The Home within us

The wind howls this morning, even worse than yesterday. It strips the blossoms from the Palo Verde trees and they pile up like yellow snow-banks against the curbs.

It does its job, tells us it’s there by knocking things around out in the yard. It puts everyone in an unsettled mood, even the animals. I thought maybe I would skip prayer, but then how could I do that? Prayer is talking to God and wasn’t I just doing that when I thanked Him for another day off? When I thanked Him for the last two?

More than a set time each day, it’s become part of the fabric of my being, because somewhere along the line I realized there is not ever a moment when I don’t need Him. That might sound weak, but only if you don’t realize how big He is. ………..only if you are under the false assumption that you can do this life successfully without Him. I let that delusion go awhile back. And I realized that was the beginning of what God calls wisdom.

Our days flow by like poetry. Some of it sticks. The moments you want to keep you hold onto. It’s why we forget whole blocks of poetry and songs and movies, but you always remember that one scene, that one line, that one tune. A bird squawks outside and for a moment the wind stops. I pause and read:

1 Thessalonians 5:16: “Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus. This is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus…….all those times I asked that very question and it was right here all the time, the anchor verse that rests on everything else.

Dorothy had the power to go home all along, she just forgot the power those red shoes had, kind of like what we do as Christians when we forget that His home is within us.

It’s simple math. Kind of like the person who searches here and there for just the right diet, the secret to losing weight, the magic formula. Here it is, are you ready? Eat less than you burn up. Eat the foods God created you for. Get up and move, because our bodies were made for that, not for sitting in office chairs 12 hours a day.

Pray always. God wants to hear from you in the little everyday moments. That fact alone is what keeps me in a state of wonder every time I think of it. That the King of everything wants……..me.

When God sounds a lot like your Mom

Fresh off a morning commute, shouldering my bag, my backpack, everything necessary to supply me with what I might need for a 12 hour day. Grumbling a bit in my head, wishing I were home to enjoy the beautiful morning from my patio instead of spending it in a room without windows. I heard it……it was the voice I always hear when I hear birds sing.

I hear it especially when I am feeling a bit of regret, or sadness, or feeling a bit sorry for myself. It was my Mom’s voice I heard. And it knocked me for a loop because I had always thought that voice was God’s, but that day, I clearly heard hers.

“But the birds are singing, Lori.” Just that one sentence. Because I know what it costs her to hear them no matter what. My Mom doesn’t have an easy chair life. I have covered that before here in this blog. Though she is 85 she is up with the chickens. Already serving, praying, looking to Him for strength.

It’s hard to imagine just how deep a Mom’s love can go, but I found out a little bit more when I was home last. She was cleaning out the cedar chest, and as each item was lifted out she told the story that went along with it. Among the old report cards and drawings there was a broom I had made out of pine-needles held together with masking tape. “To clean up our camp,” she said. She cradled each item like prized artifacts.

Then, she lifted up a summer jumpsuit in white. I had forgotten all about it. I could hear her grief all over again as she said, “This is what you came home from Mexico in.” She paused. Where I had faced the biggest grief of my life and hers, for a child’s sorrow is double for the parent. “I had expected you to look half-dead and instead you looked like a beautiful angel.”

As I get older, I see more of her in me. There are things we do just alike. Shape meatloaf for one. We don’t just slap it in a pan, we mix it, and shape it and mold it. And when we look in a mirror, we arrange our faces just so.

And we have a built-in desire to set about making a place homey. She and I bring wineglasses throw-rugs and coffee makers to campsites.

The way we always try to deflect a compliment.

Most of all, what holds our days and our hearts together like a ribbon is prayer. She taught me that.

This day is a day to honor Mother’s everywhere, and I honor her. I thank God for her everyday, that I still have her. I am also aware that there are many for whom this day holds much sadness.

It’s a day they grieve what they never had, or what they had and lost. Mother’s Day was always hard for my Mom. Her Mom wasn’t ever able to give what she needed most. She withheld love and affection, and compliments, though she gave other things.

