:

Forgive me for forgetting at times how much you really love me. This morning I sat as my David Nevue spun peace into the morning, in the quiet. I wondered how it is that it’s become harder for me to pray. Could be I am just trying too hard? Sometimes all it takes is some remembering. Or maybe I just need to sit and listen. 

I read the story of the prodigal son and I watched some of the Jesus Film project where you walked by the Sea of Galilee and called your disciples and saw your face light up as you called Simon and Nathaniel, John and all the rest, and I remembered that you called me too.

And like Nathaniel, you saw me under all the fig trees of my life. Isn’t that what we all really need? To know that we are seen and known by a God who loves us. Nothing I really worry about in this life will amount to a hill of beans in eternity. All that will matter is how I loved. And how you love me. Through every day, every joy and deepest heartache and mistake of my life, you’ve seen me and you still love me: 

I heard John the Baptist quoting Isaiah saying, “Make straight a highway in the desert for our God”…..And I thought of my own time in the desert. That verse always makes me cry because I have stood where only cactus grew and felt the scorching heat and I have imagined I heard that lone voice……You are no less a Presence here. Like the Israelites in the desert, your Holy Spirit goes wherever I go. I may not always feel you the way I think I should, but I know you are here. The same Presence that has lifted David soul out of the mire has delivered mine more times that I can count. 

Thank you for the assurance of knowing that every little thing that concerns me concerns You too. Sometimes I forget. I guess what I am trying to tell you is that all I really need to do is fall in love with you all over again, every day. And by that I don’t mean in a husband way like some of those praise songs say, because you are God after all. 

The thing is, You still have the cure for whatever ails us. You are still the Healer. Thank you for giving strength to my weary bones and filling all the hurting places with your gentle Presence. Help me to do what is in my power to love my neighbor but also remember that with that comes the first part of the command, to love myself as well.

Love always, your girl down here.

A highway in the desert

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“The spiritual function of fierce terrain…is to bring us to the end of ourselves, to the abandonment of language and the relinquishment of ego. A vast expanse of jagged stone, desert sand, and towering thunderheads has a way of challenging all the mental constructs in which we are tempted to take comfort and pride, thinking we have captured the divine. The things that ignore us save us in the end.”~ Belden Lane in THE SOLACE OF FIERCE LANDSCAPES (buy it on Amazon,  it’s worth it)

A voice is calling, “Clear the way for the LORD in the wilderness; Make smooth in the desert a highway for our God.” Isaiah 40:3

“Nature never taught me that there exists a God of glory and of infinite majesty. I had to learn that in other ways. But nature gave the word “glory” a meaning for me. I still do not know where else I could have found one.” C.S. Lewis

A person can have a profound encounter with God anywhere, because God is everywhere; but my time in the desert taught me something I don’t think I could have learned any other way. There is a quiet majesty and power there that speaks in the silence. There is a holiness in the sudden rain that comes after the merciless scorching heat of the summer. That rain feels like grace.

The extremity of its character alone simutaneously punishes and rewards like the pillar of smoke and fire God showed up in while guiding the Israelites through the desert. It says, like God, “Keep your eyes on me and you will get through this and reach the promised land. Take your eyes off the trail to your own destruction.”

The desert is just that drastic and following the rules leads to life or death too. In order to live in the desert, you have to obey some very simple rules:

Never find yourself without water.

Know which snakes and insects are poisonous and which ones are harmless.

If you get stuck in the middle of a dust storm while driving turn your headlights off.

The vastness and stark beauty of it makes one feel very small and vulnerable in a way similar to being in the ocean where you can’t see land. Or caught in a thunderstorm in the Sierras.  You wonder how any species could survive, plant or animal, yet somehow they do. The quail lead their microscopic chicks straight out of the nest and along the rocky ground. Sometimes they start with ten and end up with three.

