The Lamb's lullaby

Here with the sheep sleeps the Lamb.


Here in the dark shines the Light.


Here in the night is the Morning Star.


Here He is.


Here we are.





Here lies a baby, the Mighty One.


Here near His mother, the Father's Son.


Here in the straw lies the King of Kings.


Shepherds bow.


Angels sing.





Immanuel


God with us


this is the heart of the matter.





So often we miss what God has done


Caught in the cares of today


But this little baby became a man


He bought for us - life


By giving his life


made a way.





Immanuel


God with us


this is the heart of the matter.

So here it is, Christmas week and I'm thinking about what to write for the blog. I could write about a tradition that I didn't cover on the face book glimpses page. I could debate the whole Santa vs. no Santa thing. I could reminisce some more about memories and things the Lord has done over the years here in my life. But as I was discussing it with Him I realized I could just write about Jesus. What a novel idea, huh? :0)

I love the little slogan that came out several years ago . . . Jesus is the reason for the season. I like it because it says everything in that short little thought. We can fuss over the commercialization. We can debate whether to celebrate in December what probably happened in spring and whether to use all the pagan trimmings. We can discuss what place a fat man in a red suit plays in our story. But the one thing we cannot do is leave Jesus out of it. Even to those who know not what they celebrate or purposely avoid "the religious aspects" of the holiday, they celebrate what? Christ - mas. Hmmm.

So I cut the holly from my front yard in December right around the winter solstice and pull out my red and green decorations, many of which have the painted face of a jolly guy with whiskers and I bake and share all the wrong sugar filled foods I can find time to create. And in the middle of the hunting for the right gifts and singing music I hear only this time of year, I remember who this is about. He is not just what it's about. He is everything. God with us. The fullness of the Godhead taking on the fullness of humanity. Eternity stepping into time and space. The reason for the season and everything else.

May your Christmas eve, day, week, season and heart be filled to overflowing with the delight of that gift and may you walk in the peace the angels announced to those who would hear. Blessings friends.

The Surprise of Christmas

I attended a Ladies Christmas tea recently and the speaker shared memories of her family's Christmases to open her teaching. It was fun to see the pictures and hear the stories she shared. It was a catalyst of sorts for my own memories. Thinking about what stands out in my childhood memories, I was surprised by how much I do remember.

Some of those memories brought warm fuzzies; while others caught my heart in the sad moment. Still others made me laugh. Memories like lying in bed with my little sister and listening for sleigh bells, and remembering the thrill of getting that purple "maxi" coat. Pictures in my head of little plastic bells hung carefully with tinsel garland in each window pane of the big picture window in the front room, and watching my baby brother and sister with "bots" in their mouth stare in amazment and wonder at the twinkling tree that stood in the corner of the living room. One of the warm fuzzy memories are the traditional family visits to all the great-aunts and uncles and Aunt Regie's scrumptuous pizzelles and kruschiki. (I was a teenager before I learned that pizzelles were Italian fare not Polish like Aunt Regina.)

I remember sneaking out at 2am for just a peek and finding the whole tree loaded with presents. I dug through to find something unwrapped that I could enjoy without getting caught. What I found was a miniature working sewing machine with a foot pedal and all. I was so excited. I sat right down and tried it out. In my 7 year old state of delight I did not take into account the amount of noise produced by a little metal machine running in the silence of what had surely been a very late night for my parents. I was quickly sent skipping back to my bed by my not-too-happy mother.

The year my dad was in Viet Nam was a hard one for all of us. We felt his absence all the more as the holiday approached. Mom worked so hard to make sure that everything was good for us and that his absence would not steal our Christmas from us. I'm not sure if it was because I was old enough to get it or if it was part of that mercy-gift-thing, but somehow I remember being acutely aware that it was really important to Mommy that all was well come Christmas morning.

So Christmas morning came and we all tore into our gifts like we did every year. But that morning was heavy and I felt the weight of it with all of my nine years and then some. As I opened those gifts I made sure the surprise was written on my face despite the lack of care I felt toward the presents. I made sure the delight of a child was shining in my smile and eyes, even though the only gift I wanted she couldn't buy me. It would take Uncle Sam not Santa to deliver the one thing I wanted that year. But I needed to give my mom the gift of joy as much as she needed to receive it.

Then there's the year I decided to "just look" and dug through my parents' bedroom closet, discovering every single gift I was getting. I was 12 I think that year. Old enough to know better for sure. On Christmas morning I knew without touching them what each package contained. It was one of the worst Christmases I ever had! But that morning taught me something sweet; it taught me the delight of the surprise. Today I love surprises. I learned that day the anticipation of the moment is as much a part of the gift, the wonder, and joy as the present itself.

I think in some ways the gift of Christ born as a baby was a sweet surprise that was given for every generation that will embrace the delight of the Father in that moment. Even though it had been prophesied and a whole nation waited in anticipation, he came unexpected, at least in the manner he chose to come. To think anew on the incarnation can bring a fresh jolt of surprise. How could it be? Why would he? He could have entered time and space with a trumpet blast(and he will one day)! He could have come on a white horse and announced his place (and he will one day)! He could have claimed the throne of David with a shout and a legion of angels at his side (and he will one day)!

He came in abject poverty. He came through a young virgin who would be mocked and dismissed by those who knew her as just another girl who had made the wrong choice during the betrothal period. He chose to be delivered in the exposed area of a stable. (The stable could have been a cave. It could also have been the center area of a katalamati - the three sided booths encircled a center area where the animals were "stabled" in the open, yet still protected inside the confines of the "inn".) He chose to be born weak. He chose to be born helpless. He chose what worked for us, what was best for us, the way that would bring us peace, and bring his death. He chose to be become the only baby born to die, begotten not created. I don't know about you, but when I consider the incarnation, every year I am surprised and delighted; I am humbled and moved to tears at his love, his sacrifice that began long before the cross stood on the hill, his choice to put me before himself. In that surprise every year, I find the desire, no the need to make sure he knows that I am eternally grateful that I am his.

Glimmer of Hope

Lately I have been questioning whether I am on the correct path. I've been feeling like I can't do what I need to and thinking that perhaps it just isn't what I am supposed to do or that I am just not capable of completing this task. But you know, the Lord has such a sweet and subtle way of answering those heart questions.

I sat at my computer plucking away at a story that I hoped would become a glimpse of something in Him, since it is Thursday, and I haven't posted a blog yet this week. The phone rang and the number showing on the screen was one I didn't recognize. I answered and knew right away this was a woman who I had told to call this evening. So I left my story and went into the living room to sit in quiet where we could talk.

This woman has a child with some issues that we have also faced with one of our children. She needed encouragement. She needed to hear that she was doing this well. She needed to know that she did not make a mistake and there is hope.

As we talked I shared from the past and she shared from the present. We talked about people in common and ones who were helpful. We laughed at similar memories of different children and took comfort in the similar difficulties that we have faced and survived.

This woman was given my name by someone we both know. A year ago. Kelly gave her my contact info last Dec. and she just contacted me a week ago. She could have called last year or last spring and gotten what she needed from me. But nope. She called this week.

Now you might say, what's that got to do with a glimpse or a glimmer? Well, the topic we discussed and she needed encouragement in is exactly why I am on that proverbial path I was just 3 hours ago fairly sure I was jumping off of. Two weeks ago I hit the same kind of slump and had a friend call with a very similar kind of need. After I talked with her awhile I realized, "oh, this was the point."

So the glimmer is just that, just a glimmer. I am really still struggling under the weight of this and feeling like I can't. But that's just the beginning, because I know I CAN. I can do all things through Jesus Christ who gives me strength (Phil. 4:13), and I know that he has a plan and it is for my good, not harm (Jer. 29:11). He just proved it to me as I spoke His words to a woman I have never met and who waited a year to call, a year so that the moment would meet my need also. There is the glimmer of His glory as he works all things together for the good of (me) (Romans 8:28).

"Will you hold my purse?"

In 1964 I was four years old and one of my very best friends was a pretend friend named Casper the friendly ghost. Perhaps if you're old enough you remember Casper too. Or maybe you saw the more recent movie in the 90's featuring him. My siblings are four and five years younger than me and, being the very social person that I am, it seemed like a natural thing to make up a friend when a real one wasn't available. And Casper, being a ghost and all, fit the bill nicely.

Christmas brought shopping and visiting every year, and that year my Grandmom took me along on some her errands. I don't remember who was with us and there must have been someone else since she didn't drive. Dressed in my snow leggings and coat with matching hat, I carried my little purse in and out of the shops. When Grandmom had completed her shopping we headed to the car. While she struggled to open the door with an arm load of packages and bags I found myself in a dilemma.

"Grandmom can you hold my purse?"

So Grandmom put her packages down in the snow to take my purse for me.

"I need to pick up Casper. He's very cold."

My poor Grandmother was probably ready to trade me for a sane child! And sadly for me, I only remember this story from the retelling over the years. Yet, in that retelling I am reminded of how completely blessed I was to have Pearl Pyle as my grandmother. I was already one of several grandchildren, but she found time to include me. In the snow and cold, she still without question, endeavored to meet my "need".

Lately life has felt a bit cold and my burdens have felt weighty, like I can't quite do what "needs" to get done and I find myself asking the Lord, "Can you hold my purse?" Sometimes he takes it from me and offers me the moment to do what I need to do. Other times he says, "no child, you can do this." And then there are moments where he calls me to choose. But even then he is there to encourage, help, instruct, and give me all that I need. He has included me in his Life and spending my days along side him is enough.

Today is one of those days when my little purse of burdens feels overwhelming and I can't quite do what I "need" to do. There are others who depend on me to do certain things and there is a need for me to get somethings done that feel impossible to accomplish right now, like papers due in short time. There are relationships that need tenderness and loved ones who need direction from me. Then, there is the standard things that everyone has to do like the home chores, the job chores, the errands, and the Christmas list.

