Letting the rain speak

I was presented with a gift this morning, it was the pitter patter of rain on my little tin roof. I thought I should give God the respect to stop and listen instead of opening my windbag of prayer requests right away, so I settled back and did just that. Thank you God, for letting me hear You in it this morning. Rain is somewhat of a miraculous thing in the desert. It makes the news. We go outside and gaze at the clouds to see what direction they’re moving to see if we will get more. And Arizona is the only place I have ever experienced the curious phenomena of rain in the front yard and blue skies in the back.

The thought of rain can incite different things when you are in a tent. Fear and dread. Of course the sound of rain on canvas has its own kind of magic, but it’s never a good feeling when you realize you forgot the plastic tarp.

After I thanked God for the gift of the rain, I brought a few before the Throne. For me there is always a readjustment of sorts when I pray, a pulling back, thinking who do I think I am anyway, to enter into that Holy of Holies? Then I remember that when He looks at me He sees me just as I am, but He also sees His Son superimposed in my heart. He tells me that I should come boldly before the Throne, so I do.

Once again I run like a kid into my Daddy’s office where He’s working and though sometimes I think He has every right to shoo me away impatiently He never does. He grabs me……and hugs me, and in His eyes I see nothing but love.

Today in my Bible reading plan, one of the Chapters was Matthew 10. I wondered how it applied to me, here in my comfortable chair, here in my place of peace. I will probably never be flogged in any synagogue, or be brought before any governing authority and be questioned about my faith. I haven’t cured anyone of leprosy lately, or of anything else for that matter.

But this is what I love about Jesus. He spoke to me in those verses anyway. And just when I was feeling like I was less than anyone I read about in Scripture, He assured me that He loves me very much. And as He spoke to my heart, He told me the most important thing I could do here in my corner of the world is to be a conduit for His love, and to not let those things like anger, bitterness, impatience crop up so that the gifts of His Holy Spirit can’t come through.

And He also told me that this little blog can be a perfectly good testimony for Him because in it, I tell others what wonderful things He does in my life, every single day.

Thanks, God. You just have a way of reminding me everyday of just how wonderfully you love me.

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law. Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit. Ephesians 5:22-25

Why Bach made me cry this morning

I heard the announcement for the Brandenburg concerto before it came on and I was glad. I was on my way to work, with all the people I care about swirling around in my head. Some of my best talks with God are on the way to work. I see the Ford F-150 I see everyday and I pray for my brother because that’s what He drives. I pray for my Mom and Dad who despite their advancing years, have little down time for themselves and so I pray for them too.

And I was praying for Elaine too. Today she has to deal yet again with the director of the care home her Mom will hopefully be going into soon. The truth came out yesterday after he hemmed and hawed and he said, “Well, I don’t really agree with the caseworkers’ Level 1 assessment…..and I really don’t deal with her anyway, I have my own……and actually we get less money from the state for Level 1 care…..” Really.

“Unless,” he said, “the family is willing to contribute monetarily.” So it seems it’s mainly about the money not the care, and that’s disheartening. And when I think of how much stress she is under already, I don’t know why she should have to put up with this as well.

The first strains of music started playing and I wasn’t prepared for the tears when they came. Mascara liquefied as I tried to staunch the flow. All of a sudden, I was 18 again. It was the fall after I had purchased my first stereo, bought with my own money. When I got a real job, it was the first thing on my list. It cost me either $179.00 or $79.00, the years and inflation have skewed my memory on that one.

It took up my whole closet with big tower speakers placed strategically apart on either side of the room. My first classical music album was borrowed from the public library. It was Vivaldi, but one of my first actual purchases was the Brandenburg concertos by Bach. That fall I listened to them over and over.

I would gaze out my bedroom window and watch the gold leaves fluttering in the wind as I listened to that music fill the room and those moments solidified in my mind. Anytime I remember fall back then that’s what I think of.

Right along with cracking walnuts on the garage floor, Halloween, crackling fires, flannel shirts and coconut rolls from the bakery on the corner.

My Mom would tell me to turn it off because it made her nervous. The fast parts anyway. And the slow parts she said made her sad. I think that was what sparked the tears this morning, thinking of her. And my tears fill all over again at my desk just now, because I love her and she is much too close to Heaven for my comfort level and so is my Dad.