And in the summer it feels like a place of death. You run from one building to the next, you look for the one shady spot someone just pulled out of. And summer seems to last forever. And then one morning in November you are rewarded with coolness and it’s like being born again.

I believe there is a reason for the wandering in the desert and not anywhere else. The harsh landscape makes it easier to know you depend solely on Him, and that goes for physical wandering and also the other kind; when you’re wandering in the “dry spells and deserts of life.”

But there is always hope in every kind of desert you may find yourself in. That in time, He will bring you to the other side. The cactus wil bloom again, life will appear where there was none. You will feel the cool breeze once again and know that you have made it through.

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Tea and toast and self preservation

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Yesterday I fought through my route, feeling sick. I felt better at the end of the day but today I awoke still feeling puny. I needed a day for tea and toast. I am washed out, washed up. Stressed. I am so very blessed. Elaine made me scrambled eggs and bacon and my Zen tea. The kind I used to get at the Intel cafe when my life was ordered and predictable. Today I am missing my old uncomplicated life. From a distance the stress I had there seems minute.

It was a beautiful weekend at the ocean, in one of our favorite places. It didn’t disappoint…..it never does. Moss Landing is a little fishing village along the Pacific coast by Monterey, California. There is no shopping, and only one hotel. Nothing to do but eat at Iconic Phil’s Fish Market and walk for miles on the beach. It was just what we needed.

And, after hemming and hawing with my finger on the “Book Now” button on my IPhone for an hour, I decided to do something I have wanted to do for years, I went on a whale watching charter. After I got over the strange reaction from the motion sickness patch the night before, we headed out at 7:00 AM the next morning. And we were rewarded with whales! They didn’t get as close as I thought, but we saw them. And I didn’t get sick. On the way out I wanted to hear John Denver’s, “Calypso” played loud over the speakers.

The sea was rolling and some fog swallowed us up for a time, but it was magical to be in their playground.

Our last day we had another lunch at Phil’s looking out over the Pacific. We collected a few shells and bits of seaglass before packing up and heading home. We were greeted with warmer temperatures when we got there. At last we were settled in. I called my Mom and her voice was tight with stress.

Then I got the horrible text that I didn’t deserve and that I wasn’t expecting. Welcome home……Can I go back to the ocean please?

And I have been sick for two days. Yesterday, I quit fighting and took a day off  and went back to bed. Some days you have to take care of yourself and let others take care of you. Last night I crawled into the peaceful magic back space in the Motorhome with my book and fell into a dreamless sleep. I awoke to “Dinner’s Ready” and the sound of Amazing Grace playing on the smooth jazz station where we have never heard it played before.

Sometimes God gives you exactly what you need right when you need it.

I am guarding my heart today and yet I hope God will show me how to keep it open enough to extend grace. I am learning that protecting myself is okay.

 

Under the Grace

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“Grace is free only because the Giver himself has borne the cost” Philip Yancey

“Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery it is. In the boredom and pain of it, no less than in the excitement and gladness: touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it, because in the last analysis all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace.” Frederick Buechner

Sometimes grace slips in unannounced, quietly without fanfare. The thing about Grace is, it’s always there, just like God is always there.  As believers we know we are steeped in God’s grace through Jesus’ redemptive work on the cross. It can also be hard to get a handle on. How can we really fathom the grace that showers down on us even while we are sleeping. Grace is active and living. It’s an offshoot of God’s great love and mercy. Sometimes it’s so big it’s hard to get a handle on.

Years ago I used to listen to a radio commentator named Barry Farber. He had some sayings, one I never forget: “It’s like trying to hit a phantom with a cream pie.” Grace is kind of like that to me sometimes. It’s invisible but always there. And as soon as I take it for granted, it slips away again. Yet it’s still there waiting in the wings, waiting for me to actively acknowledge it.

When we say about someone, “There but for the grace of God go I” we are acknowledging that we could at any given time, find ourselves in circumstances like whoever we were talking about. While we are correct in that assumption, we are also a little misguided because we are kind of implying that person must not have grace in their life, or they must not have as much as we have. See what I am saying?

