Thankful for the thorns

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I felt the panic rise and the riptide of the day starting as I awoke. I tamped it back down as it beat against me,  my heartbeat quickening as I glanced at the clock which read 3:40. I layed back down and willed the clock back 8 hours or so.  I sliced at it with the sword of the Word kept in my heart.

My cat sensed my stirrings and came up to nestle and I put my face in his fur and felt his purr, silly as it was it calmed me. The thought came: I should be over this kind of thing. But do we ever get totally at ease and comfortable in this life? And if so, then what do I need Him for?

You’d think I would be over this by now, this fear about meeting the day, but it still happens from time to time and I have the feeling I am not the only one.

We are bound to this earth until such time as these cords are cut and we fly back to our maker. Our real home. The one that every day I seem to glimpse a little more of. I think if we could catch one true glimpse of that life, we would never fear again, but God has given us the gift of faith which pulls us through and fills us with hope.

“Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” Hebrews 11:1

Paul, a servant of God and an apostle of Jesus Christ for the faith of God’s elect and the knowledge of the truth that leads to godliness'” a faith and knowledge resting on the hope of eternal life, which God, who does not lie, promised before the beginning of time….Titus 1:1,2

Paul called his sufferings light and momentary afflictions.

He was beaten, thrown over-board, bitten by snakes, thrown in prison…….

Yeah, I can do this.

As the words to the song fill my car, my hands gripped the wheel as I counted the years in my head that Jesus has been walking with me……40 years with Jesus now, and shouldn’t I have this down pat?

But the answer came: Will there ever be a time to stop trusting, to stop learning, to stop leaning?

I hope that time never comes this side of Heaven.

Thankful for the thorn of my weakness today. Because every day it draws me closer. Nearer.

God picks you…..every time

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Only a few things happening can cast me down to despair.
That’s how fragile I am, how fragile we all are.

And into my heart, He whispered like a warm breeze…..
If I didn’t remind you of the darkness from time to time,
You wouldn’t remember the candle I lit in your soul either.

I felt the love in what He was saying.

As tears came I said, “Yes, Lord.”
You know me so well.

I remember how it feels to stand in a place of tremendous
and absolute beauty and not feel or see a thing, and
it’s His great love for me and others that brings those feelings back

How else could I offer any comfort or help to others?
I can light a candle in their soul just the way you did for me, for until you did that for me?

I was a hopeless case.
Useless to myself and others.

Thank you, Lord for these times.
For reminding me just how fragile I am.
How I can feel in an instant alone on a playground not ever the first to be picked.

But you pick me, Lord. Again and again.
You said, “I want you.”

I sought the Lord, and he answered me;
he delivered me from all my fears.
Those who look to him are radiant;
their faces are never covered with shame.
This poor man called, and the Lord heard him;
he saved him out of all his troubles.
The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear him,
and he delivers them. Psalm 34:4-7

And thank you, Psalmist for these words of yours……they never fail to comfort.

Once again, you light the window in my dark soul.

Thank you for the assurance that my full range of emotions from joy to sorrow and everything in between,

are safe only in Your hands.

In You only, will I put my trust…….

In all things that I contemplate as I am consulting you, I find no secure place for my soul except in you. And in you, I pray that what is scattered in me may be brought together, so that no part of me may be apart from you. Sometimes when you are working within me, bringing my scattered self to you, you draw me into a state of feeling that is unlike anything I am used to, a kind of sweet delight. I know that if this spiritual state were made permanent in me it would be something not of this world, not of this life. Augustine. Confessions 10

The treasure that remains

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Stepping off a wonderful vacation and back into reality is tough, and yet something within us knows  it can never last. Even at the edges of a dream we can always sense reality just hovering, nipping at our heels.

I was thinking about that today in prayer time as I was letting the memories, sounds and sights wash over me. I used to have a terrible time coming down off a good vacation. I would rebel against going home, starting work or school. I would keep comparing the beautiful place I had just been to where I came back to.