And I just want to tell everyone I care about right now, how I wish everything could be easier and I wish I could make it that way for them. And just when I was feeling like one of those silly sentimental people who cry at the drop of a hat I looked across the street and the silly fountain on the corner seemed to be squirting right in time to the music.

It was a Grace moment.

I have learned that God does those things all the time. We just don’t notice all the time. But today I did. He always seems to find a way to make me smile, God does.

Miracle in the parking lot

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” John 14:27

Lately, it has been hard to keep emotion under control. Always, it threatens to break like a breach in a dam when it finally gives way. She is in the last stages, (she sincerely hopes) of placing her Mom in a care facility. In between her bus route this morning she was doing her other job, collecting paperwork for the placement process. If you are a private pay patient it’s a whole different scenario; they wave you in like royalty, roll out the red carpet, fresh flowers in the room and all that, but her Mom is not. When you are dependent on the State, you have to jump through hoop after hoop. Today was yet another visit by yet another case worker. And really, they have been very cooperative….for that we are thankful.

But lately, she has begun to lose hope in the process. It is wearing her down.

Behind weary eyes she confides her fears……”It’s not going to happen, I’ve resigned myself to it.” She feels like giving up, and I am doing my level best to convince her that we are at the tail end. Right now, that’s my whole goal, to give a fresh supply of hope. To help her along and be her strength when she has none.

Just now, as I type this, her Mom is taking a plate of food out to the living room, balanced precariously. I know that potato chip crumbs will end up all over the floor I just vacuumed. But that part doesn’t matter anymore. That’s small stuff.

When you are a caregiver it seems like nobody notices all the hundreds of little things you do, certainly not the one you are caring for. Sometimes you need a little verification that God sees you, that He’s still there. Today, as she was finishing up at her Dad’s care home she noticed two folded pieces of paper half hidden under a tire. Something made her stop and pick them up. Opening them, she found two beautifully handwritten pages of prayers:

Two pages of hope.

At the top of each prayer was a verse:

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. John 14:27

Who is God besides the Lord? And who is the Rock except our God? 2 Samuel 22:32

Just when she needed it most, a sign…..and those notes may as well have floated down from Heaven itself. I would love to know who wrote two such beautiful prayers. They must have needed some confirmation as well. I find myself wondering what set of circumstances led them to it? We will probably never know, but I would love to tell them how much their words helped.

To honor the one who prayed I am including one of them below:

Often, when people are experiencing problems, or if they need advice, they turn to a friend for help. But human effort always falls short. If you find yourself in a difficult situation, don’t underestimate the power and love of God. Complete healing flows from an absolute and unconditional trust in and surrender to the living Christ. It doesn’t matter what your problem is, the only lasting solution is to be found in the unfathomable love which God through Jesus, bestowed on humanity. Never be too proud or too afraid to turn to Jesus. Lay all your problems at His feet. He gave His life for you and will grant you the healing balm of His peace.

I want to hold on to you Lord, when the storm winds blow and I feel insecure. Grant me your peace. Amen.

An unknown writer

This is our miracle today. I thank you, whoever you are who wrote that. I hope you found the help and peace you were looking for, we certainly did.

The Proof of the Cross

As I type this I hear the roar of the fire engine as it comes down my street. The lights were flashing today, that means there is still hope they are alive, though the siren wasn’t on. In a retirement community this happens a lot. Living here there are more than the usual reminders of the thin line of mortality. That can be a good thing. The residents here keep a healthy attitude about it, we all call it the meat wagon. Yes, it is kind of sick but a healthy sense of humor goes a long way, and behind the humor there is caring. It’s a close-knit community.

This morning, after I lit the heater in the shop where I pray I went out briefly as I always do to gaze at the stars. I felt the Presence of God there with me and I was thankful once again for the gift of seeing Him, feeling Him. I grabbed my coffee and settled in my chair, the heater sputtering warmth on my feet. I opened to the story where Abraham goes to the mountain to sacrifice Isaac and for the second time in two days I run into another speed bump in the Word.

As I read, I felt my faith shrink and shrivel away to almost nothing.

Who on earth could measure up to that? And what kind of kid would go along with it and how much faith did he have to have, and wouldn’t he have argued? Wouldn’t have he refused to get up on that pile of firewood? And how could God even ask such a thing, even knowing He wasn’t going to make Abraham go along with it.