So my gracious King who carries so much more than I can imagine and doesn't even need to put his down in the snow, takes mine for the moment so I can put my mind to ease, doing what I think is necessary. He already knows that the worries of today, just like my friend Casper, are really just "pretend" for the Word calls them "light and momentary troubles". He also knows how heavy they feel to me and how real they are in this world. And because He is good and His loving-kindness goes on and on, He steps into my moment with me and lifts the weight of my "purse" so that I can see Him.

What burdens do you carry in your little purse or bundle? Will you allow him to carry them (and maybe even leave them with him?) I must admit that today I need to see a glimpse of Him and to bask in the glimmer that is my hope of glory - Jesus. A glimpse, a glimmer: that's enough for now. For I know He is faithful and coming soon.

One of the most influential authors in my life has been Amy Carmichael. My third child was named after her with the whispered prayer that she too would love and honor the Lord with the fervor and desire I saw in the writings of the godly woman I loved to read.

Her words challenge me to lean into Him further; to listen more closely to the whisper of His Spirit; to trust Him more completely. Some of her words encourage and push me forward when it feels to me to be all vanity and futile. In this poem that follows I found one day the very voice of the Lord quietly calling up my faith to know that my eyes don't need to see what faith declares for it to be real and accomplished. He is omnipotent. He is soveriegn. He is faithful.

I stand in hope of healing. I stand in testimony of restoration. I stand in trust that you will be lifted from any burden or worry today. I stand to call up your faith with these words. He is all-powerful. He is complete in authority. He is continuously faithful. And He is for you.

Not in Vain by Amy Carmichael (Habakkuk 3:17-18)
Not in vain, the tedious toil
On an unresponsive soil,
Travail, tears in secret shed
Over hopes that lay as dead.
All in vain, thy faint heart cries.
Not in vain, thy Lord replies:
Nothing is too good to be;
Then believe, believe to see.

Did thy labor turn to dust?
Suff'ring - did it eat like rust
Till the blade that once was keen
As a blunted tool is seen?
Dust and rust thy life's reward?
Slay the thought; believe thy Lord!
When thy soul is in distress,
Think upon His faithfulness.

Though there be not fig nor vine,
In thy stall there be no kine,
Flock be cut off from the fold,
Not a signle lamb be told,
And thy olive berry fall
Yielding no sweet oil at all,
Pulse-seed wither in the pod -
Still do thou rejoice in God.

But consider, was it vain
All the travail on the plain?
For the bud is on the bough;
It is green where thou didst plow.
Listen, tramp of little feet,
Call of little lambs that bleat;
Hearken to it. Verily,
Nothing is too good to be.

(the collected poems of Amy Carmichael, Mountain Breezes, published by Christian Literature Crusade, Ft. Washington, PA 19034)

Goofy Like Me

Have you ever found that your real desire lies beneath the blanket of wants and thoughts and years? I did. I had a desire, or perhaps more rightly stated a pressing thought, I was to be the mother of six.

At sixteen years old I had the striking sense that I was to become the mother of six children. I don't know why six or why at sixteen this became the burning desire within my heart, but it did. I dreamt about it. I chewed on the idea and tried to picture myself at the ripe old age of 30 or 35 with that many little ones playing at my feet. It wasn't a difficult thing to imagine. I was the oldest in my family and I had been baabysitting for others since I was 10 years old. Yes, 10; we did things a bit different back in the day and I was well supervised and responsible for my age. In the years of carefree living that followed though those thoughts easily slipped into other places and quickly were dismissed, forgotten. I put it away for a day far ahead and set about life.

In the course of life, I married my husband and together we had four wonderful children. After the birth of number four, we decided that my body had done enough of this. Childbearing was not an easy thing for me and each time became a little more worrisome. So we took steps to see that we would not have any more children.

Within a few years I was pining for what should have been. And in short God answered my heart with the adoption of my youngest son. We fully intended to adopt again and quickly, but time and money did not allow us to pursue that dream. It was once again put away for some other time. I forgot about it for a season.

In January 2004 a commercial came on TV about adoption and my thoughts stirred toward what we thought would be by then. I prayed about it. A couple of weeks later I went to my husband and suggested he also pray about it. His response was not so favorable.

"I am almost 50. I don't want a baby. I'm closer to thinking about being a granddaddy than daddy again." I didn't want an infant this time either. The thought of diapers and 2 am feedings caused thoughts more a kin to despair and panic than tender desire. I wanted to consider adopting an older child. A six or ten year old would fit nicely into our family. My husband reluctantly agreed to pray about it. That was all I could ask. After all, if this was a "God thing" it would work out and if it wasn't then I really didn't want it anyway. I put it back on the shelf and gave it to God, forgetting it for a couple of months.

In April of that year, Rich, my hubby came to me and said, "You remember asing me about adoption back in January?" Well of course I did. But I assured him I was "over it" and he didn't need to worry about it. I had thought about it and decided I had been moved in emotions. His response scared me to death! "Well, I think you were right then and I believe God is calling us to do this. Why don't you pray again about it?" I didn't want to pray about it! I had already thought this through and moved on. But I reluctantly agreed.

Fast forward to August of 2004 and the same commercial plays on the TV while I fold clothes. It caught my heart once again. I stopped what I was doing and sat down on the edge of the bed to watch it. Tears rushed into my eyes and spilled onto my face. The desire for another child, for a specific child screamed in my heart like the wail of a newborn baby. To ears there was silence when I turned off the TV, but inside my heart there was the sound of birth as my will and fear stepped aside to allow this birth, or really the re-birth of a dream, the desire of my heart to come forth.

Richard and I were finally ready for this together. We made some phone calls, signed up for classes, talked to our five chidren, and went for the interview with the social worker. A year later, ten days before our second daughter married her sweetheart, our homestudy was completed and the search was on to find our daughter. In that first month I spent more time on the computer looking at faces and on my knees seeking God's face than I did anything else.

On November 1, 2005 we received an email from our worker with information about a child that was just that day moved onto the "list". Meaning, she had been a foster child and that day was moved onto the adoption list, available for adoption. However, when we started this process we were looking for a little boy around 6, then 6-10; then we decided a girl would work better in our family, so a girl 6-9, then 10; our worker thought we should push it to 11, and so we did.

This child was 12. I called my worker without opeing the attachment, and proceeded to ask if she had lost her mind. "This girl is fully a pre-teen, almost a young woman," I told her. The worker assured me she was not crazy and reminded me of her 25 years of experience in this field. She told me that when she received the information from the child's worker that morning and had looked at the girl's picture something told her this child was a "Collins" (our family name). She told me to look at the picture, read the profile and then, if I said no, she would not say another word about it. I agreed to that much.

I opened the attached file and there before my eyes was this pretty little blond hair, blue eyed child that looked almost identical to my niece. My emotions stirred and my mind began to whirl with questions. I read her profile and had some doubts there also. We had said "not from our home state; no biological sibs to keep up with; under 11yo". Her profile violated every one of those stipulations. But my heart was drawn back to that face. I picked up the phone and called my brother. "What was going on with you in 1993? Is it possible that you have a child out there you don't know about?" He didn't take kindly to the questions and reminded me that he was not only married at the time, he was faithful. "are you sure?" The question did not endear me to him. Of course he was sure. This was not my neice. But something in that child both in the picture and the profile drew me to her. I felt like I knew her.

I called my husband at work and expected that he would promptly tell me I was crazy and forget it. Instead he said ok, find out more, and let's pray. And so we did. We left for a ten day vacation a few days later and most of the trip all I could do was think about her. Was she aware of us? Were other families being considered? When could we meet her? Would she feel as certain about us as I did about her?

When we returned home the worker was waiting to give an update and set a date for us to meet. December 7 could not come fast enough for me. When it did I sat the rest of my squirrely little flock down and gave them firm instructions not to scare this poor girl off. Behave was my warning; restrain from the usual teasing and harassing one another in fun. My kids are fun and they love to tease and poke fun at one another. I wanted to break her in slowly to this in case it wasn't something she was used to.

That night came and she came with a list of questions for us. She sat in the corner of the room in a pretty soft pink sweater and jeans with her hair brushed and pinned and looking just a bit nervous. We answered her questions and asked her a few of our own. I thought we did well. I was nervous though because I knew she was supposed to meet another family and then choose between us. I truly do not remember any teasing or nonsense when she was there that night. But she saw right through it. . . .thankfully.

In the car after she left, she told Tiffany (her worker) that she didn't even want to meet the other family; she knew we were her family. The worker asked her how she already knew that. She giggled, "They're goofy - like me!" Two weeks later she moved into our home and six months after that she took our name and legally became our daughter. But November 1 of 2005 is marked in my heart. It is the day I found I was pregnant again; this time with a 12 year old and just a few weeks later the birth of this mother/daughter love became a reality.

I have heard many horror stories of older children adoptions. I am here to tell you that it isn't always so and mostly not so. Almost five years after this amazing young woman stepped into our home and into our hearts, I still daily give thanks that the Lord Jesus saw fit to bring her into our lives. She is a late gift to fulfil the desire of my heart and the fullness of God's goodness toward me and my family.

I share this story with you because November is National Adoption Month and I need to tell others of God's goodness and blessing through the experience of adoption in our lives. More than 500,000 children are presently in the foster care system of this country. 100,000 of those children are waiting for their "forever family". Most of those waiting are older than 8 years old, part of a sibling group, or are a child of color. The blessings and rewards of adopting an older child could not be contained in one book, let alone one small blog. But I would encourage you to pray and consider what your part in the solution to this epidemic of chidren in need would be.

There is a tremendous need for adoptive families , long term foster families, and CASA's. If I can help by answering any questions or point you toward someone who can help please contact me. I would be more than happy to assist you. I can tell you that there is blessing far above what you give when you love the orphan. It is something mentioned more than 60 times in scripture. And it is worth everything you own and everything you are, I give you my word.