But kicking and screaming on the inside is so tiring, and no way to live.

With passing years, God has taught me how to be okay with it. One of the things I value most about my faith is knowing that my reality is steeped in the Presence of a loving God who has promised to never leave me or forsake me.

And as beautiful as it was, the beauty was only the backdrop. The part that is captured and held in the grip of eternity was the time spent with someone we love, hearing their voice and seeing every expression….things that email, phone and text can never do.

I remember how we talked and laughed and cried. The beauty of the coast and the trees and the mountains will fade away someday but pouring our hearts as an offering to each other, talking about hopes, fears, dreams and God……. That’s the treasure that remains.

I think about all three of our lives, and how we are all a miracle. And it’s a miracle how God brought us back together after so many years. I smile, because I know He jotted it all down in His book when we talked about Him right there in that coffee shop. We had church.

He was listening as we exchanged survivor’s stories about how He saved our shipwrecked lives.

And now that He’s brought us back, I know it’s just the beginning of a friendship that will last until we do.

Then those whose lives honored God got together and talked it over. God saw what they were doing and listened in. A book was opened in God’s presence and minutes were taken of the meeting, with the names of the God-fearers written down, all the names of those who honored God’s name. Malachi 3:16

 

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When the thing you dream of is happening

Finding God from where we are

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.” James 1:17

The trip is happening today, the one she dreamed of when she was overwhelmed, buried and burdened with care-giving. At one point, she gave up on all of it. Of ever having any vacation again. But now her Mom is settled and in a safe place. Yet tattered remnants of guilt remain. When you have been a caregiver for so long, guilt has a way of becoming a constant companion. It permeates your life and settles around you like smoke at a campfire.

I really think certain types of caregiving almost become a variation of the Stockholm syndrome, where hostages express empathy and sympathy and even have positive feelings for their captors. Especially when you are dealing with cases involving Dementia and Alzheimer’s. Of course, the one you are caring for is not a captor but usually someone you love or at the least someone you feel duty bound to care for. Because you want to. Because it’s the right thing.

Yet sometimes, when you are finally free, you don’t want to allow yourself that freedom. That’s an old trick of Satan, and personally, I don’t want to give him any satisfaction whatsoever. So we are taking this time off and accepting it as the gift from God that it is, with joy and anticipation.

Today, Elaine and I fly to Seattle and plan to eat seafood, see our dear friend and gaze in wonder at the ocean once more. And we will thank God for getting us through everything that went before. If you want a taste of it, just click on the sidebar under the Alzheimer’s category. It is with gratitude in our hearts that we will take this trip and savor every minute of it.

Hopefully, I will get a post in over the next week, but if I don’t you will know why.

For now, I am retreating for a few minutes of prayer as light starts to fill the sky and a day of promise begins. And we have a plane to catch.

When someone hurts you or someone you love

"A Better Resurrection"

He has been there before us, He really has.

When we or someone we care about are hurt by someone the first thing, the easy thing is to lash out. We want to dish out some of the pain they so carelessly toss in their direction. That’s the temptation. No one wants to feel slighted, ignored, misunderstood, or worse not even acknowledged.

The best thing we can possibly do in that situation is remember that He was there first. No one has been hurt as much as Jesus while He was walking this earth. That’s why He understands. And that’s why His Father understands, because every time Jesus hurt, the Father felt it too.

We need to know we can run to Him and He more than anyone will understand. More than that, He sees what happened. That thing they did to you……that stabbed at your heart? He saw it.

And He is ready and able to be your comfort.

I know this.

Pour out your heart to Him now and He will come in and fill all those hurting and empty places like rain replenishes the dry parched ground in the desert.

All praise to the God and Father of our Master, Jesus the Messiah! Father of all mercy! God of all healing counsel! He comes alongside us when we go through hard times, and before you know it, he brings us alongside someone else who is going through hard times so that we can be there for that person just as God was there for us. 2 Corinthians 1:3

And don’t ever let anyone convince you that you deserve that treatment and turn it around on yourself. Lift yourself up to your Father who loves you. He is your strong tower, your advocate, your hope, your strength. He will see you through. Nothing passes by Him unnoticed, especially if you are His child.