I wrestled and I wrestled, as I always have with this passage. And there in the flickering light, I asked God how it is that He can love me, knowing I will never do anything as big as that. Knowing how small my faith is? And then the answer came and nestled softly in my heart. “I love you because my heart is big enough for everyone, even those whose faith is small.” Then I remembered the mustard seed and I smiled through my tears.

The God who loves Abraham loves me too. And suddenly the story all fit together, it all made sense. It was all meant to be and I have my own small part in eternity just like Abraham had his.

God loves me, the proof is in the cross.

Then Jesus told him, “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” John 20:29

“Jesus, your words are troubling me again.”

Jesus, your words trouble me. Just started a new Bible reading plan and ran into my first major speed bump on day 7. I have read these words so many times and yet when I read them today I had to close my Bible and have a conversation with God.

It’s funny how I breezed through all the other verses so easily. It was all black and white, all so right, that is until I got to this verse:

^“But I say, do not resist an evil person! If someone slaps you on the right cheek, offer the other cheek also.”

It is one of those many troubling things that Jesus said, and I could not seem to sail over it as easily as I did all the others.

It’s because when I read it, I kept thinking of an incident that happened just recently in my hometown. A 91-year-old lady was beaten within an inch of her life, one very well-known in the community and known to my family, when two thugs broke in to her home. She had just come in from watching a bicycle race that was going by her house when they followed her in.

I think they got a TV but that’s about it.

Her husband was home at the time but out in the back doing work in their orchard when it happened. She managed to live through the terrible ordeal after spending weeks in intensive care.

I am having a hard time reconciling the events I hear about each and every day with this verse. I hear about someone breaking into a store and I want to cheer when I hear the shopkeeper had a gun and they used it. I want to defend what is mine, what I have worked for. And I want others to have the right to do the same.

I am struggling with this hard saying today, because I look at all the evil in our society and I think that they are taking over and we have to take it back.

I think of places in my childhood that used to be safe and they aren’t anymore and that’s sad; so many places taken over by thugs and gangs and drugs.

And what if, God forbid, something should happen to my own folks like what happened to Mrs. Kezsler? Could I truly forgive?

No doubt the Israelites struggled with what Jesus said too. After all, they were an oppressed people, ruled over by an evil empire for hundreds of years up until then. They thought He would free them, and He did, but not how they were expecting, but with love, forgiveness, the cross.

And today I guess He came how I wasn’t expecting either.

I realize again, that all battles start and end in the heart, and I only have to look as far as the cross for my answer.

I didn’t plan for this message today, but it seems fitting, the day we celebrate Martin Luther King’s life and legacy. His message still rings clear after all these years:

” Hatred paralyzes life; Love releases it. Hatred confuses life; Love harmonizes it; Hatred darkens life; Love illuminates it “

Join me at the foot of the cross today, in prayer for our nation. I am thankful that no matter who is in the White House, my God is still on the Throne.

Minimizing regret

Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus. Philippians 3:12-14

If there is one thing that pain and loss and life have taught me it’s that if I live each day with the goal of wanting to please God more in thought word and deed, I greatly minimize the things I regret.

I never seem to regret doing the right thing in hindsight, only the wrong things.

Anger, resentment, worry, selfishness…..all those petty little things I let come between myself and others mean nothing in light of eternity. And now, when time and God have mellowed and aged me, well, more like knocked me upside the head, I would give anything to have those years back.

Time that should have been cherished is forever tainted and that can’t be changed, but I can do something about the time I have right now.

I can cherish it. So today I will gather my loved ones close around me like a precious bouquet. I will inhale deeply, appreciating the sweetness they bring to my life while I still have them. And if they are not near, I will remember to write or call.

Dwelling on the past is never healthy, and yet not all looking back is bad, because it can inspire us to change how we live now. Though my heart aches with scar tissue memory of words I never should have said and things I never should have done, I don’t waste my time punishing myself because there is too much love to give now.

And there is no time to waste. Because time is precious and years have wings.

When you need to find your way home

Sometimes it is very easy to get lost amidst all the traffic online. Being engaged in social media can be a good thing, but it can also make you feel lost in a crowd. You look around and all of a sudden you are in a dark forest full of words and soup and you feel like yours disappear as soon as you hit.