And today we will see Elaine’s Mom, and that will be hard. We may or may not take her out to lunch. We will see how it goes. With Alzheimer’s you have to be ready for anything.

Mother’s Day has always been fraught with difficulty for her too. Her Mom was never there as a Mom should be. The other day she held up a card at the store with a weight on her shoulders. “This day is always so difficult.” She picked up the one with puppies, “Yes,” we said, “puppies are safe.”

Sometimes Mother’s Day means losing the Mother you never had, and that’s like a double grief isn’t it? But even in that, there is redemption. Because when you allow God to fill you with His grace, you can then hand that out to others. Even others you never received it from.

Today, as I lift up thanks for my own Mom, I pray for all those for whom this day is hard. I pray that God will wash you in His grace and wrap you in His great love.

And listen………for when you hear the birds sing, it’s always God disguised as your Mom.

Spiritual Misfit (no book giveaway, I’m keeping mine thank you!)

After all, that’s what grace is, isn’t it? The ultimate do-over. The infinite second chance. God gives us another chance, and another and another. Day in and day out. He works with us, he works through us, he does not give up on us. Michelle DeRusha

Michelle DeRusha dared to ask one question and it turns out that one question, “Why Not Believe?” was all God needed to crack a window of hope in her soul and launch her on a spiritual quest that ultimately found her surrounded by God’s love and grace.

I was deeply touched by the humility, honesty and laugh out loud humor that I found on every page of this book. If I ever met Michelle personally, I would want to hug her just for the Cheezit story alone!

Growing up Protestant in the Evangelical Church of the 1970’s Jesus Generation, my experiences were a bit different from Michelle’s. God was not distant for me, in fact He seemed to be everywhere I turned. You might not think of California as having its own Bible Belt, but it did. In my hometown there was just about a church on every corner and we went every Sunday, sometimes Sunday nights as well. I have early memories of talking to God like some kids talk to imaginary friends. I even had a glow in the dark plastic Jesus that I kept on my windowsill. There was something reassuring about that florescent glow.

I honestly don’t remember a time in my life when I had a serious doubt about whether God existed or if He heard my prayers. I also know that it’s nothing short of a miracle of His grace, surely not as a result of anything I ever did right. My doubts came cloaked in the form of fear. Fear of what would happen if I really let go and let God. I was the kid clinging to the side of the swimming pool even as my Dad held out his arms saying, “I am here to catch you, just let go!”

The church I grew up in was a bit on the restrictive side. Deep down, I always felt like I didn’t quite fit with what I perceived to be the “Baptist Mold” I saw others conforming to. I didn’t go to Church camp because secretly, I was afraid. In my head there was this social performance meter going on and I was convinced that if I went, I would fail some sort of test. I might have really enjoyed it, but now I will never know.

Every now and then, I went to certain “youth gatherings” and I always dreaded when the awful games would start. The ones that were supposed to be fun. I will never forget the one where we all lined up, boy-girl-boy-girl each with a tooth-pick between our trembling lips, passing life-savers from mouth to mouth. I was mortified. To a girl who was extremely self-conscious about her bad complexion it was traumatic. The life-saver was red, even all these years later I still remember that, and that the boy’s shaky upper lip was covered in blond whiskers.

The Pastor of our church didn’t believe in clapping or applause after a good musical performance, or talk, or anything, and the older members clearly were not comfortable with any of the new modern translations of the Bible, for them Jesus spoke in the King James version only. I do believe if He had shown up in the middle of our service, they would have wanted Him to shower, shave and change into a suit.

What I loved most about Spiritual Misfit, is the way Michelle relates the story. I felt like I was right there with her on the plains of Nebraska, and in seeing her, I recognized myself. I saw again how He blesses us when we are not afraid to ask Him the questions, when we crack the door of our heart open just enough. Just enough, is all He needs. Augustine said that to search for God is to have found God. I think there is some truth to that.