Trust Him. He will provide you with His peace and comfort.

In any and every situation.

The Sacredness of Sunday mornings

Blessings in disguise

I pulled my sweats on and went out in the dark and it was cold so I needed an extra layer. I went back inside and got my no fail LL Bean terry cloth robe and carried my steaming cup out to the shop, the candle in my little lantern already flickering a soft glow.

A bird was singing its heart out and against the backdrop of that song, a dove cooed an accompaniment from a neighboring rooftop.

There is something sacred about this……reflecting on the week. Thanking God for how He got me through, how He got us through. I think of God pausing after the sixth day, looking out over creation, a Holy pause and here in the dark, I feel an echo of that same pause.

It’s good and right to do this.

Sometimes, activity has to stop in order for the appreciation to be fully felt, and standing on the other side of the events lets them breathe freely and take on new life.

This morning, I let it all wash over me. The events of the trip back home, getting my brother in and out of the hospital, the car almost conking out and Dad, a nervous wreck in the driver’s seat but holding it together and getting them back home. Me getting lost and nice people with directions. Mom and I sweeping my brother’s porch together.

Watching my Mom place her hands on Lauryn’s head giving her a blessing before school from my place in the driver’s seat; seeing her mouth the words I knew she was saying…….”The Lord bless you and keep you, the Lord make His face to shine upon you and give you peace.” I pray that is one memory of her Grandma that Lauryn will always carry with her.

And even after a week, I still hear the praise song Mom played from her old boombox in the corner of the kitchen.

My life is in You Lord, my strength is in You Lord, my hope is in You Lord, in You, in You………

Yes indeed. It is. And thank you also, Lord for the little light that dawned while I was training yesterday at work. I really needed that.

When it just flows

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Sometimes you hit a sweet spot with blogging, or any kind of writing for that matter. You stop wrestling and trying to figure out what you should write, or what people want to hear, or what you want to hear from yourself. It doesn’t always happen this way, but when it does?

It becomes not something you do, but something you release as a free expression of the worship that naturally flows out of your heart and soul. It’s gratitude and nothing more…..

Just now, I was heading back up the stairs here at work. I had a spring in my step because I am on break and I knew I had an hour or so to do this post. I simply couldn’t wait, not because I have anything of much importance or earth shattering to say, be because I serve a very good God and I am so glad He is walking with me on this earth, because the more I see in the news?

The more hopeless it seems to get. The bleaker the outlook, the more I cling to my God and the more the gratitude spills out. And the more I want to share that with everyone else.

As I spent time with my family just this past week, I learned to cherish them all over again.

When I was unpacking my suitcase last night, I came across the hand drawn map my Dad made me, the directions to the hospital. I couldn’t bear to throw it away. I tucked it into my keepsake box, which is fairly bursting at the seams with each passing year.

Looking at that map, I wondered how in the world I have been so blessed. I have had people drawing maps for me my whole life. At every turn.

And when I took that wrong turn on the freeway just recently? I got a call from Elaine who was watching me via the “Find friends” app on my iPhone. She called to tell me how to get back on but I had already stopped and asked directions.

Friends and family that have your back. When it all comes down to it, that is what matters most. In the hospital room beside my brother there was a man who had no visitors. He was awaiting his heart surgery and he had no company.

He has no hope of any face to greet him when he comes out. No hand to grasp except the medical staff.  No loving eyes that meet his, and no one to wipe his brow with a cool cloth. My brother felt so bad he said he might even go visit him afterwards.

Yes, I am extremely grateful these days. For people who love me, and for a loving God who gave me the best road map and the only one I will ever need.

His word and His love.