Publish.

You remember when there was light on the path, sunlight filtering through the trees. You were encased in warmth of community, of comfort. You were there once, but you aren’t so much now and you are not even sure how it happened.

You didn’t notice at first just when the sun went behind the clouds. It all got to be confusing and noisy and you noticed less and less peace and more and more pressure.

But there is always a way to get home.

As a writer, as a person, as a believer.

To me, that is the best thing about what we believe. With God, there is always another chance to get home. Every moment, every day. We just need to be reminded how easy it is. How easy to remember that we are already wearing the ruby slippers.

My three taps……..

Getting alone with God in a quiet place.

Remembering who I am writing for, and why I am writing.

Open the pages of the Words He wrote to light the path again.

And really, the truth is, we are all daily prodigals aren’t we? Every day we confess our failings and once more He cleanses our hearts, clears the way for progress, and we get strong enough to go on.

He is just over there in fact, standing right beyond that thick stand of trees you can’t see around. It’s amazing just how close He was all along. “God did this so that they would seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him, though he is not far from any one of us.‘For in him we live and move and have our being.’ As some of your own poets have said, ‘We are his offspring.’ Acts 17:28

When I lift my gratitude and focus back to Him, I realize that, like Dorothy, I had everything I needed all along. All I had to do was remember.

And just like that……. I am on a hillside sitting in the Narnian sun with my arm around my Aslan.

Home once more.

Brothers and sisters

My eyes graze over it, and then rest on it for a while. It’s the book my brother got me this past Christmas. I am taking down the last bit of decoration, the little tree that has graced my antique dresser for so many years. We adults stopped exchanging gifts years back, but he cheated this year. It was a book on digital photography because we both have the same camera. He also got me a Seinfeld T-shirt and two beautiful ornaments, hand painted cats from a local shop. He is a good gift-giver, my brother.

My memory traced a line back in time and it was tethered to a snapshot taken of us in the driveway, long ago.

When we were in school, he would always look out for me on the playground. He used to let me ride on the front bar of his bike, before I got my own, and never hesitated to hold my hand on the way to my classroom. I wanted to be like him when I was 4. I even insisted on my own pair of black high top sneakers and to my parents credit, they bought me a pair and let me wear them.

In middle school and high school we passed like two ships in the night, both at home and school. He was the popular jock, and I was the nerdy girl in choir. He teased me for leaving a permanent imprint on the couch and I got mad at him for eating my Taco Bell leftovers when he came in late. And yet, he came to my concerts and I went to his swim meets.

Then we went our separate ways. For years I think I was invisible to him. I wanted a relationship…….for him to see me as a person, not just a little sister, yet I always knew that if I needed him he would be there.

I remember the fender bender I had one year on Christmas Eve, how he was first to show up on the scene, driving in from a neighboring town.

Years later, thick in the battle of recovering from anorexia there came a letter from him. I can still see it resting, fluttering, on top of the bicycle basket where it rode on my way back to work……..tangible hope when I needed it most.

As years passed, every now and again I would get another letter and it would be pages long……..letting me know what was going on in his life. Somewhere I still have them.

And then there was that very worst of times. I still remember him having to climb 14 floors to reach me in the stifling heat of Mexico after my husband died. He was soaked with sweat and red in the face, but he was there. I was never so relieved to see anyone.

Nightmare Days passed with me in a fog. I would be okay and then with no warning I would collapse with grief. And one time he broke down, this big grown man sobbing tears I had never seen him cry, and in a voice choked with emotion he said, “All I wanted to do was take him fishing.”

That was June 1987. In February of 1998 he would face his own shadow of death when he would lose his wife of 12 years to ovarian cancer.

Years have flown by and its hard to believe they have been singing with the angels for so long already.

Life and grief has left its mark on both of us as it does everyone. No one gets out of this life without some battle scars. But we have emerged stronger, and it’s amazing but sometimes I think that pain and grief have a way of eclipsing differences in a way nothing else can.

As I sit here at the keyboard I get a text message…..the first one says, “Rsuctxjcwxvc” and it’s from my brother’s phone, and I smile.

The second one says simply, “Lauryn.” I smile again because what better way to punctuate the end of my story. She misses her Auntie.