It goes without saying that I heartily recommend this book. As I finished, I found myself kneeling by my bedside in tears, wrapped in His grace, I thanked Him for being with me on my own journey and for being with Michelle on hers. I thought of all the times I have failed Him, stumbled, fallen, left the trail, flailed in the middle of the pool, only to see Him right there waiting where I left off.

And with a smile and an arm around my shoulders, He says, “Welcome back my child,” And we set out again.

Company on the Trail

“Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop away from you like the leaves of Autumn.” John Muir, The Mountains of California

When I got up this morning the wind chimes were clanging again, and the patio umbrella trembled in its stand. Yesterday, some of the neighbor’s roof shingles had stuck up straight like a bad comb-over. Today I guess the wind had shifted because they were back down flat, but it was going to be another windy day.

I wasn’t going to go to the mountain, but sometimes you can’t let the weather stop you. I needed my little slice of nature such as the desert can provide. I parked the car and crunched up the trail, once again so glad I shelled out the money for Merrill boots. The gravel and sharp stones on the desert trail can be merciless on shoes. In good shoes you can let your feet do what they were meant to do and you worry less about slipping.

As I walked I felt the familiar buoyancy, my soul untethering itself. It’s a bit like coming home, the trail is. It doesn’t look a bit like the trails of my childhood, there are no pine trees here as there are high up in the Sierra Nevada but somehow it doesn’t matter. That’s the thing about hiking. Each trail is really an echo of the one before it and they all eventually join each other.

Hikers know this.

As I walk, I find myself thinking about the wind and how sometimes it can be a Holy thing to go out and join up with the weather when it’s less than perfect. Harnessing ourselves to something uncontrollable is what we do when we give God control of our lives. The Holy Spirit can make you do some unpredictable things. Like one minute you’re minding your own business listening to Michael W. Smith sing “Majesty” and the next minute you are kneeling on the kitchen floor with your hands in the air.

The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit.”

As I walk on, I pause along the way and look at some things close up. A bird’s nest tucked inside the arms of a spiny bush, a scraggly tree covered in miniature purple orchid-like blooms. I relax into the rhythm of my footfall and find myself thinking of my Dad. He taught me that if you are really quiet, nature will talk to you. He also taught me that while nature should always be respected, it should never be feared.

He also taught me the wild freedom of peeing in the woods and that it’s okay to blow your nose right out there in the open, even if you’re a girl. The wilderness gives you permission to do things you’d never do anywhere else.

Another thing about the trail, it sets your mind free to meander down its own path. Somehow the conversations you never find time for at home, you can find time for on the trail; almost as if it’s safe to take them out since you know the trees and rocks and birds don’t listen.

Or maybe they do.

Sometimes the trail brings surprises too, in the form of friends who meet you there. Thank you E! You showing up was the perfect end to the hike, I had no idea you were there!

Jesus with a cane

“Let’s turn down this street,” she said, “I want to show you someone’s house and I won’t even have to tell you which one it is.” First of all, I need to preface this by saying the lady is of German descent. Now, I was raised in a town pretty made up of Germans from North Dakota and one of their characteristics was extreme cleanliness. In the days before all the water restrictions they would hose their driveways and sidewalks until they glistened. That goes for the garage too. I am pretty sure some of these people watched out the window for stray leaves that never had a chance to land on the perfectly sculpted lawns.

Anyway, I digress and she was right. I picked out the house right away. Nary a rock out-of-place. (Not many lawns here)

On the way home, we passed a man leaning on a cane talking on a cell phone. Before I go any further, I must tell you that my friend is like a dolphin when it comes to finding people who need help. She has a built-in radar for people and situations that others just never take the time to see. I can’t tell you how many times we have been to the store and she asks me, “Did you see that lady? She looks confused, I think she might have lost her car.”

My answer is usually, “Let’s do another loop around the lot. We’ll see if she finds it, or him, or whatever it is she lost.”

So last night she said, “Should I ask him if he’s alright?” I said, “Well, he was talking to someone on a cell phone.” We drove back by and she asked him if he was okay. He said, “Well, I was trying to decide whether to go to Home Depot, I have something I need to fix on my house. I am okay right now.”