Where almost everybody knows your name

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I have been on a whirlwind trip back home and awash with thoughts and no time to capture them. For a blogger/writer this is almost like looking for a restroom when you really need one and find they are all closed for cleaning. There is no satisfaction until relief comes.

Also, no WIFI stations seemed to work and I think that was exactly what God in His wisdom intended for me and for everyone else.

My brother’s procedure went well. It took four hours for the Catheter Ablation and he came through with flying colors. I think I was helpful and that gives me a sense of satisfaction. There is something about pulling together as a family and making it all work that is good and right. The fruit trees were in bloom and yet we were alll moving so fast there was no time to “stop and smell the roses” or any other kind of flower for that matter, although we did manage to snatch some golden moments along the way.

It’s not too often we all hold hands and pray together, but we did before Dad and Ron left for the hospital.

Later, driving my Mom there I missed a turn and rediscovered how good and helpful strangers can still be when I pulled over to ask directions. I knew I had a local boy because he led me back on the right track and we were never so relieved to see “H” street. I had this proven twice in one day when I took another wrong turn at night and another very nice guy got me back on 50 and then South 99.

I hope God blessed them both for being so helpful.

Later, as we all sat in the waiting room watching old “Maude” reruns from the 1970’s, I asked my Mom if she remembered the long dresses I wore in High School when our singing group gave concerts. She said she didn’t but my Dad piped up and said he did. In fact, he remembered one specific dress I wore with blue puffy sleeves that tied in the back. I was touched by that.

After the hospital ordeal was over, I was doing an errand downtown for Mom and passed a friend walking down the street. I yelled out the window and asked if she needed a ride, and she was dumbfounded to see me. She didn’t know I was in town. That’s another thing that’s nice about small town life, you can still run into people you know everywhere.

The next day I went into the local Bible bookstore and ran into another friend who knew my folks. We had in fact, just been talking about her because she used to live a few doors down. She didn’t have the Newboys CD I was looking for so she actually burned me a copy while we talked.

And of course, there was the joy of seeing a little girl who was turned almost inside out she was so excited to see me. We did all kinds of things together. Saying goodbye is very hard for her, she takes after her Auntie that way, so I just squeezed her tight and told her I would be back very soon.

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There is always a flip side to the joy of being there, since it brings to mind all the things I am not there for the rest of the time, yet I am so grateful I have a job that allows me to leave as much as I do, and it makes the time we do have all the more valuable.

I was so touched and grateful for all the prayers via family, friends, email, this blog and Facebook. I humbly thank each and every one of you. And thank you Elaine, for all you did in my absence and for making home a wonderful place to come back to.

I wish this were a longer post, but time is pressing and my break is almost up.

God is good, all the time.  

Pulling over and slowing down

Steadfast and Immovable

And he said to them, “Come away by yourselves to a desolate place and rest a while.” For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat. Mark 6:31

Last night on the way home, I heard music literally spilling onto a page. It was piano, and the notes were played so fast and yet so perfectly they sounded as if they were spilled, not played. If you have never heard that I hope you do someday. The notes made me feel as if I were sitting in a grand but restful drawing-room in a Downton-like mansion.
 
Lately I have felt the need to pull off the super-highway of social media. For awhile, I was twittering, pinteresting, face-booking and instagraming all at the same time, simultaneously. Oh, and add blogging into the mix, and reading other’s blogs as well as trying to write my own.
 
I forgot why I was writing and who I was writing for. I was playing the comparison game and it was wearing me out. In light of that, I have decided that if an activity doesn’t give me a measure of peace, then I will stop doing it. Of course, that doesn’t apply to work, I have to do that.
 
Sometimes life is like what happened to me in my car last night. I was driving along minding my own business at around 75 MPH when all of a sudden the engine lost power. There were no warning lights on the dash. Nothing to tell me anything was wrong, other than the fact that all of a sudden, cars were zooming by me and I was slowing down.
 
