Warm me

The cold darkness settles 'round me

I find myself once more questioning

Who Am I?

Am I really called to this?

Do I really belong?

Am I enough for the challenge?

Am I able?

As the darkness presses into my being

Blotting out the memory and the knowledge

Of what I know, of who I am

I feel myself spin

I feel a sense of loss within

But then quietly

Out of the Life that has become mine

Out of the Love that over flows measure

Out of the peace that cannot be taken from me

Even when I've surrendered it.

The quiet peace screams

In the silence of the darkness

And I know that it is not about who I am

But Whose I am

Not where I belong

But to Whom I belong

It's not that I need to be enough

I know Who is enough

And the cold of the darkness recedes into the shadows

As the Light presses in and warms the dark cold corners of me.

I can?

I can do all things through Jesus Christ who gives me strength. Philippians 4:13

So does that mean all things?

Are there conditions?

Are there limitations?

How do I receive that strength that is referred to here?

According to James Strong in his Exhaustive Concordance the Greek word "pas" means all, every, all things, every thing. So, all.

I'm not feeling very capable of handling the load I have. I have probably taken on things that don't belong in my schedule. But then there is very little that I can see as extra. Perhaps you can relate to this? There are days when I feel like I just cannot do a good job at anything because I am spread so thin.

And so between laundry, dishes, bookkeeping at the business, running to Va once or twice a month, being a parent of two teenagers (you'd think I could do that blindfolded by now, wouldn't ya' but nah, not a chance), researching and writing papers for my degree, trying to eat healthy and exercise (who knew how much effort and time that takes!), writing my adoption book and writing my novels (yes, I have one about done and 2 others begun), then there's the scrapbooking consultant job I signed onto (creative memories), not to mention husband, adult children, grandchildren, and friends, and of course writing a blog weekly (Stop laughing!, no really, I do try), research for the books, and is there time to relax (well, if you look at my face book activity and my video viewing you would think there's plenty). In all honesty though, I know this is do-able. I just need proper expectations and I need to meet a few conditions and understand the limitations that I see applied and implied in this scripture and connected verses.

Paul wrote this from a jail cell. How is someone hopeful whose writing with prison guards outside the door? Paul was. It was possible for him and for me in my circumstances because my ability to do all things is not based on my ability but on Christ Jesus who gives me strength.

So wait, back up a minute, conditions and limitations? Yes, I believe there is. First Paul makes it clear that this is based on his relationship with Jesus and on his understanding of who he is in him. "through Jesus Christ". Jesus said it also in John 15:5 "He that abideth (to stay in a given place, state, relation, or expectancy, abide, continue, dwell, endure, be present, remain, stay, tarry) in me and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit: for without me ye can do nothing (no thing)." If I abide, if I live in that place, state, relation of "him in me and me in him" then I can do all things, and if I don't live in that place, then well, I can do nothing. So the condition is to abide in Christ and the limitation is that if I don't live in that place then this doesn't apply to me.

In another place the psalmist counsels the reader to "delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart." But what has that to do with this? Well, the desires of my heart were exactly what is so heavy for me right now. The weight of raising two adopted teenagers when I could be done parenting (in this level anyway) and fully embracing my grammyhood without contest with my mommyhood is one of those things. Teenagers, in case you have never dealt with any, are for many purposes tall, strong, mouthy two year olds. Perhaps I'm being a bit harsh . . . on second thought, no I'm not. But that's a topic for another blog day. The degree is ofcourse the delight of my heart, but right now it is really a weight to try to find the time to research well, and write well, the papers that represent my thoughts and to do them in a timely fashion (which is not happening at all). But they are and have been the prayful, hunger of my heart for a long time. With the blessing comes the responsibility within and staying in that place of delighting my self in Him, realizing that he after all really is the true and deepest desire of my heart and in that I can do nothing apart from him. Why would I want to?

So the condition is to delight in the Lord and the limits are that he (not me providing it for myself or through anyone else) will give (but it does not promise how or when), he will give and in his strength.

Ok, one more. Nehemiah 8:10 "the joy of the Lord is your strength." He said to Israel mourn not, because the people wept when they heard the words of the law. But their leader told them this day was holy so don't weep, the joy of the Lord is your strength. Our days are equally holy before him for we have entered a sabbath rest with the resurrection of Christ and in that holy rest there is a place of joy for the Lord has borne our sorrow and shame and redeem us to be his own, restored us to right relationship, and called us his bride. How could I not find a place of joy in that?

I don't know if I will ever find a way to really balance this life I have. I don't know if I will live one day when I don't forget or neglect something. I don't know if any of this will matter to me in ten years. But I do know that I can do it. Not because I am strong and capable, but because I recognize that I am weak and useless aside from Jesus who delights in giving me strength and ability to do what is beyond me. He knows the deepest desires of my heart and has over and over given me the joy of seeing them come to life. I have living proof of that daily each morning as my kids rise and call me "mom". I have proof of that each time I write a paper and send it in, one more done, one step closer to the dream. And I have it in his Word. What else could I possibly need for encouragement or proof?

"God is so good."

"So glad God was with her."

"The Lord was kind and merciful in this."

Heard a lot of these today and I have said things like them today also. Today my seventeen year old daughter ran into the back of a pick up truck. The truck had stopped to turn left and she saw that. She also saw there was nothing approaching from the other direction. The sun was blinding her and she reached up to lower the visor and looked at it instead of keeping her eyes on the road. When she looked back the truck was still sitting there and she had no time to stop. Slamming her brakes she ran into the back and under, was spun around and ended up in a ditch next to the road. Airbag blew, seat belt held fast, and she was jerked and thrown a bit, but other than some bruising and soreness she will be fine in a few days. Scary stuff for her and for us as her parents.