Time

I was thinking about some situations that have passed through the lives of various family members and friends and my own life as well. The well worn line of "encouragement" passed through my thoughts, "Time heals all wounds." Really? I wonder how many people actually believe that? Does letting something just go with time make it any better?

Well, if you think about it in science and nature, time allows things to decompose. I guess to the benefit of soil, bugs, and land fills that is a good thing. But if you take a disease and leave it to time it doesn't heal, it gets worse and something small and unimportant can end up taking a limb or a life.

How about a mechanical fix? Broken refrigerator or bike, let 'em sit! They'll get better with time! No? Well, of course not!

And of course the ever popular, stir in millions and billions of years and wha-la . . . you have evolution. Well, but that's a different arguement for another day.

My point today is emotional and/or spiritual healing. You don't just "get over" certain things. You may get past them and function, but big experiences, whether good or bad, stay with us and change us inside. They affect the way we think, the way we respond and relate to others, how we trust or don't trust God, and how we view ourselves.

Take the three women I am very close to who experienced the devestation of being molested as children. In every one of those women it changed who they are forever. It took something from them and time will not heal what was ruthlessly taken. It took hope, the ability to trust others or God, and shattered any self-respect they may have had.

Or the families who have suffered the loss of a child: to disease, to drugs, to a car accident, to war. Those parents will never "get over it" and although I don't know that anyone has been cruel enough to suggest such a thing outloud, I know they have all felt the pressure as life moved forward and a piece of who they are is stuck in that horrible moment forever.

The woman who has lost her children because she was "unfit" and in truth she was. She couldn't take care of herself, stay clean, sober, away from the life of prostitution. Let alone, take care of a few small children. The regrets and self-hatred that come every day to scream anew at her that she is worthless and useless and she can't even take care of her own kids. How does time do anything but make that worse for her?

And yet, while time may heal nothing, there is one who able to heal all wounds. In the Old Testament we are introduced to the name Jehovah-Rapha. The Lord who heals. He is the only one who is able to take even those worst possible situations and bring healing on the wings of hope and comfort. Only He has the power, the ability, the authority to bring that healing.

Those three women I mentioned at the beginning, each of them has suffered and struggled to find that place where they can trust Him and allow Him to touch the tender infected areas of their soul. And yet, through the years that I have watched them and walked with them in it, I have seen triumph and healing come. Usually in small steps with many back steps along the way, but slowly in Him they begin to see themselves through His eyes, through His Word, and then learning to walk in love, forgiveness, and wholeness they have each to some measure found freedom and healing.

Those parents who live daily with the hole of the moment of loss that can never be removed or filled up, I have seen them walk in victory as they press into the comfort and let go of "why" stepping into "I choose to trust You, Lord." In that trust comes the peace, the healing, the knowledge of how to hold onto the memory of that child and move forward. And I believe they taste just a small taste of what the Father suffered the day of the cross. Therein, do they partake of the suffering of Christ?

And the woman, lost and without hope of regaining custody of her children, where is her hope? I pray that she will come to Jehovah-Rapha, to Jesus and find healing and the love she so craves. It is only in Him that she will find any peace from the devastations of life and her choices.

And I haven't mentioned the woman who was raped and lived in shame, feeling that she had "brought it on herself" for years. The man whose fight with alcohol cost him everything important in life. The child abandoned and left by those she trusted and needed. In each of those stories is the hope of healing by the God who is bigger than our issues and our wounds, even when they are life threatening.

Time heals nothing, but it does allow us a place of perception to understand in part that He is our only hope, our only salvation, our only healing in body, soul, and spirit.

Me - a ground hog?

"Bark, bark, bark, ---hooooowl!" The beagle was screaming his distress from the leash in the backyard. I glanced out the window to see him standing in full strain, the weight of the tire swing pulled taunt as he yanked it forward.

"What's up, boy?" I started to yell to him when something behind me moved on the deck outside the side window. I swung around in my seat and there sat a young ground hog on my back deck. He wasn't on the edge of the deck near the yard. No, he was completely committed to entering my territory and was apparently trying to figure out how to open the porch door. I was almost expecting to see his little paw scratch his chin in thought he was studying it so intently.

I popped open the window and scolded him thinking it would startle him and he would have enough sense to run off into the brush or field. He was not to be startled so easily and he turned away with ease and looked right up at the me as if to say, ""Yes? Are you speaking to me?" I shooed at him, and he was obviously unimpressed with my technique. He slowly mozied around to the other side of the deck. All the while Copper is not barking but still pulling, "Let me at him, let me at him, let me at him, pleeeease!" I opened up the window near where he now sat and proceeded to scold him from there. I can't say whether I amused him or confused him. He just sat up looking at me. I was becoming increasingly irritated with this animal that didn't seem to realize that I was in charge here!

So I grabbed a broom and headed out the door after him. This time he did scurry away in proper fear, all of about 4 feet ahead of me! I walked toward him and shooed with the broom. He ran another 4 or 5 feet and stopped. I shooed again and we continued this awkward little dance across the yard and into the brush he has apparently taken up residence within.

Satisfied that he was gone, far enough anyway, I headed back into the house when Copper started the beagle trumpet war cry once more. I turned around and there sat the little brat on the edge of my garden and, literally mind you, just out of Copper's reach. It was as if that thing had measured it ahead of time and knew exactly where to draw the line.

That little ground hog had no idea the danger he was in if the leash snapped or pulled loose from the knot it was tangled in. The dog had tangled himself around the base of something and could not get as far as he normally would have. He also didn't realize that if my hand had landed on a shovel instead of a broom he just might be a dead little ground hog.

I got to thinking about this little incidence though and (if you will pardon the animal to human comparison) I couldn't help think about how often a friend, one of my children, my husband or I have been the ground hog. You know? wandering onto some unfamiliar place or a place I've seen from the distance, but now I decide to go check it out. It looks safe enough, the boards are sturdy and there isn't any obvious safety issues. So I might look around and decide to try to go a little deeper into this new place by messing with the doors. It doesn't seem dangerous to me and even when the warning of danger starts barking at me, that seems far enough off that it's not any real threat. Then a window pops opens somewhere and someone or something starts shooing at me or warning me. Even then it doesn't seem so bad. After all the warning is still behind the window.

then the door opens and the real threat comes rushing at me and for a minute I really do startle and take off, but in my retreat I realize that the weapon didn't seem too threatening. So I stop and look back. The threat has stopped also so I wait. It runs at me and I ,run a little closer to home, but still I stop and wait playing around in the nice yard. All the while the warning bark is howling aloud. Finally I run home to safety only to venture right back out and sit right on the line of danger, almost daring something to happen.

Perhaps you've never been so bold with sin. How I wish I could say I have not either! Because there are times when in my foolishness the door I was playing with swung open and what I anticipated to be interesting or fun ended up in pain and disappointment. The protection of the window was no real protection at all. The shovel came down upon my head. The line came undone and the dog was able to reach.

All of this to say that often we are tempted to venture beyond the area God gives to us. The place beyond may look safe enough and feel ok when we set foot on it, and then the truth of what is there runs after us, or the leash is not tangled and the temptation is able to grab us and bite us and wound us.

Therefore, submit yourselves to God; resist the devil and he must flee. Most believers who have been around for more than a month or two learn or at least have heard James 4:7. I have heard the last part preached and taught and encouraged. And that is good, we should resist, but it must start with submitting yourself to God. If we will not submit to God and stay within the fence he establishes, well, is resisting even option? Yes, but it's a whole lot harder standing where the broom's getting ready to pound you in the head. Staying within God's boundaries is not being dogmatic; it is not being legalistic; it is not being a party pooper. It is wisdom. It is worth any perceived sacrifice of whatever, for it is life and protection and being near to Him. It is for our good and our blessing.

Resting in the days of change

My dad used to say that he hated fall. It announced the coming of the cold, dark days of winter in his mind. The trees losing their leaves were signs of death to him and the smell of musky autumn days was like decay to his nostrils. I never, even as a child, could understand that thinking. Autumn is glorious to me. The riotous colors that burst layer by layer and day by day enthrall my senses. The crisp cool air combined with the warm sunny days jolt my body into a desire for action: walk the dog, clean the house, clear the garden, but do something! I see it as the party before the good sleep.

I can relate to autumn in the course of life as well. It feels like that in my days right now. Busy with teenagers, grandchildren, adult kids, husband, jobs, writing, and finishing the long awaited degree, I am in the glorious days where colors and abundance of life swirl around me like the leaves dancing from thier lofty heights to lay upon the fading green grass. There are moments I yearn for the long, dark, restful days of winter. Maybe life will slow a bit then. Maybe it won't feel like I'm dropping some ball somewhere.

I don't linger there too long in thought. Change happens daily around here. To linger in the desire to that rest would assure that some good thing would be overlooked and never captured again. I breathe deeply and move forward. I have learned along the way that rest happens when good hard work has given way to deep sleep, and rest happens when in the quiet of my spirit I find, no I make the moment, choose the time, to sit at the feet of my Savior and just rest. I then rest in His word, in His presence, and in the promise of His leading.

It took a few years for me to get there. Finding that place of sitting quietly and resting in my salvation, came over months and years of waiting with Him. Waiting while one season completed before the next became tangible and functioning, while we were waiting for Him to work through the details.

Like the days when we waited for the miscarriage to complete, so we could move into full grieving after all hope was gone; and waiting while the neighbors searched door to door for our little girl who had wandered away from a neighbor's house. The three years of waiting for our first adoption to happen, the thirty some times of being told no seemed like a cold night that would not end. But end, it did, and then the new season of parenting - again, began. Then waiting while the years flew by and no way of adopting again as our hearts long for presented itself. Until the day it did, eight years later. Waiting through hoeschooling, public schools, parents' associations, and soccer games for the day I could attend school myself again. Then finding it at 48 years old and seeing the degree within reach through seminary study. Through all of the waiting and the longing-of-heart days I learned that He is faithful. He is also wise and His timing is never, not once, wrong. As those truths settled their way onto the softness of my heart like the autumn leaves floating outside my window today, I began to learn that trusting Him is my rest.

