Gratitude

My Birthday is not about me, (not entirely anyway)

People probably wonder why I make a big deal out of Birthdays. Mine and everyone else’s. It’s simple really. It’s because my birth along with everyone else’s on earth is a bit of a miracle. The fact that someone wanted me here kind of blows my mind every single day, and my enthusiasm mingled with wonder and a little bit of awe doesn’t seem to be waning as the years go by.

If you are here reading this post, it’s because first and foremost, God wanted you here. You are of great worth to Him, you and your life!

To let my Birthday slide by as just another day is simply not acceptable, and it bothers me a little when grown adults say they don’t celebrate their Birthdays. Celebrating the day of our birth is a way of honoring God; it’s our acknowledgment that we’re grateful to be here; that we’ve made it this far as the song says, “through many dangers toils and snares.” Yes, especially as the years roll on.

When I think of all the impossible beauty I would have missed if I’d never been born and what beauty I have left to see, it fills me with gratitude that I’ve been given so much; and eternity stretches before me like a vast wonderland I have yet to explore. Yes, this is a thing to celebrate. Apparently God thinks it’s a big deal too:

Psalm 71:6 From birth I have relied on you; you brought me forth from my mother’s womb. I will ever praise you.

Psalm 139:13
For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb.

Psalm 148:5
Let them praise the name of the LORD, for at his command they were created ……

Proverbs 4:10
Listen, my son, accept what I say, and the years of your life will be many.

Proverbs 9:11
For through wisdom your days will be many, and years will be added to your life.

Ecclesiastes 11:8
However many years a man may live, let him enjoy them all.

Isaiah 46:4
Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you.

1 Corinthians 11:12
For as woman came from man, so also man is born of woman. But everything comes from God.

Ephesians 2:10
For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.

James 1:18
He chose to give us birth through the word of truth, that we might be a kind of first fruits of all he created.

So today I will have cake and ice-cream and I will celebrate like a kid. And I won’t refuse any gifts. Celebrate with me today, won’t you? I give you permission. Join me in opening your eyes to the beauty all around us. If you have a porch, go out there with a bowl of ice-cream and enjoy the view. Share a coffee and dessert with someone you love. Eat that forbidden thing you never allow yourself to. Give someone a little unexpected gift. Unwrap the wonder with me today.

Because really, there is something to be thankful for every day.

“To be grateful is to recognize the Love of God in everything He has given us – and He has given us everything. Every breath we draw is a gift of His love, every moment of existence is a grace, for it brings with it immense graces from Him. Gratitude therefore takes nothing for granted, is never unresponsive, is constantly awakening to new wonder and to praise of the goodness of God. For the grateful person knows that God is good, not by hearsay but by experience. And that is what makes all the difference.” Thomas Merton

To the White Mustang

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I saw the White Mustang fly by us and I knew exactly what he was going to do. We all did. I say “he” but it could have easily been a “she.” It was 5:15 and we were all in line to get on the freeway. We were waiting our turn like all law abiding citizens. The light was green and we had just started to move, when he sped by on the right and butted in line ahead of everyone.

Brake lights flashed, I fumed.

I hit my horn out of frustration and said a prayer that the person behind me was paying attention. They were, thankfully. When we finally got on the freeway the White Mustang screeched around and sped down the fast lane and I wished, I wished I wished……I hoped to see him stopped on the side of the road behind some red and blue flashing lights.

This kind of thing happens everyday. Just like people crowding ahead at the grocery store, or climbing over you at the theater. Rudeness is everywhere. You can’t escape it, but you can choose to deal with it in a healthy way. I don’t know why it got to me this morning. I guess something within us all wants to see someone get what they deserve. We want justice…..but at the same time, we want to escape it ourselves.

We breathe a sigh of relief when we get away with going over the speed limit when we are late for work. We want others to be punished but we want a “get out of jail free card.”

There have been many times where I didn’t get what I deserved, Instead I got a big helping of GRACE.

A little helping of grace goes a long way. And when we extend it to others, we are helping ourselves too. It’s like healing from the inside out. When we offer up God’s grace to others, even in small ways, we offer up the Grace of the Cross.

When we forgive, we become a living testimony because in the physical act of forgiveness we demonstrate that we remember what He did and what He continues to do for us every single day.

Maybe it’s someone else you need to forgive today, or maybe it’s yourself. Whoever it is, take a deep breath and give them a pass. Your heart will love you for it.

Dear Reader: I prayed for you today……..