Take it from me, that's a horrendous call to get at 6:55 am. Rich was just coming out of the bath to dress for work. I was trying to rouse myself out of the comfort of my sheets and blanket. Then the phone rang.

I am thankful that it happened just up the road not more than a 1/2 mile from our home. I am thankful she wore her seat belt and the airbag worked properly. I do believe that God said "this far and no further" and her life was spared because of his mercy. But as I uttered those words earlier today to someone, "God is so good." The thought crossed my mind, "What if she had not lived? What if she was hurt in a way that affected her whole life? What if the man in the truck had been killed? What if. . . . Would God still be good?"

I do not mean to sound ungrateful for His protection. I am deeply thankful today. I am not questioning God's goodness either. I have faced enough as a parent to know that no matter what my eyes see, He is still bigger and knows better.

Yet, I have friends and acquaintances who have lost children to car accidents and other things. And the question begs "Where was God's goodness when those children were lost? Was He any less God? Any less in control? Is He still sovereign, omniscient? Is He still good?"

When a parent has taught and set a good example, but the child chooses to do difficult or even dangerous things, and becomes a run away, an addict, or stays in an abusive relationship - couldn't God have stopped them?

When a child is molested and victimized even though the parents tried to protect and keep her safe, is God any less God because of it?

When a couple adopts a baby and wants to love and protect this child as their own, but finds the child cannot accept their love and will not respond in love toward them. Is God still love? Did He know how hard it would be?

When a daughter does nothing wrong except ride with a friend to school and ends up losing her life, is God still God?

I can tell you with assurance, He is still God 100%. He is still sovereign, and omniscient. He is still merciful, kind, and good.

In fact, it is his mercy, his kindness, and his goodness that will sustain one through such horrors. Death, abuse, addiction, rebellion and the like are the results of living in a sin torn world. They are the chart, the portrait set before us to remind us and call us to the Living God. He is more than good or merciful. He is Life. And apart from him we walk in death.

The psalmists cry over and over throughout the book not only in praise and gladness, but in distress and fear. In Psalm 88 the poet writes, "O Lord God of my salvation, I have cried day and night before thee: Let my prayer come before thee: incline thine ear unto my cry: For my soul is full of troubles and my life draweth nigh unto the grave." (KJV) It moves forward in the same manner crying out to God in dispair. These psalms are meant to comfort us as we relate to the distress and the cry of the heart.

In other places Isaiah tells us that the Lord's ways are not our ways and His thoughts are not our thoughts. That even as the sky is higher than us so are the Lord's thoughts and ways higher than ours. Ruth Bell Graham told a beautiful story once about a life picture and how the person could only see the mess of tangles and threads hanging loose throughout the frame. The person was so ashamed that this was the picture her life had created and that the Lord would see such a mess. But when called to stand with Jesus what she saw was the other side of the work and it was a beautiful embroidered picture of Jesus. She had only seen the back side from here. But there next to the Savior she saw what it really looked like to Him.

I don't know how any one carries the deep heart ache of losing a child and not share that burden with Christ. I don't know how others parent without prayful consultations with the Lord. I do know that whether you seek him out or not, He is still sovereign, omniscient, good, kind, merciful, and by the way, gracious. We see the knots and tangles of this life and those things hurt us deeply. But when we trust Him with the pain and take comfort through His peace, His Spirit, only then will we find rest from even the senseless and life altering. That peace lifts us above our situation, above the moment and into His care, and we are able to breathe, to rest, to not need to understand it all but leave it in the Lord's hands without question. And in those moments when nothing else seems right or true or fixable - He is still God, He is still good.

Spring joy

There is something about spring that makes me want to dig in the dirt. I'm not an amazing gardner and my yard is usually the talk of the neighbors, unfortunately not the kind of talk you want to be. But turning over the cool earth on a warm day, dirt under my nails and staining my hands, that somehow always makes me feel better no matter how blue I may feel. I even like the smell of the dirt when it's first turned. It reminds me that with God there is also an opportunity for a new beginning, a fresh start, new mercies. A few minutes of pushing the brown stuff around and feeling the cool dry clumps break between my fingers brings a sense of joy that the new season is really here. I can now plant those seeds and plants with the warning on the package "after danger of all frost" or "after all danger of frost", something like that. The air feels fresh, the sun warm against the skin, and the breeze enough to enjoy the work without much sweat. There is also something about watching the various bulbs and other spring flowers and vegetables lifting their their brand new bodies through the dirt and stretching with all that is in them heavenward. There is a rush of joy, a new song of praise, a child-like exhuberance that fills me when I take up the spade or shovel and head out to the yard for the first time that year. It becomes a dance of worship, not of nature, but of Him. It seems as though the One who offers the day, the dirt, the breeze, the plants to me is breathing a sweet sigh as I kneel down and my heart leaps toward Him in gratitude. I am grateful for this moment, for these plants, this garden, yes. I am even more grateful for the sacrifice He made on my behalf, that these simple pleasures might show me His hand in a glimpse and the smiling faces of the johnny-jump-ups covered with the royal purple remind me that the price was paid by the King. Kneeling in my garden, playing in the dirt I find myself kneeling before the Creator's throne and the glimmer of His glory in the work of His hand set before me often is overwhelming. I have found myself in those moments of worshipful joy with silent tears as His breath becomes real to me and the delight of His presence is touchable. I think with the few minutes I left in the afternoon, I'm going to go out to the throne room to catch a glimpse. Want to join me?