It is my rest when life feels too big. It is my rest when others disappoint me or I disappoint others. It is my rest beyond the days, the busy push of days, the needs of this moment, and the things that I failed in, it is then my rest. Always. Especially in those days of change.

Stink bugs part 2

Not to be redundant, but these little creatures are annoying. Did you know that they climb up under siding to hibernate and under piles of unraked or undisposed of leaves? They will eat your fruits and vegetables and not one or two at a time. No, they will take a bite in this one and then move over to that one until the whole harvest is ruined bit by bit. As the days get cooler they are attracted inside the house where it's warm so they can "bug" us. There is little to ward them off unless you want to smell like stink bug spray.

So if you will allow me to continue the analogy from last week, the little sins and bad habits that we pick up without recognition of their ability to mess with our lives and make it uncomfortable if not destroy it little by little are sometimes not as noticeable as when they are flying in our face and stinking right in front of us.

There are times when they hide under the siding of our "house" in out of the way places that we can't see or notice until the following season of life when we think we have moved forward, only to find these nasty little creatures crawling out from their hiding spot.

Or we have areas of neglect like the unkempt yard with the leaves for their resting spot. Our lives get cluttered with the natural results of life happenings. Like the leaves that fall from our trees every fall there is clutter in our spiritual lives and emotional life that left untended they pile up around our hearts, leaving hiding spots for the nasty little habits and sins that surround them like anger, jealousy, bitterness, laziness, and others. Those things may lay dormant under the pile of "leaves" until the warmth of the next season in our lives brings them up or a storm comes along and blows them aside with enough warmth to stir the bugs to life. Then we may wonder where it came from.

When the storms blow them out it can be a mess. Both the stuff that should have been dealt with before and now all these little critters attached to it are messing up your day. When the warmth of the spring brings them out we may not even recognize that they have emerged as it happens so subtly. But then we see the "fruit" in our lives, the love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control (Gal. 5:22-23) being bitten and ruined bit by bit until our harvest is worthless.

It would do us good to be mindful to rake our spiritual yards and take care of the house. Even when things seem good and life is flowing smooth it is wise to sit before Him and say, "Is there anything hidden that I need to tend to, Lord?" And then wait, look, listen. See what he will show you.

And so I wish you well tended homes, yards raked clean, and the sweet fresh breath of the Spirit to blow freshly around you and through you.

Stink bugs

Around here stink bugs have become a terrible problem. They have no natural enemies and are not native to this area. So their population is exploding. They are not dangerous and they don't seem to harm too much. So what's the big deal?

The big deal is that they stink! They have this horrid chemical smell that is sometimes really bad and other times almost imperceivable. The other big deal is they are a complete nuisance. They fly right into your face, your hair, your food, your clothing. It startles a person. Which can be hazardous when driving. Yeah.

The other night our living room seemed to be a stink bug retreat center. I was trying to take down curtains to wash them and every single fold had at least one of the nasty little creatures. You can't squish them in case they emit the foul odor. You can grab them, but then what? Flush 'em? That costs in water. Toss 'em out the door? So they can fly right back inside first chance they get? I was bravely brushing them into the screened window sill and shutting the window in hopes that the cold that night would kill them all off. This was working fine until a few of the little buggers (buggers, get it? :0) ) until a few of them figure out they could make a quick dash back into the warmth of the room when I opened it to brush a few of their buddies in with them. The escapees flew right in my face, causing quite a loud and disturbing noise to rush through my teeth. At this point I called for reinforcement.

My hubby came to the rescue like a Knight in shining armor with bag in hand, and carefully one by one throughout the house he captured every stink bug he could catch. In all he had captured over 50 (58 I think was the exact count). While he was capturing them they must have been pitching a huge fit. Because the house smelled terrible long before he finished. Both he and I had hands that smelled like those gross creatures.

He finished and took the bag outside to kill them. As he entered the house he heard me calling. There were already 6 more in the living room! He just shook his head and headed to the sink to wash off the scent, ignoring my pleas for rescue once again.

Now I know you're sitting there saying, "Cheri, I really don't care about your stink bug problems! I have problems of my own. I thought you were suppose to give me a glimpse of God or a glimmer of His glory. Well?"

Ok, so I might be stretching this a bit, but this whole deal did give me a glimpse of Him working in my life. See there are sometimes so many little stinky things that buzz into my face, my thoughts, my life and distract, scare, and draw my attention away from where it should be that it takes a nudge from His Spirit to remind me of what is the priority and what is important. And if I play around too much with those stinky little things I find their scent sticking to me in the lost opportunities, the mixed up priorities, the important things that got lost in the shuffle. Then as I go about my days and throughout the week I smell the reminder of what I held in my hands instead of what I should have.

The really good thing is that the mercy of Jesus Christ extended to us in the forgiveness of sin is for every part of our life. The big stuff is obvious, but sometimes it's easy to forget that we need it for the little things too. We overlook the fact that little stuff to us is still sin and separates us or tries to separate us from that relationship with God that He gave so much to enter. But thanks be to God that nothing can separate us from the love that is in Christ Jesus! Repentance is like washing and washing in His mercy, His goodness, His grace is all that we need to remove the stench of this world and the little stink bugs that perfume our days sometimes. Simply kneeling there before Him and saying, "Savior, Adonai, I blew it again. I'm sorry, forgive my falling and strengthening me in humbleness for the next time, Lord, that I may honor you." Or however you say it. That's it and He picks up that nasty little bug and throws it so far from us that there no sight of it and no smell of the scent as His scent of forgiveness washes over and covers. And just like that it's gone.

So as I wash my hands today to remove the nasty buggy smell (again), I am using this moment as a reminder that my God is gracious and merciful in the big huge things and the little-bitty-don't-seem-to-matter-to-me-much things. He is a good Father who knows what harms lies in all of it and provides for our cleansing, even the little smelly things.

whispers

Reminders of who I was
Memories of bad choices, destructive ways
Things I would do differently

Confrontations of accusations
Accusations of things that never were
Still haunt me

Why would they, do they believe that of me?
Even today - all these years later -
The sting of that indictment pulls tears from me.

Why does that still confront me?
And why does it still sting?

I stood before you this morning, Lord
Feeling the weight of my lack,
the weight of my offenses, even those imagined,
But your whisper speaks quietly to my heart.
Your gentle Spirit pulls me to sit at your feet.

In repentance and rest (is my salvation)
In quietness and trust (is my strength)

And you whisper words of wisdom to my wounded heart
And show me the foot prints of the past that led me to today,
to who I am . . . in you
And (now in this moment) I know it matters not
What is said or thought of me

Somewhere in that moment of stillness
I find my peace in you
My rest in my salvation
My strength in the quiet moment of trust
And I know you
are all I need.




A couple of years ago one of my children brought something to my attention. The something was a whisper that someone else in the family had "shared" with them about me that happened years ago. Only what was shared was not even close to true. What was true was not great, but it was nothing like what it had grown into. The humiliation of what they thought of me, even the thought that they believed it, hurt deeply. It hurt that the family member would tell anything like that to my child, even if the child is grown. It hurt that the child would believe such a thing, even if it had been true. But it wasn't true, deeper hurt.

What do you do with that kind of thing? Get angry? at whom? Get repentant? for what, the lie? or the truth, which had already been confessed and repented of long ago? Where do you put that kind of thing in your heart and mind? How do you answer the accusation when it is untrue and the piece of truth long gone? The truth was not overlooked and not minimized in the fact that sin is sin. It was already gone as far as the east is from the west.

I answered my daughter with candid honesty. I would change the truth of that moment if I could, that this was part of the consequences of choices we had so often discussed when she was a teenager. Yet, even after that, the feeling of guilt and the reminder of all those bad choices pulled the joy from me and left me gasping for peace within my heart.

As I sat with my Bible in hand and seeking forgiveness for something I wasn't even sure what, I found a passage in Isaiah that rebukes the listeners saying this is what God has for you, but you won't listen. There was no harsh rebuke in it for me. Just a gentle tug of the Spirit. "Will you take what I have already given you? Why are you bringing that back to me, again? You are stirring up what is long gone. You are pulling the west back into the east. Why? Has it brought you what you yearn for?"

No. It had not. But He could. He did. Before and again. Then and now, he is my peace and all that I need I found sitting at the feet of Jesus. Have you sat there lately?

Not Good Enough

Not good enough, not whole

Didn't, couldn't, do it right or well.

The waves of doubt and accusation

pound against me with a force

The causes my self-image to shudder.



And for a moment I see all my weakness, all of my failings.

For one moment I see only what I am alone.



But I am not complete alone, despite what the world screams at me.

I am not ok and I know it.

I am . . . complete in you.

I am able in you.



You fill up the holes and remind me

I am a child of the Father, the King.

And I am not a child because I am worthy.

I never needed to be worthy.

But I am worthy,

Because I am yours.





I struggled for years with a sense of worthlessness and failings. I didn't need to be convinced of my need for a Savior. What I needed to be convinced of was that He wanted me. Even long after I came to know the precious salvation of the blood of Christ, I struggled with a sense of not being good enough. I tried to measure up. I tried to earn the right. Although I would not have seen it in that way. I understood that working for salvation cheapened the sacrifice of the Lord. "You foolish Galatians, who has bewitched you?" I got it. But the underlying sense of worthlessness created an impossible barrier to move into pure desire. The overriding concern was about me. I didn't like it that way but there was no way around it. It took prayer, perserverence, and deliverance from that strong hold in my life.