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“If you write for God you will reach many men and bring them joy. If you write for men–you may make some money and you may give someone a little joy and you may make a noise in the world, for a little while. If you write for yourself, you can read what you yourself have written and after ten minutes you will be so disgusted that you will wish that you were dead.”   Thomas Merton

I have found this to be somewhat true and the last sentence made me smile because that is classic Thomas Merton. In prayer this morning, I asked God what I should write about and I felt Him whisper that I needed to thank everyone who has ever taken an interest, read or followed my little blog at one time or another. So this is it. My thank you to you readers. It is extremely humbling to think someone takes interest enough to follow and it is my desire that in doing so, you will know the God I have come to love more.

That you will look in the mirror and see a wonderful reflection of Him, because if you are here, it’s because He wanted you here and He loves you and is interested in every detail of your waking and sleeping life. I also said a prayer for you, even if you don’t believe in prayer or have never prayed yourself. I think people like to know that someone is praying for them, even if they are not “prayers” themselves.

So please know today, as you board that commuter bus, train, car, as you take the first sip of your latte……someone is thinking of you. Praying for you.

And my prayer is that you might feel a little less burdened today.

Look up and feel God’s love rain down on you, and know that I appreciate you dear reader. Embrace your day today, see God wherever you turn, because He is there. See Him today as reflected in nature, the light and innocence of your child’s eyes, the sunrise, the birds that sing the day awake.

You are loved.

We love each other because he loved us first. 1 John 4:19 NLT

A Further Benediction

I'm listening, God.

Last night God really raised a ruckus. Lightning flashed, thunder crashed all around us. That’s two nights of rain now. The night before the wind blew my car a little sideways and I had just finished complaining silently about how, “I just know we won’t get a drop of rain out of this.” Just after my turnoff it started. Everything the sky has held back for the past months it released. Instead of turning for the gym, I went home. I have been in flash floods in the desert where rivers of mud wash away roads.

The lightning and thunder we had last night though, that was something. I almost expected to see a seared place out in front of the house where the bolt hit. A couple of times the flash was blindingly close. The cats hid under the coffee table first, then when they thought the world was ending, they both hid under my bed.

I admit, I love storms. Watching a storm is like watching God do some of His best work. You can’t control it or Him. Sometimes we need that reminder. So last night, we watched the sky light up like daylight, and we heard Him play the drums and cymbals and I said a silent prayer for anyone caught out in it.

This morning I awoke to a further benediction, I got to read my devotions to the sound of pitter-patter rain on the roof. Another storm had silently crept in during the night. But this one was gentle and kind.

And now Pandora is playing someone named Helen Jane Long and piano is falling softly around me. Outside the world rages, but in here all is peace.

Last night during the rain I thought something I always think when it rains buckets, “What if it doesn’t stop?” I thought about Noah and the ark and how he must have felt a mixture of relief and terror when the first few drops hit. And the God-sealed door, and the animals two by two. And then the awful pounding to be let in.

But it was too late. Their lack of faith had failed them, and Noah’s faith has saved a new world.

This morning, everything feels fresh and new…………..and a new day full of the possibility of Redemption.

 

photo credit: google

The Wheat and the Tares

 

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It all started last March when I heard about the two suicides……two young people that couldn’t find any hope that things would get better. One of which was the neighbor of my Aunt, parents finding what was left of her. The beauty and the soul and the perfection that was her life. And then a week later, a phone call. My cousin’s son did the very same thing. In disbelief I almost dropped the phone. To me, there is no sadder horror than that for a parent.

And the recent events in the news, coming one after the other, so much so that we can barely keep track of them all. Planes shot down over Ukraine……a bank robbery, a hostage situation and a highspeed chase on the very street I drove down when I was back home two weeks ago. Bullets flew, hundreds of them. And an innocent bystander coming in to do her banking was caught in the crossfire.

Her daughter waited in the car, then watched horrified as her Mom was used as a shield while they got away. She texted her Dad……”They have Mom.” She didn’t come back.

You would think all this would be reason enough to give up on this life. We live in a world where heaven and hell coexist like the wheat and the tares that thrive side by side. And yet…..

There is poetry and music and art and crowded sidewalks and family and friends, and the smile of a child. And it all adds up to an incredible relentless beauty that tugs at the soul and won’t let go.

I can’t ignore the drops of rain that fall quietly on the pond like a prayer, the relentless beauty that falls all around us on any given day. There is a peace that comes from sitting on a porch with a view that wraps around you.

I can’t account for the joy that beats like wild wings within my chest except that I recognize it as the Holy Spirits quickening because that’s how God is. He shows up.

He permeates the air with His presence especially when it seems all hope is lost forever. He says:

No, it’s not, because I am.