A Curious Plant

I have several spider plants. Most, if not all of them came originally from my mother-in-law's 70th birthday party. Little pots of spider plants and red maples were set around the room as party favors by Dave, her son-in-law. For whatever reasons, the little maples I brought home died. But all of the spiders took off and grew and were transplanted into slightly larger pots and given away, while I kept a few babies to start over with again. One hangs near the front door with a promising batch of little spiders hanging from strong stems in the morning sunshine. Most people coming in don't even notice it, but it salutes those leaving with a wave and a wish for good life. I also have one of those plants (no idea what it's really called) that looks like huge shamrocks. I bought it for St. Patrick's Day and it sits on the window sill turning all the little faces toward the east each morning and filling up the window full of dirt (my seedlings) with blooms of green. Another house plant sits atop the bookshelf that divides the living room space from my little craft area. It's a philademdrum. I call him Dr. Phil because he's just the right kind of green medicine I need when the day is gray and I'm blue. I take him down and pull and fuss with the leaves, tangling and untangling the strands, and cleaning the dust from him. I always feel better after spending a few minutes with the good doctor. I got him from my mom a few years ago and he's lasted longer than most plants for I'm not really a green thumbed person. I just pretend pretty well. And then there's the curious house plant. She is one long vine and has long thick leaves. Not like the leaves of a succulent, but heavy and sturdy. She stays heavy at one end and grows a long stem that causes her to droop and eventually to break off. The leaves get longer and thicker as she matures and the plant produces a pretty little flower at the end, but the flower is short lived and really not the point. It's the plant itself that is the thing to enjoy. The stem stays the same thickness even as it lengthens and the leaves grow both longer and thicker. Eventually the stem cannot support the leaves any longer. She only breaks off once every year or two, and every time it happens I expect that the plant in the pot is dead (it looks dead). I put the flowering end, the leaves, into a jar with a rooting solution, and let the rest sit in its old pot and rest for a few days. It takes me by surprise every time it happens, but it happens every time. After a few days, usually about a week, I will be watering the plants around the old pot and notice tiny fresh leaves on the old stem. It's an amazing sight to see this old stem producing new life, fresh leaves and the old leaves producing new roots in the other jar. My great-aunt, Aunt Reggie (Regina) gave me the plant a few years before she passed away. She truely had a green thumb and could raise anything. The plant reminds me of her, strong and resourceful. It provides me more than just a memory though. It is a picture of my Savior's hand and the plan that God promised He has for me in the book of Isaiah. I have an annoying habit of taking on more and more responsibility until I cannot carry it anymore and something snaps and I lose it all, or something breaks off, falls off, or dies. Lately I have begun to feel that weight, the long thin stem holding and sustaining the heavy thick maturing leaves. A part time job in my husband's business; writing the blog; working toward my degree; writing two books - one about our adoption journey and one based on a biblical character; a new business adventure for me that will hopefully add to our income as well as provide me with an outlet for my creative bug; traveling twice a month to our son's school in VA; a small church related responsibility; all of the regular chores of life such as laundry, making appts., cleaning, paying bills, getting groceries, the normal things everyone does; and bible study, reading, prep for group, and prayer; and oh, yeah, rest. These are a part of what I have hanging from my life plant presently. Some days it is just too much. Now please don't read me wrong. I am not whining. Just stating the facts. Most of the time, I'm having a blast in the midst of all of this. But it really is over-load and I know it. I have taken on each of these responsibilities with prayer and I've tried to have discernment along the way. The plant is beginning to feel heavy with the leaves of the responsibilities as the stem of life grows longer and each leaf, thicker. I realize though, that at one time I would have been looking for the fruit or the flower, I know that right now it's not about that. The "flowers" these areas produce will not in all likelyhood, not be award-winning, stunning in beauty, or productive in nourishment like the flower of the apple tree or berry plants. No, the flowers may be seen by a few, but the plant and its growth is the point. The producing happens in the letting go, separating, starting over. As the old breaks away and responsibilities are completed they won't die off necessarily. Some of the leaves will fall away, but the majority will take new roots elsewhere. I suppose that at some point I will not work part time at the store any longer, someone else will do my job. My blog will end and you will read someone's else's glimpses and glimmers. My degree will be earned (oh, I so hope!) and I will either find where to use it or move into the master's program (doesn't that, in the light of knowing the Master, sound enticing?). The books will be written by God's grace and I will move on to others or not. The new business will grow and provide what I am hoping for or it won't. Our son will graduate and move on to college and we won't take a drive into the heart of VA twice a month any more. The church responsibilities will be passed on to someone new (someone with more administrative skills than I have I hope for their sake.) Each of these will offer a flower, a moment to enjoy them and what they have produced in my life. Their flower isn't the point though. The other responsiblities are just part of the core of the plant where the stem flows from, the piece that continues on even when the rest dies away. That's where the new leaves begin to sprout, out of that life. But in truth, they spring from the roots in the soil. The reading of the Word, the study and preparations of that study, and the time spent in prayer and at His feet are the roots. Yes, those things are the strength of the core plant and are steady no matter how the leaves weigh the stem down. My son gave me a calendar at Christmas that is titled "For Women Who Do Too Much". Hmm. Wonder how he figured that one out? Yesterday someone sent me a devotional that was dealing with over-commitment. I know I am once again in that place and I have a few clues of what I need to let go of. Nothing is really finished and so I believe I need to finish a few things. Perhaps it's this blog. Perhaps it's a few other things. Whatever happens I know that He will produce new life, new leaves in this old stem. The curious thing is that each time the plant has lost it's leaves it starts with one new set. This time there are two. That's never happened before. I'm wondering if it isn't a bit prophetic, and hoping that it is. How about you? Dropped any leaves lately? Any new growth? Are your roots strong? Oh! The soil where the plant lives, abides and receives all that's necessary to sustain life - it's Him. But you knew that.

its really not about the fruit

Several years ago we lived in a rural area of Cecil County, Md. The area is called Fair Hill and it is truly an appropriate description of the beauty of the place. Especially before the building frenzy began there. The house we bought was my dream home.