As I prayed and others prayed for me I came into a place of better understanding and the chains loosened. As I perservered by the power of the Holy Spirit I came into a better understanding of who I am in Christ and who He is in me. Deliverence came in ministry from friends as they felt compelled to pray for me specifically one fall evening in 1996. I literally felt the binding fall from my spirit. I can't tell you what that was other than the grace of God confirming the work He was doing in me at that moment. It left not an ounce of doubt in me and the truth of my freedom in Christ was unshakable for me from that point forward.

Now that doesn't mean that I didn't fight for my ongoing hold on freedom. I was tempted at times to sink back into woe-is-me and I-just-don't-measure-up thoughts. There were moments, even days when I allowed those thoughts to slip back into my life and reign for short waves. Then He would step in and remind me who I am and to whom I belong, and what He had already accomplished in and for me. In that knowledge always came a rush of repentence and thanksgiving for the merciful, amazing love of my Savior.

Why am I sharing this with you? There are so many people today, even believers who suffer with depression and a warped sense of who they are. If we, as Christians, can be distracted into self-pity or a sense of worthlessness it will hold us back from being the person God created us to be and doing what God calls us to do. It rejects the mighty and holy soveriegn work of sanctification accomplished and being continually worked in us through the Holy Spirit. It brings the attention to us instead of to Him and denies the Word of God.

It is a good and important thing to see our sin and move in repentance. It is not a good thing to carry that stuff around like a badge or weight upon us. (as far as the east is from the west) Knowing we need salvation from even the "small" things is a good place to be. Knowing who we are in Christ is just as important.

I encourage you, whether or not you struggle with depression and a sense of worthlessness, to make a list of scripture that tells you who you are. Ask the Holy Spirit to reveal those words to you and then pick at least one or two and learn them by heart. I know I am carved into the palms of his hands and my walls are continually before him; and I know that I am part of a royal priesthood; I am his poiema, his precious creation, created for good works, planned long before I was born. I know those because the word is part of who I am. I challenge you to make it part of who you are. Even if you already know, press deeper. He has so much to say to your heart. Lean in and listen to his whisper.

When my heart is cold and unwilling
When my eyes don't see
When my ears miss your quiet call among the din of the day
You have not left me
Your presence surrounds me
Encompasses me
You never let go
You never let me go
Your hand upholds me
When I am most faithless
You are most faithful
When I hide from your presence
Your Spirit seeks me
When I come to your throne dragging up the past . . .again
You remind me that it's already gone
When I pull afar
You stay near
Calling my name
Whispering gently
Waiting
and reminding me
That you love me.
I praise you, Lord Jesus
You are today, yesterday, tomorrow
always, the same
Good, gracious, kind, loving
my salvation and my hope.
clc

the dance

My granddaughter began dance lessons last week. She is not quite three yet and so little of the actual techniques are taught. She is learning to follow directions and move along with the music and the others. She has learned certain positions and she has shared her new knowledge willingly, demonstrating just how one becomes an elephant in dance. Grammy was impressed. I never achieved an elephant while dancing, I must say. And when music comes on and all the boys run for the rhythm instruments, my girl usually puts whatever she gets down fairly quickly in favor of spinning and moving her arms about with graceful waves. She truly is Grammy's girl. Grammy's heart still dances even when my body doesn't.

There are Hebrew words translated to say rejoice that really mean things like skip, leap, twist, dance, spin, move in a sacred procession, shake violently. Just a little more expressive than "make glad" wouldn't you say? Our lives are sacrifices of praise when we live "unto the Lord" and the movement of our bodies speak to that.

I remember standing in a Christian coffee house several years back and watching a group of kids "moshing". Watching them through squinted eyes I wondered how could this bring God glory. The funny thing is that those very definitions flew into my thoughts immediately and I remembered wondering what "shaking violently" would look like. Hmmm.

I'm not asking you to agree with me as to whether any particular form of "dance" is godly. I'm just thinking about how we use our bodies to bring glory and become living sacrifices to him. The church in general many years ago decided dance was evil or maybe they really decided it was too much trouble, this is good, but that is not. Then in the 70's & 80's a huge revival of worship dance came into the church through the charismatic movement. Some of it filtered into the 90's and even today. For the most part though, I think it has been put back on the shelf once again too much.

Whatever the church does with dance in the place of corporate worship my prayer is that my grandchildren will find those secret moments of intimate worship that exist between them and Him and in those moments find the tangible dance of the spirit that touches deep and calls to deep. For it is in those moments that I have found who I am in Him, who He is in me, and what the dance is really all about.

The Dance
The rhythm
the movement
entwining of feet
the flow of the fabric
ribbons fall in graceful billows
the point of the toe
a finger
eyes lift to Him
from the heart
not for show
in sharing
from the spirit
submission of the flesh
act of worship
living sacrifice
clc

tasting, trusting, moving, crazy fast

I don't know about your life, but my life feels crazy sometimes. Not crazy like funny or over-the-top. No, crazy like mentally insane. And this usually happens when really good things are going down.

This past weekend was one of those crazies. We got a call on Wed. asking us to come for an interview for a school we wanted to send our son to. Sure, no problem we can come in a week or two. No, Friday. Friday? Like 2 days from now? Yes.

So schedules were rearranged, info passed to who needs it, really discussing and fussing over the details that were being discussed but not in urgency. Run a five hour drive on Thurs. for an interview and tour on Friday. Home on Friday. Shopping on Saturday. Family goodbyes on Sunday and packing. Up early Monday and 5 hours there to leave behind our precious boy.

I expected it to be hard. I thought I would cry on the way home. I didn't. It really wasn't. Not because I don't miss him. Not because I'm not emotional. I do. I am. It was easier in one sense because the reality of his leaving for long term is not real to me yet. But even more, the reality that this was something only the Lord could pulled off. help with the finances so that it could happen; Tim wanting to go and liking the idea (at least until the last minute); even my husband being in and ok with it, none of that was normal or easy. yet, it was easy. It happened and everything fell into place.

The weekend passed and Tim is there and the house if extremely quiet. My heart is assured by this peace that is beyond natural. I know this is right. Crazy fast weekend aside, it all worked out perfectly; or maybe because of the crazy fast weekend. There was no time to chew on it, think it through further, mull it over and discuss it unceasingly. It happened. It is what I was praying for. It's put together and I know He did this. I stand believing that what is left to come together to make this work will come together. For I didn't act rashly; I prayed for three months and then moved when told to move.

And the complete assurance of scripture is that because I am trusting the Lord to work this out for Tim's good and mine, I know that I can't really make a mistake. He will work it out for our best. I trust Him. He has never given me reason not to and every reason to lean on Him.

(Proverbs 5:3; Rom. 8:28; Ps. 34:8; Ps. 37:3-6) Blessings, Cheri

Praising Him for the Pressure

A familiar feeling hit me today. I am overwhelmed, overwhelmed by the various resposibilities that are weighing on me, overwhelmed by my inability to juggle all that seems to be required of me. There are balls falling left and right and it bothers me. There are huge balls that are threatening to crush me if they fall, and so I dash here and there in an attempt to keep the balls from dropping. It reminds me of the variety shows I watched as a kid and the plate spinners they would feature. Does anyone remember those? The guys that would set a plate on a thin pole and spin it, move to the next and do the same, continuing down the poles and then running back to spin the others again, and eventually grabbing them off safely or every once in awhile a plate would crash and he'd toss another up on the pole and spin it. Yup, I feel like that.

I started working part time at our garage again in the office. I started homeschooling Tim for eighth grade while looking for a better option for both him and me. I started my fourth year toward my degree and I am totally confused with what I'm doing there. I have been desperately trying to spend some time with my brand new grandson, Saor. Haven't worked on my writing in weeks now. Been fussing with phones and computers that didn't work. School shopping, end of summer events, school meetings, and all the stuff that goes with this portion of life. I feel burnt out without ever getting started.

I can't let anything go and I don't think I am doing anything beyond what I am called to do. So what can be the answer then? "Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perserverance. Perserverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him." (NIV)

Ok, what I am trying to say is this, I don't feel joyful, but when I think about any testing, any pressure, any persecution (of which I face very little) I can be sure by the Word of God that it will test my faith to develop perserverance. And I want to be perservering because that creates maturity in my faith, and completeness and lacking for nothing. Those are things I have asked the Lord to create in me, to build into my faith. I pray at least daily for wisdom and then I want to complain about the pressure, the weight, the pace, the responsibilities; when in truth I should be praising God for answered prayer!

I don't know how this all will all work out. I don't know for certain that the choices for schooling Tim will work out the way I hope or that I will do a wonderful job on my first assignment for seminary or that I can do the office work and manage to keep up with the teenagers schedules. What I do know though is simple, God's word is true and he is using this to bring my faith into a deeper more complete place, lacking nothing and being granted wisdom for what I need.

So today, I am praising him for the pressure!

Proverbs 17:6

"Do you want to stay for the whole service?" I looked at my husband like he'd lost his mind. Of course I wanted to stay for the whole service. We were only 20 minutes or so into the morning and it was the quiet, reverent, prayer time where we are offered the opportunity to come forward and receive prayer for our needs. Rich had volunteered in the parking lot that morning and was just arriving to our seats. He leaned into my shoulder as he asked, handing his cell phone toward my eyes. I glanced at the phone and saw a text message. I read the message and my heart leaped with the joy and anticipation for the what those words held. Nothing else could have made me react so in the middle of a church service.

"Baby brother meadows born. you can come." My daughter Kristi had delivered her second child and her husband, Dan was inviting us to come see our newest grandson.

I squealed in delight like a child myself, startling some of the worshipers around us. Gathering my things and moving my son out of the row, I stopped to explain to a couple near us and felt my throat tighten with the familiar emotion of overwhelming joy. My baby had her baby; they were both safe.