In troubled times we need to gather the ones we love close and get rid of everything else that weighs us down. We need to walk humbly in love and cradle carefully the gift we have from God, and never lose our sense of wonder at the world that was once perfect.

Be surprised each day at what God redeems out of the ashes. Never forget the moment you first believed. He is coming quickly, so my advice is be ready.

Raise your eyes to the Heavens and never lose hope. Remember that even thistles and artichokes yield spectacular blooms.

All praise to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. It is by his great mercy that we have been born again, because God raised Jesus Christ from the dead. Now we live with great expectation, and we have a priceless inheritance—an inheritance that is kept in heaven for you, pure and undefiled, beyond the reach of change and decay. And through your faith, God is protecting you by his power until you receive this salvation, which is ready to be revealed on the last day for all to see.

No road-kill on the golden streets of Heaven

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It was laying there feet up by the fountain when I got home. E had called and said there was a dead pigeon in the garden and for some reason she couldn’t deal with it. This is the bravest woman I know. She wrapped up my foot when it was sliced all the way to the tendon and told me, “Oh, it’s not that bad.” She’d lived out in the patio room at 100 plus degrees so her Alzheimer’s stricken Mom could have her room. She’s also never met a vehicle she couldn’t operate no matter how big.

But from a young age, her Grandmother instilled in her a deep-seated reticence about touching birds: “They all have lice,” she remembers her saying.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized she must have meant a dove and not a pigeon; she gets them mixed up. She knows how I love doves, how I appreciate the backdrop of their cooing when I pray out in my shed. That’s why it made her sad.

I said, “I hope at least it was single…..not old enough to have a mate.” I have read they are one of the few animal species that mate for life; I don’t know if it’s true, but it’s a romantic notion anyway and one that makes me appreciate the fact that you hardly ever see one dove without another by its side.

“Use the shovel!” she said. I didn’t listen. It was surprisingly weightless as picked it up. I wrapped in lovingly in a paper towel, much like my own Grandmother did when my parakeet Peppy died on her watch. She saved it for us for when we got back from vacation; lovingly preserved in a strawberry crate coffin covered with a paper towel for its burial shroud.

I can’t imagine what my Mom thought about that………..

As I gathered the little form in my palms, I said a prayer of thanks to God for its short but meaningful sojourn on the earth; for the joy that it gave with its song in the morning, and at the peaceful close of day. And again I marveled that there will be no death at all in Heaven, not any. You won’t find any road-kill on the golden streets of Heaven.

As I said the prayer, I thought of how I have always loved the Native American’s deep-seated appreciation and gratitude for animal life, and the humility with which they took a life, knowing that the animal had made a sacrifice to sustain their own preservation. They never took more than they needed and nothing was ever wasted.

God created all life, and it’s through His grace that we all live and move and have our being. By His word the Heavens and Earth and all living things came into existence. Let Heaven and nature sing His praise:

He appointed the moon for seasons;
The sun knows its going down.
You make darkness, and it is night,
In which all the beasts of the forest creep about.
The young lions roar after their prey,
And seek their food from God.

Psalms 104:19-21

I leave you with this Lakota prayer I found today……it’s a good meditation for it shows us how small we really are in the realm of creation, but also, how very loved we are. How thought of by God himself. Not a sparrow (or dove) falls to the ground without Him knowing…….

Oh, Great Spirit,
whose voice I hear in the winds
and whose breath gives life
to all the world, hear me.

I am small and weak.
I need your strength and wisdom.

Let me walk in beauty and make my eyes
ever behold the red and purple sunset.
Make my hands respect the things you have made
and my ears sharp to hear your voice.

Make me wise so that I may understand
the things you have taught my people.
Let me learn the lessons you have hidden in every leaf and rock.

I seek strength, not to be superior to my brother,
but to fight my greatest enemy – myself.

Make me always ready to come to you
with clean hands and straight eyes,
so when life fades, as the fading sunset,
my spirit will come to you without shame.

– Chief Yellow Lark, Lakota, 1887

The grace that leads us home

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Every now and then, when I think that maybe I’ve come to the end of my words; where I think I might even quit blogging, I have a morning like I had yesterday. For no particular circumstance or reason I could think of, I felt bouyant. I didn’t walk, I floated. I said, “Good Morning” to most everyone I saw and I really felt it. I looked in their eyes and I saw that my joy ignited something in them. It was infectious.