It sat on two acres of land, most of which was a sloping front yard. The yard dropped gently to the edge and then quickly fell sharply to the road. Sitting on our front steps we could watch the cows graze just beyond the fence across the winding country road, and beyond the cows the creek gurgled and danced along in a wonderful display most days. Beyond the creek were acres and acres of horse farm and then just a few houses dotted the distance before the trees began to poke up high across the horizon. It was really a relaxing place to live.

In the spring I loved to sit out on the front lawn in the evening and watch as the stars popped out. The darkness of the sky was so much deeper without the lights of town and we never got tired of seeing the brilliance and multitude of stars twinkling above. And across our little valley and up our hill there would float haunting melodies from the ancient church just at the end of the road where the keeper of the historic building would practice his bag pipes from early April into May. He would practice in the afternoons and sometimes in the early evening and I would throw open the windows so I didn't miss a note if I couldn't be outside for the daily concert.

We bought the house in March and began that spring to clean up the overgrown yard. The hill across the front was covered with briers and weeds. The forsythia down the side was a tangle of yellow beauty. The mimosas and cherry blossoms were stunning in bloom. But in the back corner of the yard was a massive tangle of vines. We had found one tree in front of the mess that we were sure was an apple tree. But we had no idea what was under the maze of vines.

We spent most of the spring digging out the briers and tearing down the vines. By summer the front hill, although full of ruts, was beginning to show promise, and the vines were gone. To our surprise we found an orchard under all that mess. I believe there were 7 trees to start with. Seven peach trees sitting in the back corner just waiting to be discovered.

We were very excited at the prospect and set about learning what to do to save them if we could. We pruned them and sprayed them and fertilized them and waited. The first year produced very little fruit and what did develop rotted long before it ripened. Two of the trees died that year and one was not looking very good. But we hoped.

We were also tending the apple tree with care which did the same thing with its fruit. We didn't really care whether we ate the fruit at that point. We were just excited to be growing things and the yard was alive with such a variety of birds. A few species seemed to enjoy the mimosas the most. One day I counted more than 70 gold finches playing in the branches. We hung a hammock between the two and would lay quietly and watch as the hummingbirds would come in flocks. I had never seen a group of hummingbirds like that before and have never seen it since, but they would descend upon the mimosas in a flock and then flit from pink puff to pink puff, dancing and humming their wings all around me. It was amazing. It was perfect.

The fruit trees seemed to attract some birds, but not enough to be a nuisance and we thought that was curious since the yard was chock full of any number of different birds. They seemed to know the trees were sick and other than a nest each year in the apple tree, we had no bird problems.

The following year we hoped we would see better fruit, but it was the same thing. Fruit flowers, turned to small fruit, growing to almost full size and then they would drop off the tree still unripe but rotted. No worms, no mildew, just rotten from the inside out.

Again the third year, the same story, although the fruit seemed to get a little closer to ripe and the trees themselves were looking healthy and full of good leaves. It was a pretty, inviting little orchard. You would never guess that the fruit was no good.

By the fourth year our front yard had been completely filled in with fresh dirt and sod, the corner had a lovely little rock garden, and we felt like we lived in a little slice of heaven. The orchard was looking beautiful and the apple tree was full of lovely little flowers. We harvested good apples that year and enjoyed the fruit of our patience and hard labor. The peaches were not producing anything edible though. They looked just like good healthy peach trees, but they only seemed capable of producing rotted, useless fruit.

When we moved away from there five years after moving in we still had not seen any sign of healthy fruit. But the last season of the growing the peaches stayed on the trees longer, grew in weight, and had begun to look pickable and then they fell. Almost overnight it seemed they rotted. We had hoped this last year would be the year. But we moved. I don't know if they would have grown good fruit that last year for the new owners tore them out and put in a built in swimming pool in that corner of the yard. I knew it was their right to do with their new home, but I actually cried. We had worked so hard on that little corner and were so hopeful that it would bless the new owners with the fruit we had looked forward to all those years. But all our work was worthless.

Or was it? We never got to eat the fruit, but we spent many an hour learning and enjoying the yard in a way that we would never have chosen to do if that little orchard had not existed to begin with. We worked together and had the satisfaction of seeing it go from almost dead to four (in the end we only had four) beautiful little blooming trees.

I'm glad we didn't tear them out and toss them into the fire right away. I think sometimes my own healings have come slowly like those of the peach trees. Year after year the Lord graciously watered me with His word, "I have carved you into the palms of my hands and your walls are continuously before me." "You are the apple of His eye." "He delights over his people (and you are his people.)" Over and over, year after year he watered, he pruned, he poured good fertile things into the soil of my life. Season after season my fruit seemed to fall off too early, rot from the inside, not quite serve the purpose it was supposed to serve. But the Gardener tended my branches and lovingly removed the vines that choked me, covered me with the protection that allowed me to grow stronger and able, and removed the dead leaves, branches, and fruit to keep me growing healthier. And in the process I learned that the fruit when it did come in full and ripe, would bless others, would bless me, would bless Him. He was blessed simply by me though. Just as those trees standing in their little grove became a beautiful sight to me even though they never produce one piece of usable fruit, so it is with God and His people.