Saor (Say-er) Meadows entered the world from the safety of his mother's womb at 9:16 am, August 15, 2010 weighing in at 7 lbs. and 19 inches, looking very much like his older brother at birth.

Cadan, Kristi's older child had been present in the bedroom for the birth and watched with apparent ease, reading and singing to the baby. Big brother sang "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" to "Baby Brother" as the tiny new person rested against his mother's side.

When we arrived at the house we sat for a few minutes down stairs waiting. Rich and Tim headed to Duncan Donuts to buy some celebration for when the rest arrived. Even though this is grandbaby number six we knew everyone who could get here would, both our family and Dan's. Our daughter, Melanie was already texting every few minutes to see when she could come.

While Dad and brother headed to the store, I went up with Kristi. The little tiny person lay in the crook of her arm and she lay sideways on the bed covered in a blanket. I looked at her and felt the surge of love and gratitude for the privilege of being her mom. There was my baby girl, my first child, holding her child. She didn't even look tired. Her hair framed her face and her eyes sparkled with pride. I didn't even realize the baby was still attached and the placenta had not delivered yet. Here she was looking ready for the Oscars, well almost. Good work, my sweet girl. I am ever so proud of you. Thanks for this beautiful grandson.

Baby Meadows the second, Grandchild number six, Grandson five, eighteenth dinner table chair for Thanksgiving, came into the world on Sunday morning, expelling a shout for joy from Grammy and a song of joy from his big brother. Saor, you are engraved on our hearts and a beautiful leaf on the tip of our branch. Welcome sweet boy, welcome. Grammy is already singing your song. Thanks be to the gracious and good God, Lord Jesus Creator for the abundance of life and beauty He has brought into my life and the family He has surrounded me with.

I am working on a story about the woman at the well from John 4. I love to sink into the stories of scripture and dig for the treasures and this story in a few short verses is full of them.

One of the things that catches my eye is that she tells the town, "He told me everything about my life!" Wait, look back at the conversation. No he didn't. What's she talking about? But the point is, he told her what she considered to be important points that touched on tender spots; he spoke in details that a stranger should not know. So in essence he had told her about "everything". It convinced her that he was special, sent by God, a prophet. Not quite the fullness of the truth.

Then he proclaims, right out in the open, straight from his mouth, "I am he." She had just talked about "Taheb", "Messiah", "Christ". Now he tells her plainly, "yup, that's me!" Rarely does Christ announce his birthright so clearly and here he is speaking to a Samaritan, a woman, a woman of low morals, and she's who he chooses to reveal himself to? Wow, now I would have picked someone much loftier, worthy, respectable, or reverent. But then, maybe that's at least part of the point. She needed him. She was one of the sick who needed a physician. She was broken and needed fixing. She wasn't put together and on the A list. She wasn't on any list anyone would want to be on. She knew who she was and she knew she was hopeless. Or did she?

When she begins talking religion, because after all what do you talk to a prophet about other than religious stuff (at least those outside the walls of the Kingdom might think so), she shows some signs of hope if not faith. "When Messiah comes he will reveal all things." How did she know that? This miscreant with the improbable moment in history is showing signs of hope, of faith? She seems to be. And Jesus rewards her with the revelation.

Can you imagine the thunder in her heart as his words penetrate her thoughts and understanding? Can you see her face begin to glow? Can you feel the revelation that not only is this Messiah, but he has just revealed the worst about you and not rejected you, but gave acceptance and even respect in conversing and revealing as much as he had? Can you understand the freedom she must have felt as she left that water jar and ran the trail back into town to tell about him to those who have rejected her? I can. I remember that first moment of revelation when the thunder of his words beat within my heart and so many times after as the revelation came and comes afresh and for me. I can see the glow on the friends and loved one as they "get it" when the Holy Spirit reveals something of Messiah to them. I have felt that acceptance and even respect when the rest of the world seemed to have no use for me, but He did. I have felt that freedom that only my Jesus can bring into the moment of weariness and weight. Have you?

Sunday, July 25 we returned from a family dinner out in the midst of tornado warnings and a thunderstorm. As we exited the car a huge flash of lightening filled the passengers side and a clap that announced something close had been hit. It was pouring rain and in the middle of it none of us heard or saw the other family members reaction to it. We hurried inside and dried off.

Later that evening we found the kitchen phone wasn't working and neither was the cable for the tv or internet. We thought the lightening had knocked out local services and called to report it (from our cell phones of course). Sure enough we were informed that many had lost power, cable, and phone service in the area. At least we had electric.

After two days of no tv, no internet, and no land line we were all reverting to 1918 apparel and wonderin' about those strange looking cars in the front of the house. Actually we started wondering if maybe it was more than just a local outage. So Rich checked the kitchen phone line. The bedroom line seemed to be restored but the kitchen was still down. Swap phones out and check, the line did not work. Plug the kitchen phone in the bedroom, the phone did not work there. So neither the line nor the phone were working. So he got busy checking the rest of the equipment. In the end we lost the router (and are still having trouble getting the new one to work properly). The tv Rich got to work but the wii is fried. The lightening had also bounced across to a second tree and knocked a few branches off, blew the breaker to the pond and waterfall, and made a mess of the yard.

Cutting the grass on Tuesday of that week Tim realized there was a huge amount of wood around the tree line and started looking at the trees. Sure enough, lightening had hit one of the trees on a limb and traveled through the limb and down the bark exploding out the bottom of the tree and shooting across the yard to our cable box (and phone line) and popped it good.

Now you know why there was no blog from me last Monday. I had no internet all week (and still not on my laptop). But I started thinking about how that one single bolt of lightening had affected our lives, all of it pretty minor compared to what lightening is capable of, and yet still it affected every person who lives here for days. How often in the spirit something comes into our lives with the potential to destroy and even though we may be sitting in the shelter of His wing, there are still effects from the strike. I don't know about you, but I find it less of a decision to stand for the Lord when it is a major moment and all eyes are on me. Then there is no choice. But when the "foxes are among the grape vines" and causing several minor issues, that's when I'm caught off guard and get frustrated, angry, and fail to walk in the way He walks before me. Just like the frustration of not having internet on my laptop and having to wait my turn for the computer, or knowing that the brand new game that never got played but was opened and nonreturnable is sitting on the shelf never to be played on our wii, and while I run like a crazy lady in a 5K run across the house to reach the bedroom before the phone goes to message, since we have no kitchen or family room line now, in the same manner I can see those small things in the spirit that zap my peace and my oh-so-good intentions.

I also find that the loud noise of the issues also can separate me from what others are going through. Like the four of us doing whatever was natural for each of us, so in the spirit we may cringe and pull away. But what a mistake that is when we retreat from others in our moment of need. We may be embarrassed or frightened in some way to share, but the answer lies in connection to the body. Just like the lightening zapping the source of power, if we allow those issues to separate us from the body of Christ, we also lose power. We are not intended to do this Christian thing alone. It is always a group effort in some measure.

I am learning how important it is to stand firm against the fiery darts of the enemy. And how do we do that? According to Ephesians 6:17-18 we take the sword of the Spirit and "pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests . . .and we keep on praying for all the saints."

The Word of God and the power of a praying saint are undefeatable for we are powered, protected, and pushed forward by His Spirit. Even when we fall it is used for our good and His glory. How can we possibly go wrong?

Small things

I noticed something yesterday with fresh eyes. It was one of those revelations that is more of an "oh, yeah!" rather than an "ah-ha!" I need to be reminded once in awhile of things I already know to be true. Sometimes in the day to day flow of life, things, important things get lost in the shuffle of activity. Yesterday brought one of those moments, and like breathing deeply the rush of air filling your lungs, I awoke an understanding that had been just sitting there waiting for notice.

The "oh, yeah!" was recognizing the hand of God in the small things of my life. When my oldest three daughters got married, each wedding was an "ah-ha!" moment as I saw the Lord doing something amazing. When each one of my grandchildren were born there was that moment when awe and the spirituality of the moment was thick with His presence. I love the fact that the Lord doesn't dwell in those huge moments of life only though. I love that He has chosen to live in relationship with each of us, individually in the mundane, the everyday as well as the huge, spectacular moments.

I was packing my purse getting ready to leave for church yesterday morning. There nearby was a pile of business cards. Now I just had these things made up to take with me to a conference I am attending in August and don't usually carry them around everyday. When I saw them I felt a "nudge" to take some with me and so I grabbed a few and popped them into the pocket of the purse. I attended church with my parents in Harrington yesterday, having the opportunity to sing. After the service the guest pastor came over to comment on my song and asked if I would come to their church and sing. I handed him the card I had been "nudged" to bring.

I have been praying for more opportunities to sing. I don't call people and ask for opportunity or time in their service and I have no desire for a "singing ministry". I just miss singing, so I asked the Lord to open up a couple of doors. I wanted the chance to sing for others and in the process hoped to bring God glory and bless Him. Here in this small thing, this little desire of my heart and the small prayer request that would not have been a big disappointed if He said "No you've already had that day. It's over.", in that small thing, the "nudge", the card packed, the invitation, the giving of the card, I was reminded that He is involved in my small things, the little desires of my heart. He is constantly orchestrating my path to bring into the fulfillment of His plan. It's part of the relationship.

Now you might be thinking, "big deal, she carried a card! Isn't that what cards are for? How's that God's hand?" All I can say is those small moments of ordinary things bring His presence in my everyday life into focus and remind me that He is present, yes; but more He is looking for relationship with me, daily, on-going, involved in my days relationship. And by the way, He's looking for the daily, on-going, involved in your days relationship with you, too.

The Why's - Remembering Cora

Why do bee stings hurt?
Why does that noise hurt my ears?
Why is milk lumpy?
Why do you have sooooo many freckles?
Why can't I touch the blue up there (in the sky)?
Why, Mommy, why?