God made it possible to never lose sight of the grace we are standing under by looking to Calvary. Then it all makes perfect sense.

On my playlist is a song called, “Under the Grace” by Phil Keaggy. I had heard it first about 25 years ago and I scoured the internet until I found it. Certain music just brings you back from the brink, and his was one of the recordings that did it for me long ago. He is known as a brilliant guitarist but it was his voice and the words to this song that brought grace home to me again this morning. (You can find it on YouTube)

I am humbled by Grace this morning. How about you?

“For it is by grace you have been saved through faith–and this is not from yourselves , it is the gift of God –not by works, so that no one can boast.” Ephesians 2:8-9

Evening Falls

 

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Every moment and every event of every man’s life on earth plants something in his soul……..Thomas Merton

I am trying to learn this: When words are few, there is a reason and a purpose for it. At least that’s what I am telling myself. There was a time not so long ago that my words poured out almost effortlessly. Not anymore. I know it’s a season I am going through and I don’t know if it will last for another month or a year or even more. I am resting in His timing, trying not to force words that aren’t there.

This evening I told myself I would come out here and write whatever came, whatever sounds I heard. Just now, the sun is slipping away to another part of the world giving way to a cool evening and a colder night. I am drinking Tazo Zen tea, the kind I used to drink on my work afternoons with a drop of honey and milk. I thought that might spark something creative.

The Mockingbird has stopped singing and now I hear the drowsy growl of a small plane overhead. That makes me think of fishing when I was a kid, and BBQ potato chips and a rocking boat and water lapping against the side. I didn’t really fish I just went along. I remember the sky being so very blue.

It’s beautiful here now, like living inside a Haiku poem. California in Spring, especially in the foothills is very close to Tolkien’s Hobbiton. On our drive there the other day it wouldn’t have surprised me to see Bilbo and Gandalf on a stroll or sitting on the side of a hill blowing smoke rings as they puffed their pipe-weed.

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And the other day I found a perfect nest. I was walking up from the river and I saw a big dark object laying at the foot of the trees. I looked all over and didn’t see any baby birds or eggs, thankfully. I carried it like a trophy, it was such a marvel I didn’t know what to do with it. I wanted to preserve the miracle, for that’s what it was (is) to me. How a bird could design something so incredible and engineer something from nothing is beyond me. It’s just God, that’s all.

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So, my friends if you are still reading, “Good on ya!” I am thankful for anyone and everyone who has been keeping up with me on this blog. It’s a Grace journey we are all on. Along with Thomas Merton, I believe that everything we go through here serves some kind of purpose.

My tea has gone cold in the mug and the mosquito’s are out. I wish the bats would come and eat them all. It’s about time for them to come out. The birds have gone quiet now, all tucked away on their secure boughs. Time to go for now.

Evening falls once again…….It is well with my soul even when words don’t come.

The Gift of a Good Day

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I may not always be able to find joy but I can always find gratitude and that makes me grateful.

Yesterday was a good day. Elaine’s brother Bobby came with his truck and trailer and we got to clear a path down by the little Art Gallery/Prayer Closet. The downed tree made such a mess, and it is still laying there like the dead tree it is but at least now with some of the wood hauled off and branches cleaned up we can sit in our chairs and enjoy the fire pit (which the tree also managed to miss except for a small dent in the screen which E pounded out). It was a very generous thing he did and we all had fun working together. Aunt Mayvis and I worked on the hill and Bobby and Elaine worked down below with chainsaws. Then we went to the Dump which is always an adventure. Afterward we went to Der Weinerschnitzel and put back all the calories we burned off I’m sure. (Maybe not)

At around 4:30 I rushed to the library before it closed and got the next two books in the “Time Quintet” by Madeleine L’Engle. They have provided me with just the escape I have needed the past week. A nice kid let me right to them. Afterwards I went to the new little neighborhood grocery we found and I got some Blue Moon beer, because sometimes you just need a beer after a good day’s work. They have a little of everything in that store and the clerks are friendly.