You don't have to be anything or anyone to earn your place in his love. He loves you because he is love. His desire is for you to know him and to know him deeply, intimately. Your fruit will become useful, ripe, ready for others, and it will bless him also. But it isn't the fruit He is seeking. It's you. Just you.

Zephaniah 3:17 The Lord thy God in the midst of thee is mighty; he will save, he will rejoice over thee with joy; he will rest in his love, he will joy over thee with singing.

Yup, he prunes and that's not a comfortable or fun process - getting rid of dead or diseased things or things that are growing wrong. Yup, he will spray us with the right mixture of grace to protect us from the things that would chew us and destroy us. Yup, he will pour into the soil of our lives the things that fertilize and feed our roots and spirits. But everything he does, he does with the intention of developing you into a strong and healthy person, connected and dependent on his love and protection. He is mighty to save.

3/5/12  I reread this today and was reminded what a blessing it is just to belong to Him.  Something new soon, but for today I hope you enjoyed last year's march 5 entry.  Blessings, Cheri

Heavy with expectation

I headed out the front door in almost a run. I was, of course, running a few minutes behind. The warmth of the day caught my attention and I couldn't resist taking a deep breath. I paused just a moment before pulling the handle of the car door. Looking skyward I saw them.

Giants hung overhead. They filled the sky and all but obilerated the blue that had just a few moments before so carelessly colored the expanse above me. Now the giants loomed, dark and heavy. They looked like the child whose mouth is too full of water, ready to burst forth the contents any second now.

Despite the gray skies moving quickly into my day and over that joyful blue, I felt light and full of expectation. Not inspite of those clouds. No,no, because of them. It is still February and February in Delaware can mean harsh cold temperatures and piles of white (or very quickly dirty brown) stuff. February often likes to remind us here that spring is still weeks away and she does her best to chill our bones.

A few minutes later sitting in my meeting facing a window I watched as the huge rain drops began to explode on the pavement outside. Then it came like the bursting of something held back for a long time. It poured. Leaving the meeting I passed someone coming in the door as I was going out and she said, "Try to stay dry!" I smiled and responded. I wasn't worried about staying dry though. All I could think about was "it looks like spring out there!" Last weekend we had warm temps that made everyone hungry for what yet is still a dream. Then the snow came with the start of the new work week. Still, here we are back at today, warm and raining (and as I type, blowing hard like March, but blue again.)

This week, like most of my weeks, has been very busy and there was little time to pause and reflect. Something I need time to do in order to write. There was time to reflect on my school paper for it needed to get done (and finally, months into the project, it is mailed and I can move on to the second paper. Only nine to go, lol.) But there was the usual laundry pile. (I used to call it Mt. Never-rest, back when I had four and five kids in the house. Today it's more of a foot hill than a mountain - Praise God!) There is my work schedule for the garage. Cleaning; keeping current with teenagers lives, grades, loves, and projects; checking in with sick friends to see what I can do; praying with one several times; and all the other normal weekly things that have a way of piling up and silently screaming at me if I neglect them too long.

This blog took a backseat for the moment. Today as I thought about my reaction to the giant storm clouds as they rolled into my day I wondered for a split second why. Why was I glad to see them? The reasons were not far behind. The warmth promised rain not snow. The rain promises green grass and budding trees. Those clouds were heavy with promise, heavy with the expectation that spring will come as surely as dawn.

In my own life there are giants hanging over my head and yet I can't help but feel excited at the knowledge that they are there. Not because I like the rain that will surely fall, but from what that will produce in my life. There are things that are time consuming and difficult; there are challenges in our family life; there is uncertainty in important issues and decisions; and there are possible losses to come. Yet, I know that whatever rain falls it's because He reigns. He has a reason and will make sure it produces new green sprouts and buds bursting with life and color in my life. My life is heavy with expectations: expectations of finishing my degree, with completing my book, with opportunity to use my teaching/speaking skills again. Expectations of enjoying better days with my husband. Expectations of the joys that come with grandchildren growing up, a son completing Jr. High, a daughter heading into her senior year. Expectations full and weighty with good things. The air tingles with the sense of the presence of those giants looming large. But I am rejoicing. For I know the promise; I know the One who promises; and I know He is faithful.

Seen any storm clouds lately?

The February Thaw

The February thaw has come! The greens of the daffodils are beginning to sprout in some yards; crocuses are ready to pop; and the tiniest of buds are beginning to form on the trees and bushes. The warmth of the sun, if not the air, is evidence that winter is being pushed aside and spring is becoming impatient to show herself. And we cheer.

Well, I cheer. Are you cheering? The bright sun's warmth pouring through my windows brings a sense of comfort and a stirring in my soul to get moving. I am making spring cleaning lists and lists of projects I want to see completed this summer. I find myself walking outside just to go out for a minute, something I would not do if the temps dropped just a few degrees. Checking for the green flowers poking up is becoming a daily ritual again as I long for some evidence that this is real. But alas, I have lived long enough to know that this is normally just a preview of what lies several weeks into the future. Winter has not played her last note, not yet.