She drove off, but uneasily. By this time it was getting dark, and me, the ever observant one, was still not getting why she was so conflicted about leaving. After all, he had a cell phone and we could hear the other person talking to him. As we drove down the road a ways, she said, “That street is no place for a blind person to be after dark.”

Me: “He’s BLIND???”

Her: “Yeaaaaa. That’s what the white cane with the red tip means.”

Me: “Ohhhhhh, no wonder you were worried!”

Her: “Did you think I was just stalking him?”

Then it struck us funny. By this time, he was tap, tap, tapping down Broadway at a pretty good clip. I had looked up the non-emergency police number and the dispatcher said they would send someone right out. We sat at a stop sign while we waited, holding our breath at the light while he crossed. Around 6 minutes later the police came and pulled over next to him. We watched as the cop helped the man into the back seat.

We proceeded to follow them to Wal-Mart where we stopped to talk to the patrolman that picked him up. He was very nice and explained that the guy wanted to buy some door-knobs for his house which he was trying to fix up. And he thanked us for calling them.

As we drove off, we wondered out loud how someone blind would go about repairs on a house.

She said, “What if that man were Jesus?”

I said, “That means that I flunked the test and you passed.”

She said, “No, you passed too because you did the right thing, that is after you figured out he was blind.”

Personally, I think she is cutting me some slack there, I should have noticed right away that he was blind, except my stomach was growling and my mind was fixated on the fish tacos waiting at home.

For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’

“Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’

“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’

Blooming thanks today

So then, just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live your lives in him, rooted and built up in him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness. Colossians 2:6-7

I had made a potato salad for Easter the night before. Then I got up the next morning sick. Bad sick. Sicker than I have been in about 6 years. E had gotten it before me and she was still down too. Easter came and went, and so did the day after. By the third day I felt a little bit like I had been in a tomb right along with Jesus. Well, not really but I felt like it.

I can’t say I was grateful to be sick, but I do remember thinking that I was grateful that it fell on my weekend and that I had three days to just lay down and be sick. Many people get sick and have young children to take care of, or their elderly parents. Or a job that they just can’t leave. And I remember being grateful for the fact that I had a nice soft bed to be sick in.

There was one night, however, where I didn’t feel very grateful. At…..all. I couldn’t sleep and the devil was really stoking up my fire in the ‘ol hot flash furnace, as well as chills from the flu and to top it off a headache right behind my eyes. I was whining, complaining to God. I….just….wanted…..sleep.

I recited the Lord’s Prayer and the 23rd Psalm repeatedly, in between trips to the freezer for frozen water bottles. I tried visualization of still waters and green pastures dotted with sheep peacefully grazing. They blinked at me and went back to grazing.

As the hours ticked by I got mad. My prayers turned to whining as I lay there thinking about the coming summer heat and wondered how in the world I will ever get through five months of it. Sometime around 4:30 I fell asleep.

When I awoke I felt human again and filled with the kind of joy that feels almost impossible after feeling so bad just a few short hours before. Despite all my nighttime grumbling, God put His stamp of blessing on me for no good reason other than that fact that He loves me.

And now I am staring back down the week reflecting joyfully that I have reached my weekend once again. This weekend will be Easter for me, and really, isn’t every new day? As I stepped out to the car in the early dark the birds were already starting to sing, and as I drove down the freeway I was singing too.

I strolled through the big glass double doors with a spring in my step this morning because it’s the last day of my work week and once again, He has brought me through every challenge.

So then, just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live your lives in him, rooted and built up in him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness.

I’ve never thought much about the word “continue” in the verse above, but in the final analysis, continuing is what matters most of all. Especially when you are continuing with Jesus, not just as friend but Lord and God.

Depending on what you are going through, continuing can be a really hefty word. Sometimes just continuing feels nothing short of impossible. But when we take one step forward with hope in His strength. All things are truly possible.

Continue……in peace. With your hope firmly rooted in Him. In due time, He will reward you with joy.