No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons,neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. Romans 8:37-39

My brother and me, (and Thunder) circa 1965 or so

Taking back my joy

Lately I have noticed I have stopped doing things I enjoyed last year. Somewhere along the line I started listening to a voice telling me I didn’t deserve it, that what I was doing wasn’t good enough to warrant the joy. I became my own worst critic. Life does that sometimes. It just saps your strength until all the joy is pressed out. I used to come to my own blog for comfort, and lately I just see the things I want to change in it. I have fallen into the pit of comparing myself to others again.

There is a problem with that kind of thinking though. All it leads to is a distorted view of ourselves and others around us. The Bible warns us about comparing ourselves to others:

We do not dare to classify or compare ourselves with some who commend themselves. When they measure themselves by themselves and compare themselves with themselves, they are not wise.

So I am done with that, as of today. I am permitting myself the joy of creating again. No matter what. I may never take my camera off the automatic settings, but who cares? I give myself the freedom and permission to enjoy it anyway.

Yesterday, I remembered a time not so long ago when I danced around with my camera, capturing every sunset, every sunrise, chasing the light. I remembered the joy and freedom I felt and it almost made me cry. I miss that me. I am taking that me back. As of now.

I am carving out my home again on this blog too. I miss my old blogger platform, but I am committed to making this one the best it can be, for you and for me. I will write in such a way that is honest and in such a way that it lets His light shine through, and I will lift up praise to my God, because He is worthy.

You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore. Psalm 16:11

Spirituality versus Religion

There was a song by Aaron Tippin called, “You’ve got to stand for something, or you’ll fall for anything.” I was thinking of these lyrics the other day when I heard about the study done just recently in England. The study was done on people who readily identified themselves as “Spiritual” as opposed to those affiliated with an established “Religious framework.” This one concluding statement encapsulates the results of their findings:

“People who have a spiritual understanding of life in the absence of a religious framework are vulnerable to mental disorder.”

I usually take studies with a grain of salt. I think we take too many studies that mean nothing. We waste money we don’t have on studies that most people will never know about. However, this one I found interesting because in the last 10 or 20 years I have noticed that “spiritual” demographic growing. I couldn’t count the many times I have heard it in conversation. It is somehow okay and permissible to be “spiritual” but not okay to be “religious” and especially not Christian. That stirs all kinds of moral and ethical questions we would rather not deal with. So being spiritual is for many a good alternative.

But there is a problem with being just “spiritual.” There is no one definition or set of values associated with it. Or is there? I have noticed some things about people who embrace spirituality but not any form of organized religion or belief system. They usually say that all religions are the same. Or they reject it altogether.

They also say that there are many paths to God and that all religions lead there. And if they are not religious at all, they will say that as long as they follow what they define as right they will be okay in the end. So if they follow some golden rule of ethics and rules of conduct they will measure up to God’s standards. But they are not really sure who God is either. They reject the idea of the God of the Bible, because what they have heard or read about that God seems mean, vengeful and outdated.

Their God is better. He is more manageable, more palatable. He doesn’t expect them to do anything except be themselves. He is a big, fluffy fuzzball of love. And being Spiritual doesn’t cost them a thing. And the thing is, I can understand why they have arrived there.

I am afraid for this group. I know some people in it. Too many people. And far too many of our young people. Sorry to say, many of them have watched their parents who have been lifelong churchgoers. They have seen a cheap and easy grace and a faith that makes little or no impact on how they live their lives.

Yesterday sitting in church, I felt just a little bit like Paul felt. My heart ached for those without roots. Those who think they are so solid in their belief system they convince others to go down the same shaky path. They are seeking the peace and rest that only Jesus can provide. I want to tell them their desire to be spiritual is right. It has been grafted into all of our hearts like a seed, planted by none other than God himself.

But Jesus is the only one who can make it grow.

I want to tell them how incredibly good it is to love God. And how nothing in this world compares to the joy of knowing He loves me and there is nothing He wouldn’t do to reach them……. just like He has reached me.

I want to tell them not to hang their whole eternal destination on a false definition of Christianity, on what they perceive about Christians.

Because one glimpse of Jesus is all they need. One glimpse of God on a cross silences any argument we could ever have about whether or not God loves us.

The roots of the cross go deeper than anything this world has to offer.

Meet me today at the foot of it with Jesus.

We can heal together.

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