This little pause in winter reminds me of the moments of preview our gracious Lord during this winter here. This world is cold and dark compared to the glory that awaits us in eternity. There are moments when we step closer and "feel" the warmth of Eternity's Son. The mother receiving eye contact from her child who is autistic finds in that moment the ability to see beneath the disability to the boy she knows he really is, the child who will stand with her on the other side of this winter world. The daughter whose mother is lost in the secret places of dementia hears her name called and she listens as the old woman relives a precious moment from the daughter's childhood, and she remembers the mother who loved her and looks to the day when they, together, will stand before Jesus in wholeness of body and mind. The couple who have suffered through years of humiliation of unwanted barrenness peering into the eyes of the tiny child just placed in their arms, find the moment of eternity's breeze blow across their lives as they commit themselves to this child's life. The single person nearing forty years of age with no sense of being called to singleness but never quite making that connection, until now, as she stands at the altar and pledges her life to the man standing with her, peeks also to the coming wedding feast of the Bridegroom who is worthy of our waiting.

But there are smaller moments that breathe with eternity's life and give us a moment of reality. For we know that this world is really just a shadow of what is to come. I am thinking of small moments like the most amazing colors in the sky at the perfect sunset; the glowing blue of the ice in a glacier crevice; the soft, full scent of the first summer rose; the clean waking fullness of a lung filled with crisp autumn air; or the shimmer of the first snow through the delighted eyes of a small child. It's so easy (at least for me) to get caught up in the day to day routines and headaches that I forget that this is just a moment and the real thing is yet to come. Then He offers me a preview of what is to come. He pulls the curtain of eternity aside for just a breath and I remember Isaiah as he sees the train and hears the call; Ezekiel as he struggles to explain what he has seen at all; John writing of the rainbow encircling the throne and the crowns laying at its foot; and my heart leans toward that, longs for the fullness of what lies ahead, and aches with the desire to be there. And then the curtain falls and today becomes my moment and I know, that just like the February thaw will surely give way to the cold days again, yet spring is coming; so also will this winter give way to the new day when I step into eternity and meet my Savior. Are you longing for the end of winter or have you forgotten that it will end, some day, when the Father says "now"?

Pruning

I am the true vine and my Father is the vinedresser. Every branch in Me that does not bear fruit, he takes away; and every branch that bears fruit, He prunes it that it may bear more fruit. (John 15:1-2, NASB)

I have always considered these words in light of big tribulation and trouble in life. After all, Jesus is on his way to the Garden of Gethsemane at this point when He speaks these words. Life is at a point where He needs to say what is really important. Not that those before weren't important; all the red letters are, of course, life words. But those He spoke in the last few hours seem to be heavy with importance. So when I have faced or seen those who are facing life's big, difficult moments (the death of a loved one, the loss of a business or dream, a miscarriage, the discovery of barrenness, a loved one's addiction, or their own, these kinds of big things) and I know that this person knows Jesus, I think of that in the light of God's sovereignty that He is allowing this situation for their or my ultimate good and that He will bring blessing and produce good things in life because of this moment. And that is true. It does apply to those big things, I believe.

However, I am learning that His words are much more applicable than for just those big moments. Pruning is something that takes place in the correct season each year. The gardener or farmer takes hold of the tree or vine and clips it here and there. This is not to make the plant beautiful. (Although in the end - it does make it more beautiful as the fruit is produced.) It is for a specific purpose, to bring a bigger yield in produce. So the plant is pruned in the right season to help it produce what it is intended to produce. It would yield fruit without the pruning, at least for a while, but it would not produce as well, as fully without the cutting away.

In the last year I have started 2 major projects. I began my fourth year in seminary and I began writing a book. I believe both are things the Lord has called me to do. I can see how throughout my life He moved me along the path toward this day. I cannot express how excited I was to begin my fourth year or to find the story I would tell. And so I stepped forward with high expectations and goals of when and how and where.

What I did not expect was the pruning. This is not a major trouble time. It is a time of gaining wisdom and applying what I have already learned along the way. It was supposed to be fun and full of fruit and blessing. It is full of blessing, just not exactly the ones I thought would come. It is full of fruit or will be, but there is pruning required.

Learning the craft of creating a work of fiction has been daunting. I have a good story, but learning how to write the words in a way that conveys the message in a style that is appealing and to do that with skill is much harder than I expected when I started writing it.

The fourth year of school was suppose to be somewhat of a "breeze". Not in the sense of the ease of the work, but in that what is required is to read several books and then write a paper on the subject. Wow! Right up my alley! Or so I thought. I spent the first three months just figuring out what was expected in the outline and ended up cutting more than 14 hours worth of work out of it. Then actually writing the paper, hmmm. I finally completed it and knew it was lacking some important things (like a sense of connection through the whole thing!) But I was just done. (Ever been there, just done?) Please understand, I have been working on this thing since week three of Sept. and the original due date was Oct. 15. I feel pressure to get it completed (from myself, not the school). Also please understand, that I have always had no trouble writing good papers. Finding enough words has never been a problem for me. I usually have the opposite trouble - way too much to say. I wrote more than 40,000 words last year for a paper that was requiring 5,000 and had to cut it down. I think I manage to get it to 8,000. So having difficulty making this paper happen is really frustrating.

However, I realize that in both of these areas there is pruning taking place. As I submit my writing to other writers and friends who have agreed to edit for me, I get critiques and suggestions that have shown me how to improve the story and my writing in general. I have learned that there is much to learn and that He will continue to bring others into my life as I need to know. There is humility in that. I am not a 20 yo in college. I'm almost 51, homeschooled for 13 years, saw 2 of my children graduated under my schooling, and have been writing since I first learned how at age 7. Yet, there is not really pain in the advice. The cutting comes in the amount of rewriting, restructuring, and slowly moving toward the completion of the story that I already know the ending to. I want it to be good; I want it to be excellent in content, research, and style. I am fully convinced that while I would like to shoot it off and send it out, it is not ready and I would not be satisfied, nor the Lord honored if I do not spend the time shaping it and learning how to do this better. So I am leaning in as the Father bends my twig and clips this and that, leaving the correct angle for further growth and stronger, healthier, and abundant fruit.