Forty lashes (plus or minus one)

I headed out to my car on break after barely being able to keep my eyes open at my station. I intended to pray a bit, and read a bit, and then hopefully catch 40 winks plus or minus one. The weather for once was cooperating. It had clouded up and I was happy with that. I never like it when it’s bright and sunny on Good Friday. It just doesn’t seem right.

I cranked the seat back and opened the sunroof and to my delight, a few drops of rain, teeny cold and precious drops hit me. I listened as it lightly pelted the car. As I lay there I thought of what I had read earlier……what Jesus went through on the day He died for me. Before He was even crucified.

He got 40 lashes minus one. This was the traditional number, and yet professional killers don’t always use much discretion.There would have been not one, but two Roman legionaries, one on either side, according to my historical sources, who were specially trained to inflict extreme physical suffering without actually causing death. These weren’t just any lashes.

After Jesus was made to kneel, His wrists were bound to the “scourging post.” The wood handled “whip” had three leather straps around 3 feet long, The whipping was so painful that many times people had seizures, threw up or lost consciousness due to blood loss. The bits of bone and metal attached tore through flesh and exposed muscle and inner organs.

There was no pause between blows, and after this Jesus would have been in physical shock.

And yet even that wasn’t enough for them. A crude purple robe was laid over His open wounds which probably reached down to His calves, and a crown of thorns dug into His already bruised and battered face. Normally He would have had to carry the 50-70 pound cross beam to His own crucifixion but He was too badly beaten for that.

As the soldiers led him away, they seized Simon from Cyrene, who was on his way in from the country, and put the cross on him and made him carry it behind Jesus. Luke 23:26

Those who saw “The Passion of the Christ” might have thought that Mel Gibson was laying on the gore a bit thick, but those who have researched the subject know that it was bad, so bad that people could barely look on Jesus as He was led down to Golgotha.

Just as there were many who were appalled at him — his appearance was so disfigured beyond that of any human being and his form marred beyond human likeness–Isaiah 52:14

As I lay there in the car with my eyes wide open, thinking about all Jesus went through for us, I wondered if maybe it isn’t necessary or healthy to dwell on this part. After all, it happened, it’s done. Jesus is glorified, resurrected and in His rightful place back home with His Father in glory.

And yet, I can’t not think about it. And each year, I am aghast and apalled all over again at how terrible and how wonderful it is. I marvel at a God who would go to such lengths to save me.

I marvel at a God who loves me so much it kills Him.

On earth as it is in Heaven

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When I left the theater after seeing Heaven is for Real, it was as if some of the noise of the world had been turned down and was replaced with a quiet deep within my soul. It didn’t hit me full force the way some movies do, it was more like it settled itself around me gently. If it had been a butterfly it would have landed on my shoulder and fluttered there like grace.

I walked past the brilliant yellow of the Palo Verde trees splashed against a sapphire sky. I heard the melody of bird-song interrupted by horns blaring, aggressive drivers speeding past the busy street just outside the parking lot; people in a hurry, people stressed and angry.

People needing a touch of Heaven.

I passed two men having a conversation where “F bombs” shot out like verbal canons, just another instance, one of many sprinkled throughout an ordinary day that call for some kind of redemption. Suddenly I wanted nothing more than to get home and settle on my patio by the garden with a tall glass of tea, savoring the quiet, harboring my reflection.

Looking around, it’s easy to see that our world needs the hope of Heaven.

As I walked out through the parking lot, it was easy for me to imagine a purer, better place right alongside this one. Little four-year old Colton Burpo says he was there, and ten years later, he still hasn’t changed his story.

I guess I am one of the lucky ones. I’ve never not believed in Heaven. For me, this film just echoed what I already believe, rather, what I already know. Because I believe in God and a perfectly good God has to live in a perfectly good place.

The question then becomes a provocative one: If we say we believe that Heaven is real, are we living as though it is? And as Colton’s Dad asks his congregation in the movie: If we truly believed what we say we do, how would our lives look different?