I had to pull over, and fast. I put my flashers on and got to the side of the road and adjusted the floor mat which I thought maybe was a contributing factor in why I slowed down, I thought maybe it got caught underneath the gas pedal. I cautiously started driving again and it seemed fine, so once again I got up speed and zoomed my way home.
 
By the time I pulled in the driveway, an indicator light did come on which turned out to be the EPC (Engine Power Control).
 
Suffice it to say, I have had a warning light to slow down my activity on social media for a time. And I have.
 
And it has been good for my peace.
 
I will still blog and get on Facebook and all the rest, but now it will be like touching down and checking in rather than full immersion.
 
The desert is a peaceful place……and I want to bring that to you in this blog. A little corner away from the multitudes and noise and confusion of the world. I want to bring the peace of Jesus here.
 
Because sometimes you just have to pull over and let the others just zoom by. If you need me I will be sitting at the base of these trees.  

Choosing the Scars

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If you asked me for proof of whether God exists and whether He works in the lives of people, I would ask you to peer into my life; for I believe its in the story of our lives where He does His best work. If you could have been watching, you would have seen a girl kneeling by her bed, the one with the ruffly pink chenille bedspread, the one our dog always peed on when it was fresh from the laundry, knowing even then that God was listening.

God has His fingerprint on us from the start, and either we are born with someone in our lives who confirms that or denies it. One thing I know, throughout our lives God keeps tapping us on the shoulder, trying to remind us He’s still there.

My life has been shot through with miracle after miracle, and so has yours. I was born 3 months early in a time when that was a real emergency. If we hadn’t been visiting my Aunt, who lived very close to Stanford Hospital when my Mom went into labor, I may have been returned to sender even before I took a breath.

Flash forward to aged 12 where I sat in the dermatologist office for the first time, a curtain of hair hanging in front of a face marred with early onset adult cystic acne. Around that same time, I walked down the church aisle and gave my life to the Lord, because I knew I needed saving in more ways than one.

If you took a slice out of my life during the ensuing years, you would see many good times doing things together as a family, but you would also see hard days when my Dad hated his job, and mornings when my Mom had to literally pray me out the door before the onslaught of the school day.

And even all these years later I can still feel her hand in mine and hear her voice when she prayed those prayers in the mornings by the light of the fire.  

Those prayers carried me through High School where I so much wanted to belong but remained locked inside myself because I didn’t know how to be friends with myself let alone anyone else. Every now and then the acne was not as bad, and I almost felt free, but then it would come back and I would retreat again, inside my music and the dark scrawling in the notebook I carried wherever I went.

All those years the Spirit held me close, but those years also left scars that I didn’t let Him heal and because the mirror I used to view myself was a distorted one, I never saw the beauty that others saw, I just saw the scars.

Then, I went on a diet and lost a few pounds and got a few compliments. I became intoxicated with something I could actually control and I found that when I refused food that I really liked I felt a power I had never felt before.

I became my own superhero and 83 pounds was still not thin enough.

But God still held me fast. He heard the tearful prayers of my parents. One night I had a dream that was suffused with a golden light and when I awoke the next morning I knew that the demon had lost and God had won. I ate forbidden scrambled eggs and then the real work started.

In the dark mornings, God and I would get up and run when no one else could see me. Later, my Dad and I (and God) ran together. Rain or shine, we were out there. In the eighties, I joined the throng of women wearing “Flashdance” sweatshirts and leg warmers and traded one addiction for another.

And all these years later when I hear that song on the radio?  I smile and remember those days when I got my health back and felt beautiful for the first time in my life ever.

And knowing God was with me all along.

Today, if you’ve ever wondered if there was a God I challenge you to look at your own life and count up all the things you’ve come through.

You are here friend, because He wanted you here.

Right now today where you stand, wherever you stand, He loves you. He has already partnered with you, all you have to do is accept His invitation to partner with Him. Years later, when you are looking back at your life the way I am looking at mine now, and trust me on this, it is the one thing you will never, ever regret.

And if my scars made the difference between knowing Him and not knowing Him? I would choose the scars every single time.