Learning how to write an adequate or hopefully well written academic paper is also more than I expected. But I am learning. I am waiting it out and writing it over and adding to it where it needs more. In all honesty, I wish I could stamp it and mail it today. I wish I could move on and not look back at this first paper. But there is reason that the Lord pulls this twig and clips and that twig and clips again.

I know there is a specific purpose to what He is doing. I don't know what. I know there is fruit that is waiting to blossom, and ripen. But before it comes, the pruning must come. I need to learn how to do each of these things well. I am so impatient, and that is one of the things He has revealed in this process. Some things came too easily. Learning to slow down and take the time to do it well and right is harder than it should be. And I have had to set other things aside in order to make time to do this. Another piece of the pruning. More than I can list is taking place, some in my heart and mind, some in the natural life. but He is accomplishing His purpose as He pulls and clips. He doesn't just want me to produce fruit; He has MORE fruit for me. Because to abide in Him means abundance, right? How blessed are we to be His! I would say I can't wait to see what He does, yet I can, I will, and it will be in His perfect time.

Are you being pruned? Or is this the season of production or harvest for you? Whether you feel the cold edge of the shears as the cut through or you are enjoying the abundance of a full harvest, know that when the Father tends your branch, it is in love. For He disciplines those He loves. I am thankful for His love, His discipline, His pruning. I hope you can say that with me.

Which way I ought to go from here?

"Cheshire-Puss," she began, rather timidly, as she did not at all know whether it would like the name: however, it only grinned a little wider.

"Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?"

"That depends a good deal on where you want to get to," said the Cat.

"I don't much care where ---," said Alice.

"Then it doesn't matter which way you go," said the Cat.

"---So long as I get somewhere," Alice added as an explanation.

"Oh, you're sure to do that," said the Cat, "if you only walk long enough."

(from the book Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll)


When I began my own journey into the "wonderland" called seminary I thought I had a pretty good idea of where the path was taking me. I thought I knew exactly what I was called by God to do in the end. Funny thing though, as I have walked along this path I have met with ideas and characters I did not expect to find and as I continually looked toward the "goal" I am discovering that it was not what I thought in the first days of this journey.

Recently I have had several people ask me what I am doing when I'm done with school, and I can confidently say without a shade of doubt, I have no clue. Well, maybe a clue or two. But in truth I don't know exactly. I thought for sure I was going to be counseling and working somehow in attachment therapy and adoption issues because I have a deep concern and love for those who deal with the tough stuff that comes with attachment problems or adoption difficulties. Then it was suggested to me by someone I have profound respect for that I write: start a blog, write a book, "I can see you sitting in some little cafe in Italy sipping tea while researching for your latest novel." Oh, I can see that too:0) Not sure if that's really God's plan though. And now, I can honestly say I don't know where this path will lead. And . . .I am not keeping my eye on the goal that I thought I would on the first day of seminary. Because the goal has changed along the way. I still plan on finishing my bachelor's degree if the Lord allows and I still hope to move into the Master's program for my counseling degree before I'm 55, if the Lord tarries. Those are goals. But that's not where my eyes and heart are set.

As those people have asked me where I'm going with this I have had to stop and ponder it more than once. Where am I going? If I'm not going to counsel or write the great novel (which it's not to say that I won't do either or both of them) what's the point of this journey? Am I wasting time, money, energy? Am I too old to have this kind of dream? I mean honestly, before you start telling me how young I am and how much time I probably have, in truth, if I finish the Master's program I could be almost 60 years old. Most people are retiring not long after that, not thinking of beginning a career. But then, like Alice, I don't know where I'm going. But unlike Alice, I don't need the directions of a Cat with a big ornery grin. I know whose path, if not what path I follow.

I am reminded over and over that He opened these doors; He placed an overwhelming desire for this in my heart years ago; He gave the financial support right when I needed it and the discounts needed to meet the money I had; and He knows what the point is. Maybe I won't ever finish that book (which I am writing by the way, just not in Italy); maybe I won't ever hang a shingle and offer counseling from an office (been sort of doing that from my living room for years anyway); but there's no maybe about it, I will be doing what He brings me to do and I will know it when I get there, just a surely as I know His voice.

The goal? Oh, that's easy. He is my prize and as long as He is at the end of this, does it really matter what else I get to do? It's His desire burning in me anyway and He has set it before me. I am trusting Him to keep me on the correct path and get me to the "someplace" that I need to be in the day that I need to be there. For He is never late, and His time is rarely my time, but it is always perfect.

So where are you going?

Take it up and follow

Mark 8: 34-35 Then he called the crowd to him along with his disciples and said: "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me and for the gospel will save it." (NIV)

Today the cross has become a symbol of faith. We wear it in our ears and around our necks. We hang it on our walls and it is embossed on our Bibles. For those who know and love Christ it has become a symbol of sacrificial love. It reminds us that it cost him everything.

To those Hebrew people hearing those words the first time Jesus spoke them though, those words must have been more than a little unsettling. The cross to them did not mean faith or love or anything like those ideals. The cross meant torture. The cross meant humiliation, and that in a very public manner. It was a horrifying death saved for the worst kind of criminals.

Jesus did not lighten his words in any way. No, he made it clear in the words that followed that he meant death. He wasn't just talking about denying myself sugar and meat for a few weeks. He was talking about putting to death my will, my desires in exchange for his. In our culture and our day this is still a radical idea. My generation grew up with the "If it feels good do it" and "Lookin' out for #1" mentality. Putting myself first is the norm, not dying to ones desires or will.