I drove home reflecting on all those times in my life when God has ripped the fabric of my world apart just enough to let the rays of Heaven leak through. Just enough to show me that I didn’t have to despair. Things that I know that I know that I know, couldn’t have come from anywhere else.

And when you have seen someone die with eyes full of hope, already filled with the reflection of Heaven, it’s easy to believe.

When Jesus came to this earth, He brought Heaven with Him. That’s what He meant when He said “The Kingdom of Heaven is at hand.” Right here, right now. And when He left, He talked of going to a physical place, a place we can scarcely begin to imagine. A place He’s preparing for us!

It’s easy for children to believe in Heaven. All too often we undermine their simple faith with our own doubts. Sometimes I think we are almost afraid to really believe. I think one of the best things about the film is that it brings up some questions that we all must ask ourselves.

If we really believed as we say we do, how would our lives look different? I wonder.

When you don’t fit in and it’s okay

I grew up in a church that was somewhat legalistic. I didn’t think much of it until the first time I went to an Assembly of God church where people clapped and raised their hands, and not just shoulder height, all the way up! It was like a whole new world opened up to me. You see, in our church we weren’t even encouraged to clap. I am not sure what’s wrong with clapping. Maybe they thought it would lead to other outward expressions and then God forbid where would you draw the line? There has to be some control after all. Otherwise you might have people jumping over pews and rolling in the aisles.

I say that tongue in cheek, but looking back I always felt somewhat restricted there. One false move and you might be visited by two men in dark suits. I will never forget the time we had an outstanding musical performance and someone must have forgotten the rule because there was a burst of applause. It started strong, but then the Pastor raised his hand in admonition……”No, no clapping please.” The people (us) being properly chastened, it quickly died down.

I remember never quite fitting in. Don’t get me wrong. I have many good memories of church and I am thankful, so thankful my Mom insisted we go. I have to say, I got a wonderful Scriptural foundational knowledge there. People that love the Lord with all their hearts still go there. And yet, when I got out. I remember feeling a profound sense of freedom that I had never had before and it was a little bit of Heaven.

My joy was no longer contained……I felt like a balloon taking flight for the first time. I could feel totally comfortable lifting my hands to the sky, or equally comfortable going down to the altar and planting my face to the indoor outdoor carpeted step. I finally felt I could express my joy over being forgiven, being redeemed properly.

I have taken part in all different types of church services, and I am glad I have. I consider myself bit of a church mutt. I have been immersed in liturgy and felt extremely moved by its beauty. I have been to services where people felt totally free to kick off their shoes and dance in the aisle. And what I have come away with is this:

There is no right way or wrong way to praise God and as soon as you start making people believe they have to do worship a certain way, then you are excluding those who don’t quite fit your mold.

There is room, my friends. Room for all of our individuality at the Cross. And as long a congregation is true to Scripture, it’s all good. Just because I lift my hands in church doesn’t mean someone else has to. Their hearts might be bursting with praise within. God knows hearts. He knows each thought, each feeling, He hears whispered praise as well as praise that shouts to the sky.

He is big enough to contain it all.

A King is Coming

Nature itself, brings her own hope in Spring. The mornings seem bright with promise everywhere.

The ground yields renewal as green shoots toil upwards toward the light finally breaking free.

We too, lean toward the sun and long for freedom.

In Spring, hope becomes more than just a word or a thought.

It becomes something we feel

with the shifting of the earth’s renewal.

Deep within the twisted arms of the vine, the life at its core gives birth to green.

And once again the robin flits about, we see the flash of her breast as it catches the morning light.

And against the backdrop of this bright green earth pallet,

a Savior rides into Jerusalem.

And the stones cry out.

Everywhere, people cheer as their hearts burst within them,

though they are not even sure why.

Somehow they know who they see holds the key to their redemption.

The earth sings and everywhere this week hearts of stone will turn to flesh once again

we will remember.

Lori's Prayer Closet

"And when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done is secret, will reward you……"Matthew 6:6

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