My children's questions made me laugh.
My children's questions drove me nuts sometimes.
My children's questions stirred wonder in me,
And caused me to recognize the why's inside of me.


So often I ask why.
Why Father?
Why them?
Why that child?
Why like this?
Why now?
Why? WHY? why?

And I see how small I really am.
How big you really are
And I know
There will be a day of understanding.
One day
When we see you face to face.

The why's won't matter.
They won't even exist.
The perfect clarity of your wisdom and timing will fill our understanding.

Until then Father
I am content to be your child
filled with unanswered why's
and learning to trust you more.


Four years ago today, dear friends of ours lost their five month old little girl to SIDS. It was devastating to them and to those of us who love them. Watching them suffer through the days of waiting while the baby clung to life, sitting and praying for healing for her, strength and faith for them, wisdom for the doctors, pulled at our own faith and gave us moments of overwhelming anger and questions. Why would God allow such a heartless situation to people who are so faithful and love him? And we had prayed in faith for Cora's restoration. So why didn't God raise her up? Why would he give life only to require it back in such short notice?

I remember standing in the back of the room at church during the worship time, holding Cora and feeling her little chest move with the effort of sound. Then realizing she was responding to the music and even to the feeling of the moment. And for a brief glimpse I saw her worship.

The movement of her tiny mouth, baby noises, baby nose, wrinkled with the effort.
a sense of sweetness floods my soul as I watch her in my arms.
How cute, my thoughts.
And Your whisper breaks into my thought,
Not cute, awesome, inspiring, worship.

In the middle of a time of worship, the people sing, stand, kneel, cry.
This little one joins in the moment, her heart tuned to Your Spirit and
The movement of her tiny mouth, baby noises, baby nose, wrinkled with the effort
Became the sweetest of praise among us.
Pure, innocent worship lifted from her tiny mouth to your Glory.
I stand in awe that even this littlest among us responds in worship.
And she responds with the movement of her tiny mouth , baby noises, baby nose, wrinkled with the effort, a true worshiper in Spirit and truth.

Yesterday our pastor spoke on a faith myth, "If you just believe, have enough faith, everything will be fine. If you just believe hard enough . . ." But life doesn't work that way always. The rain falls into the lives of unbelievers and believers alike. Death still has its moment that appears to be a victory. Dispair and grief are words that hold full meaning in these kinds of moments. So what good does this faith do for us then?

It is our hope, beloved. The hope of glory, the promise of eternity, the truth that it doesn't all end here and now. We have a tomorrow and there will be a day for those who know Christ when there will be no more tears; death's victory is swallowed up in the empty tomb of Christ and we can know in faith that we too will see that day. Cora is not lost to us. She is only away to a life we will know in full . . .someday. When the trumpet shouts and the Lord returns, or when each of us in our own appointed time step through that same door. In that day we will witness her worshiping at the foot of throne, casting her crown before him, and others we have missed and longed to see again will likewise be doing the same. The questions will disappear, for we will know in truth and completeness. Best of all, we will be with Him. Jesus and all that He is will fill our presence in a way that here and now we can only "taste and see", but then we will know.

So for now I can only imagine Cora as she worships at the throne, casting her crown before him and singing with joy. I look forward to the day when I too can cast my crown and sing before Him who is, who was, and who is to come.

He prayed

Of all the days it was today
He chose to say it aloud
Doesn't happen often
rarely spoken

But today was deep blue
My heart felt so heavy
It seemed I could never measure up
To all they seem to need from me

The weight of my lacking as a mom
Crushed my spirit
My weary heat-spent spirit
And I could not be anything
To anyone
In this exhausted state.

So I laid on the bed crying
As silently as I could
So not to upset them
Or so I thought.
And then it happened.

"We should pray for mom."

And then he did.
He laid his hand of faith
On my shoulder
And he prayed.

He prayed with wisdom
beyond his tender 10 years
It was good
It was real
It was amazing
And that would have been enough.
encouraging enough
Cradling my heart in love.

But then it came
He cuddled up on the bed next to me
And stated clearly
"I'm glad you're my parents. I wouldn't want anyone else."

Who could have seen that coming?
Who could have guessed at that?
He prayed
And then became the very answer that I needed.


I wrote this three years ago while we were on a family vacation. I was so worn out and tired and I couldn't seem to please anyone, even in the things I was doing right, which wasn't many things that day or the day before. Some of it was them, but some of it, maybe a lot of it, was me. I needed to rest at the feet of Jesus and be reminded of who it is that is my strength. I had found myself unreasonable and yelling and angry when it was way beyond the moment. Ever been there? The conviction was heavy, and the repentance came swiftly. But somehow the enemy saw the door of opportunity and slinked through to condemn and bite me with accusations and reminders of past failures. He reminded me of how often I had yelled recently. He reminded me that Dad was really fun, but Mom was the party pooper. He reminded me how angry I sounded the whole week whenever anyone spoke to me. He reminded me that these two youngest children of mine were extra treasures that the Lord had entrusted to my "safe" keeping and he reminded me of how much I was failing in this responsibility. And I listened. I absorbed the condemnation and the lies as well as the half truths. I accepted it like candy and didn't question the bearer of such words. They floated into my thoughts with a gentle rush that never alarmed my weary and tired mind.

Now I know better. I know how to raise up the shield of faith and put on the helmet of salvation. I know who I am in the Kingdom and I know to whom I belong. But I was weary and I needed the Body to remind me and to hold me before my Savior's gentle loving healing. I didn't want to "ruin" any more of their fun though and so, I slipped away from my family and laid on the bed to cry as quietly as possible, feeling like failure and VERY sorry for myself.

That's when my son came in and heard me. I tried to pretend I was just sleeping so I wouldn't upset him. But he had already seen and had already been given heavenly orders. "We should pray for mom." His prayer was so to the point and hit all the marks. I knew that the Lord was reminding me that we are children in His Kingdom and need to approach him as such. I knew that the Lord was able to use whomever he chooses to use and that day in late June in the mountains of PA, He chose Tim.

Now I would not have chosen Tim. Not just because he was a 10 year old, but also because up to that point we had seen very little interest spiritually from Tim. I would not have expected him to grasp there was a need, let alone a spiritual need in mom. But there it was. So many things revealed in one short moment.

Jesus reminded through my child, that I was the Father's and needed to come like a child. He showed me that He is working in the life of this son that I saw no indication of His hand, well not much in the child's words or actions. And then the final lesson, Tim never cuddled. Not even as a baby. He didn't encourage. It is not his gifting. But that day (and many since) he cuddled up right next to me and said the only words that would have washed me in the living water of truth and reminded me that I serve an awesome, mighty, loving God who is never late and never tired; who is long suffering and kind even when I have worn out his last nerve. (Does the Infinite Almighty have a last nerve? hmm.)

I had a day similar to that day just today. Only I wasn't completely lost and frazzled. I didn't need to pretend sleep and cry or feel sorry for me. And Tim didn't come to pray over me. However, when I came home and was thinking about what I would write today or pick to print from my writings, I couldn't find what I started to write the other day for this blog. But I found this poem. And again I am refreshed and reminded that I am His and it's "not by might and not by power, but by My Spirit says the Lord." (Zech. 4:6)

In His time

Growing up I was the kid that always had a journal hidden somewhere and a book of poems that I wrote and collected. I had pen pals from 4 different countries at one time and when we moved home from Michigan I wrote to my friends and a few others for the first several months and into the first year. That was a total of about 20 pen pals in Michigan alone. Think about the postage my parents paid for!

In high school I had the same English teacher for tenth and twelfth grades. Ms. Alvarez encouraged my writing and I would turn in “extra credit papers” just to get her to critique them. She used to teasingly tell me that she was going to have to start charging me a fee for editing. I turned in papers on anything and everything. She even made suggestions for topics a few times.

I loved to write. It was part of who I was. When it came time for college though, I applied to nursing school. I remember Ms. Alvarez asking me what I was doing after high school and telling her I was heading to the beach to nursing school. I will never forget the conversation standing in the door way of her classroom.
“Nursing school? You aren’t going somewhere for an English major?”
“No, I applied to this little school and got in. They only accept a few girls each year. It’s really an honor to be accepted.”
“Honor or not, you won’t be hearing congratulations from me on that. You were meant to write, girl, and you’re wasting it.”

I was sorry I had disappointed her. I learned a lot in her class and I wasn’t walking away from writing. In truth though, I did sort of. I continued to write all through nursing school and through the days of illness that brought me home from there. I wrote when I had to quit because I had missed too much time and when I decided not to return. I wrote when I got married and when I started my family. I wrote about my family and letters to my family. I kept journals and wrote poetry and kept the piles of books hidden in the back of my closet.

Years passed and I continued to write never really thinking about what to do with “it”. But from high school to present there was a continuing longing to be in school. Not necessarily for an English degree, but a deep sense that I wasn’t done. Coming to know the Lord and see him shape my writing in a more defined direction was interesting. I had no idea what God was doing, I just wanted to be obedient and serve him. So I wrote. I wrote women’s Bible studies and homeschool devotionals; I wrote letters to my children and recorded our journey through the adoption process. I wrote letters of encouragement to some my youth group kids and to my babysitters, to my family, and as ministry to those far from home. I used the opportunities I had to write. All the time my longing was to do something to further my education.

For a long season I didn’t think I would actually ever go back to school. I was busy with a house full of children and homeschooling. At the encouragement of friends and family I made an effort to have something published and it was not accepted by any publisher. (Of course, I had no idea what I was doing and just sent the manuscript out willy-nilly to any publisher I ran across an address for.)