At around 12:30 this morning my mind was running like a Superhighway. All the tasks for the coming week were on parade, and all my fears and anxieties marched right along behind them. I got up to read “A Wind in the Door” awhile until I could get back to sleep.

Shortly after 6:00 am I crept out in the cold and dark to pray and just sit in the silence. I sat and listened to the hiss of the little heater with the sound of the river as the background. I have found that when you don’t know how to start praying, the best place to start is gratitude. So I listed my thanks. The challenge of the past year has made a dent in my joy but to my relief I still can always manage to find my gratitude.

On the way back up, the neighbor cat waited and watched for me and I paused on the step and listened to a beautiful bird call I have never heard before. I wish I knew what kind of bird it was. Maybe there is a phone App for that, like Shazam for birdcalls.

Now the sky is coloring like those plastic play balls you see at the grocery store in the bins. Briggs is sleeping contentedly at my side. He has rolled right along with us the past year and adjusted very well. We have asked a lot of him.

My coffee has gone cold. Time for a reheat and then it’s a new day.

Praise God from whom all blessings flow.

Looking Up in 2017

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Hope in Me, and you will be protected from depression and self-pity. Hope is like a golden cord connecting you to Heaven. The more you cling to this cord, the more I bear the weight of your burdens; thus you are lightened. Heaviness is not of My Kingdom. Cling to hope, and My rays of Light will reach you through the darkness.” Sarah Young, Jesus Calling

Now may the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you will abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” Romans 15:13

As Jesus and His disciples were walking by the temple one day, one of them remarked on how beautiful it was. I can see Jesus glancing at it, maybe nodding in agreement, then saying (Message version) “All this you’re admiring so much–the time is coming when every stone in that building will end up in a heap of rubble.” Then He goes on to explain just how bad things will get before He comes back and sets everything to rights. At first glance that might seem like a real joy-killer, but then He says at the end of Luke 21, “Look up, for your redemption draws near.”

It’s easy to despair looking at the events of the world around us. And I’m only thinking of the things that happened this past week! It’s easy to forget how to look at the world through the lens of  wonder, filtering out all the anxiety and dread about what will happen next. But Jesus doesn’t just tell us to buck up, or think beautiful thoughts. He points us to Himself. He is our ultimate hope and the hope of the world.

Sometimes He reminds us of this in the simplest of ways. The other morning I took a walk down by the river and the neighbor cat decided to tag along. I watched as she sprang ahead, leaping with a wild joy as she chased blowing leaves. She high-stepped it, and shaking her feet at the wet grass she almost tripped me by running across my feet. I have to admit, I got caught up in her playfulness.

Why do we humans complicate everything so much? Why do we eat ourselves up with worry? On Friday night I lamented that I was worried about finding a new stop on my route. My wise friend said, “You’re not driving it today.” Then I said something else and she repeated, “You’re not driving it tomorrow either, or Sunday.” I was robbing my moments of peace which I do repeatedly.

As I continued my walk, camera in hand, I got several cute shots of the cat comedienne. I laughed and caught the wonder again through my camera lens. I looked up at the sky peeking through the trees. I need to do more of this, I thought. I walked back up and then smiled all over again when I downloaded the pictures to the computer.

This quote by Frederick Buechner kind of sums up my thoughts today:

Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery it is. In the boredom and the pain of it, no less than the excitement and gladness: touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it, because in the last analysis all moments are key moments and life itself is grace. Frederick Buechner, Now and Then: A Memoir of Vocation

I plan on re-doubling my efforts to keep looking up during the course of the coming year. I plan to remember how to live in wonder at the world around me, and letting Jesus be my filter. I will fail sometimes, of that I have no doubt. But sometimes I will succeed.