I call this feeling resting in God’s sweet spot. The Bible defines it as the “Hope” that lies within us. Hope with a capital “H.” He gives me those days, those moments when I least expect them, and that’s when I know that there is no possible way I could ever stop writing about it. The Bible says always be ready to give an answer for the hope that lies within us. This hope is what the world needs more than ever “………but sanctify Christ as Lord in your hearts, always being ready to make a defense to everyone who asks you to give an account for the hope that is in you, yet with gentleness and reverence; 1 Peter 3:15

When you are awash in gratitude you want to tell everyone why; so much so that you can’t keep it from flowing through your fingertips. It’s a natural reaction of the hope that comes from the assurance of knowing that ultimately, it’s Grace that will lead you home. Nothing can replace that sweetness. That hope gives way to torrents of gratitude that become the backdrop of a life walking hand in hand with our Savior.

As I went down to get coffee I thought, here I am all these years later in this good job where God has placed me when I had no clue what to do with my future. A small town girl with no degree who long ago had her life drastically rearranged by sorrow has now been here 18 years. All those times when I had to duck into the bathroom stall to pray, to even get in the door, he heard me.

It’s amazing how He’s provided for me. Even when I made bad decisions……veered wildly off His path, given way to fear, despair and worry. All along the way, He has been by my side. He has taken those little seeds of faith and watered them with my tears along His own mixed in and grown a garden path thats vibrant and rich.

It’s only with a little bit of distance that we can see that our road has truly been paved with grace. And it’s that grace that will lead us Home.

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It’s the fruit that the Apostle Paul talked about, the fruit we reap if we don’t weary and the knowledge that none of heartaches were in vain and that to your surprise is the knowledge that you’ve overcome the world right along with Jesus.

And He’s given me a best friend to laugh with, share with, walk along this path so I don’t have to go it alone. Someone whose own life has been paved with grace as well. The Bible places a high value on Godly friendship:

A man of many companions may come to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother (or sister). Proverbs 18:24

I am feeling this grace today, friends and I want to share it with you. Call upon the Lord today, and begin your day with gratitude. Before you know it, the counting with become a way of life that will stay with you no matter the circumstance.

 

On remembering why we’re here

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The things we take away, the joy makers, that stand out moments of any particular day are so often not the big things, but those small simple moments in between. The ones that let us catch our breath when we have forgotten just why it is we are here.

Living for the weekend is tiring. I leap frog, stagger from one to another and even now, I am pausing inside because I know that once my week starts tomorrow, there will be little time for pausing until Sunday.

Some days you just have to stop. Today my stop was turning on Phil Keaggy and baking cookies to send to my Mom, who has baked for others for years and now it’s hard for her. The box will go out today or tomorrow.

And yesterday, E and I went out to find a frame for the pictures I took of Lauryn that will go in the box too. As I finished framing them, I stood back and smiled.

One day those little hands will be grown but I hope she will never lose the joy of making sand castles……small moments that turn large looking back.

Reach for the stand out moments today. When your little one grabs your hand, cherish it as if it were the last. When a furry body climbs into your lap looking for love, don’t get irritated at the fur. See their eyes, see the God who made them.

Made us all.

Remembering He’s why we’re here, why we’re all here for each other.

A walk before sunrise……..

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This morning I walked in the Holy hush of pre-dawn light before the fingers of the sun had yet to reach over the top of the Superstitions. A silent witness to the earth’s preparations, I was not a participant, only a watchful observer.

I saw newspapers shrouded in their wrappers……words waiting to be read over coffee or tea, dead words in their plastic shrouds. Life is out here, where I walked.

I passed Mama dove where she sat tucked in her nest inside the cactus, fluffy eyelids still closed in slumber. It was still too early even for her.

I passed the house with the big pickup truck that barely fits in the driveway and saw a cat sitting like a sentinel. A man approached with a dog on a leash and I wondered why the cat didn’t run…..the dog didn’t bark.

He saw me looking and exclaimed, “He usually comes with us, this time he didn’t want to.” I smiled and walked on. Rounding the next corner I saw hummingbirds already busy, hovering from blossom to blossom like little jettisons.

One paused to light on a branch and I called to him softly. There he was, so very small and yet what a contribution he made to my walk, what a presence.

Further on, I was treated to a flowering cactus with large trumpet like blooms……the bees too were wide awake. And all this before dawn……

As I made the turn down my street, the sun was a gold blaze shimmering behind the mountain, announcing her presence. The call of a quail came from a nearby rooftop…..rooster of the desert.

I thought that this too, even this quiet walking can be a form of worship, a form of prayer. All this walking, and watching and noticing is me agreeing with God that it’s all good.

All before dawn.

When God sounds a lot like your Mom

 

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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.