By that time, the longing to return to school had become a push in my spirit and I started to talk to Rich about it. At first he didn’t say much to encourage or discourage. When the church we attend offered a Bible school with several college level courses we both agreed this was something I needed to do. Those courses were a strong layer building toward something I was truly unaware God was doing. Then in the fall of 2002 I decided to do some distance learning classes through the community college. I did three and loved it. Then the funds and the time dissolved and I was not able to continue. I was disappointed, but I had learned to trust these things to the Lord along the way. At that time I was thinking of a teaching degree. As the years passed by and the longing continued and even increased, a more defined direction began to emerge.
In late spring of 2008 our church’s bulletin contained a paper that advertised a satellite program that would be initiated in our classrooms in relationship with a seminary out of Plymouth Florida. I looked at the paper and I remember thinking, “Lord, I would so love to do that!” But I put the paper aside and moved on. The next week the paper was once again in the bulletin and something stirred in my heart almost in an ache in desire toward that. I thought there was no way we could afford this and I still had kids at home and now was also committed to watching some of the grandchildren for several hours a week. It just didn’t seem possible.

By the third or fourth week though I was really stirred in my spirit and I prayed about it. I simply felt the nudge of the spirit to talk to my husband. So after church, standing in our little galley kitchen eating lunch together, I approached the idea. He grinned wide like the Cheshire cat and said, “I’ve been wonderin’ what was takin’ you so long.” We didn’t make the decision for me to go that day but we did agree I should attend the meeting that the church was holding for more information and that we would both continue in prayer concerning it.

In the fall of 2008 I started the B1 program (Be Successful in Your Ministry 1) in Love of Christ Church as part of the satellite program for International Seminary. In the last two years I have learned so much and my thinking has been challenged with books I would not have picked up on my own. My writing has taken a more defined purpose, although walking three paths at once it almost seems. The Lord continues to bless us with the means, the time, and more.

Through the years of waiting for this day, I studied and leaned into whatever the Lord set before me in an effort to serve him in love. I never expected to receive anything back except a strong relationship with my Savior. Thursday I found a moment of grace that reminded how kind and abundant our God is.
I applied to the school for what they refer to as “life credits” this spring at the end of the second year. These are credits given for personal study and ministry participation. I turned the paper in and heard nothing for a few weeks. Finally I called the school and left a message on Friday afternoon. Monday morning the woman in the Distance Learning Dept. called me back and said that I did not have enough marked on my paper to receive credit toward anything. Ok, I was a little disappointed, but I really believed that if I had earned it somehow in life then it would be granted to me. So I set my head toward year three. She wasn’t done though. She told me that the supervisor had suggested that I fill the paper out again and add to it all that I had learned. He had said that from the summary I included that I had not taken enough credit. So she email me the form and I printed it off, sat at my table with catalog and reviewed what the classes were and whether I had already learned it along the way. When I completed the paper I thought to myself, “I made a mistake here. This is too much.” And so I allowed it to sit for 2 days before finally deciding to fax it in.

I sent it with Rich Thursday morning to fax to the school and in the first two or three hours after he left I picked up the phone to call and tell him not to at least four times. I never did though and he faxed it. A short while after he did my phone rang and the number was a Florida number. I answered hello and heard the woman’s voice I had spoken with on Monday saying “I have some very good news for you.” And she proceeded to tell me that I was skipping year three and heading into year four.

I filled out the enrollment and mailed it Thursday afternoon. I am now a senior in the International Seminary Bachelor of Biblical Studies program. I tell you that not to brag. But to remind you. Our God is gracious and his word promises to restore the years that the locusts have eaten. There were years when I felt I had missed God’s calling by going to nursing school and not to the university for an English major. I even felt that the longing was not to be fulfilled because I missed God’s plan. But you can’t miss God’s plan. Not if you are seeking his face and your desire is Him. He works the events and choices in your life to line up with the path he wants you on. He can do that. He is God after all. It is comforting to know that my choices when placed in His care bring me full circle into His will and His way in His time.

Psalm 37:4 says “Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desire of your heart.” When your highest desire becomes him and him alone, he will answer you in abundance. Now that does not mean that I was always in that state of mind either. He also knows we are dust and that we fall. That is why there is mercy (not getting what we deserve) and grace (getting what we don’t deserve). But setting my heart on him was something that still rings true. If he takes the schooling away without the chance to complete it, I know that while initially disappointed, I would in the long run know it is his plan and so be at peace in that. Delight yourself in the Lord; that has been the key for me. Setting him in that place of honor above all else in the heart. I believe that longing that pushed me was a push of the Spirit toward the path that He desired for me. As I turned my face toward him he continued to shape and call, to pull and open the doors as they needed to be opened. There is nothing that is wasted. It is all useful in his hands and in his timing. I felt like I missed it many times and that I had wasted time and money along the way. But He had it all under control. He knows our heart’s desire and trusting it to Him is never a mistake.

Pinocchio

I was invited to speak at a shelter last week. Blessed and excited I headed up to Cititeam ministries in Chester to share what God laid on my heart. I was so impressed with the quality and function of the place. They serve a large number of the poor and homeless in the city. Tough area, but tender crowd, at least several of the ones I spoke with. Eight-teen men in the program, getting clean, studying the Word, and working hard to stay clean in an environment and area that does not support or encourage them. But the ministry does. I was really humbled to look out at the faces of the men and women, more than 50 I would guess, to see many hungry hearts. I ran through my little talk and sat down. Then someone yelled up, "Hey lady, aren't you gonna bless our meal?" So I stood up and prayed. We stood for a few more mintues waiting to be called into the dining area and one of the woman stood up and asked to sing a song. She picked up the hymnal and started singing out Blessed Assurance. During their meal Rich and I had the opportuniity to walk around and ask them if they needed prayer and just talk with a few of them. I was very aware of the abundance of my life and I wondered if I would walk in the joy that I saw in several of these folks if I was homeless. I hope I don't have to find out, but I know that the joy and peace that is deeper than circumstance is real. I have experienced in other ways and I saw it in the faces of my brothers and sisters at Cititeam Tues. evening. This is the message I brought to them.

Anyone familiar with the child’s tale of Pinocchio, at least the Disney movie? It is an old Italian tale of a kind but lonely toy maker who creates a special puppet and imagines it’s his son. A good fairy comes and gives the puppet life but he remains a wooden boy. In the story Pinocchio longs to be real and tries and struggles to do the right thing. Time after time he tries but fails. Even when he tries to be good, somehow he still gets into trouble.

Can you see yourself in this story? I can. I spent years feeling like I was not real, like no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t be good enough; I couldn’t measure up. I thought I had to meet the rules head on and be perfect, and when I couldn’t, when I failed over and over, I began to see that I wasn’t good enough, I couldn’t be good enough. I was always going to be a failure. It felt like although there were “no strings on me” I was nothing more than a puppet.

Now like Pinocchio, I made my own choices even if I wasn’t “real”. I made naïve, sometimes misinformed and sometimes totally rebellious “I don’t care what you think” stupid choices. And like Pinocchio I found myself in a place that was supposed to be “Pleasure Island” only to find out that it was actually a place of torment and punishment.

I also thought of myself as a reflection. You know the things you sort of see in water or a window. It’s you, but not really. It’s there, but not really. It does everything you do, but not really. That’s how I saw myself. Just a reflection of someone or something more real. I didn’t know who I was or what value I had. Like Pinocchio the reflection of me wasn’t real either. In fact, with just a breeze or a smattering of rain the image changed, disappeared, or became distorted.

God sees past the reflections of our lives to the reality and he knows that while “we are dust”, we are His dust; created with purpose and to be His treasure. Remember old Geppetto? He loved the little wooden boy even with the ears and tales and after all the bad Pinocchio had done. In fact, he loved him so much he went to find him and rescue him. We have a heavenly Father who also came to find us in the form of His Son. He didn’t care that we had grown donkey ears and tails from being mean or nasty and he didn’t care that our noses were impossibly long from the lies we had told and lived. He didn’t even care that we are dust. He cared that we are His and that we needed rescuing.

In the book of Ephesians, chapter 2 verse 10 Paul writes, “For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” The word workmanship in the Greek is poiema. It is the word from which we get our English word poem. It carries the connotation of something precious or artistic, a piece of art. That is how God sees you, a priceless creation of His work that is worth dying for. This is one of my healing verses. When I doubt my value or hear the old song that I am just a reflection, just a Pinocchio, I quote this verse to myself. I was created with purpose (good works, prepared in advance) and I was created a precious piece of Hand-of-God made art, and best of all I was created in Christ Jesus, so there is eternal value in me. Since I was created in Him and I am a new creature in Christ, I don’t have to “measure up” and I have more freedom than I ever knew was possible before. So I can honestly sing, “There are no strings on me!”

There is another verse that made a difference for me also. In the book of Isaiah the prophet spent the first part of the book outlining everything that people of Judah had done wrong and pronouncing judgment. But in the end of the book he outlines Gods plan for restoration and gives some of the clearest words about the Messiah, the Christ. In chapter 49 verse 16 he writes, “Would a nursing mother forget her child? Yet, even if she forgets, I will never forget you. I have carved you into the palm of my hands and your walls are continually before me.” And then a little more than 700 years later Christ came and did that literally. When he received the nails he carved you into the palm of his hands. Marks he carries into eternity. Those who enter eternity knowing him will find they are healed, completed, whole in a way that isn’t possible here. But when we look at him we will see the marks of love that will be a continual reminder of the cost of his love for you.

He came, he rescued, he carries the reminder of the cost, but he never ever insists we receive any of it. That’s the point. We are not puppets, we are not reflections, we are poetic expressions of his love, we are his treasures, and he has done everything he can to make that relationship work. It’s up to you now. Do you know him? Have you accepted his love? Do you want to be real and know freedom like you’ve never known and love that is complete? This is a personal decision made as an individual and no one can do that for you. This is between you and Jesus. The Bible says when we confess our sin he is faithful to forgive it. So I challenge you today to ask him, test him and see if what he says isn’t true. You won’t be disappointed. In fact you just might find that you are “free”, “whole”, or even “real” for the first time in your life. And if you do be sure to tell others!