But there is reward in following his way, his will over our own. There is a promise. Not of feeling good, or of becoming rich, or gaining anything in this life. The reward is that he will not be ashamed of when he comes. That's not to say that other blessing won't also come. But in that last moment when the trumpet sounds and he appears, for those who "take up your cross" he will not be ashamed of you.

That leaves to reason, that he will be ashamed of those who do not listen to his call. I can't begin to imagine the depth of shame and disappointment for that one who knows Jesus, the One who gave all, even his life, who loved so completely, is now ashamed - of this one. I want to be sure I live in such a way that there is NO doubt about whether or not he will be pleased when I stand before him.

Prince of Peace - Jehovah Shalom

In this life peace can be an elusive thing. To some it would be no conflicts of aggression in the world; to others it means not having any problems such as money or family trouble; to some it would be finding the perfect high to relieve the deep sorrow of their soul. But these things are all circumstantial and they flow like a tide in and out of our lives.

There are symbols that the world recognizes as meaning peace. There is the hand gesture with middle and fore finger extended in a "V" that became a popular sign to flash in a hello or goodbye in the 1960's among the college crowd. There is the circle divided by thirds and the bottom third divided in half again that is often seen on shirts and notebooks and jewelry. For the Christian, we see a particular instrument of death and torture and remember an act of love on a hill outside of Jerusalem a few years after AD 30 and know it represents true peace. Symbols serve to remind us or to inform us, but they do not hold the truth of the ideal unless the one viewing it understands that ideal also.

Real peace comes in the form of deep abiding knowledge that God is bigger than our circumstances and that He cares about our lives personally and individually; so that what is bothering us, matters to Him. In that knowledge we can choose to trust Him to do what is best and to use our situations to bring about good, even when our eyes see nothing good.

There are two names in scripture that offer us a better understanding of our God as the God of peace: Jehovah-Shalom and Prince of Peace. These two are a name and title. Jehovah-Shalom is one of a list of names connected to the personal name Jehovah. The second part offers us a picture or information about His character. Jehovah-Shalom means "the Lord our Peace" (Judges 6:24). He is literally peace. Prince of Peace is part of a list of titles given in the book of Isaiah in a prophecy concerning the Messiah. (Is. 9:6).

Jehovah-Shalom is revealed to us in a book that shows the continual decline and rebellion of the nation of Israel. They would rebel; God would call to them. They would continue to rebel; He would send oppressors. They would repent and turn to Him. Against the backdrop of this constant turmoil and hearts poisoned by rebellion God reveals his nature and the answer to our turmoil. He is our peace, literally. Whether the rebellion is our hearts that cause us trouble or that of someone we love, even if it is not necessarily out right rebellion, but more of a set of bad choices made in moments of ambiguity and misinformation, the tremor of fear in the hearts of those who care, is a real force. Perhaps it is a circumstance that just is, not born of rebellion at all. Perhaps it is a time of testing or uncertainty. The need for an assurance of the soul and spirit that Someone knows and is in control of what we cannot control is a very real need.

As a parent, I know these moments come too often throughout the teen years and early adult years. Those moments come in like a tidal wave and consume us, flipping our very existence in tumbles, flopping us one minute in our guts and then smashing us hard against the bottom of the situation. All the while we are just trying desperately to catch a breath and get our bearings. I can think of nothing more frightening than those moments as a parent watching as your child reaches into the world beyond you and you know that what they reach for will burn them and scar them and you frantically stretch to pull them away, keep them safe, but they are out of your grasp and you can do nothing but pray.

Our family faced a need for His peace this week when our four month old grandson reached out and caught hold of a bowl of boiling water pulling it over and scorching his little arm, chest, and thigh. He was taken to the ER and trasferred to a burn center where the doctors and nurses used their skill and knowledge to not only treat him, but the parents as well, as they comforted and set them at ease as much as is humanly possible in such a situation. My daughter told me that during that time she kept having the words of a worship song run through her head and she found herself pouring herself into worship before God and in that worship she found His peace, the peace that passes all understanding (Phil. 4:7). That is our Prince of Peace. We worship and give him what is His due and we receive from it. No one finds peace in the burn center where their child is being treated. But in that place where she met Him there was peace that carried her forward and allowed her to trust her God more deeply.

Isn't it so good of our God to give us the vehicle of prayer and worship to come to Him when we are not able to do something? When we are not able, He is. When we cannot make it better, He can. When we cannot reach, He can. When our hearts quake inside us with fear, He doesn't. He knows already. He is there already. He allows us to participate in His work through prayer and to offer Him worship (which we need as much as prayer). He could do it without us. He is omnipotent, able in all, fully and completely competent to complete the task without any help. But for our sakes, He allows us a place in His plan. It's part of His plan. Imagine that. He did.

More than having something to do, He also gives us something to cling to, for He is the very peace we crave, we need, we long for. Please don't misunderstand what I am saying. It is not an easy thing to trust God when the power of that tidal wave is flipping your thoughts, feelings, fears, and sapping the strength through the struggle to survive. It is not easy, but it is possible. Moment by moment. With each new toss or flip, making the choice to trust Him over the Fear that screams at you that this is destruction. Nope, what the devil means for harm, God, our Big and Mighty, All Consuming, All Powerful God, that God, He means it for good. Guess who wins? Jehovah-Shalom is present and available in the person of Jesus Christ the Prince of Peace.

Why Prince? Because a prince is a ruler and His position gives Him the authority to rule over our circumstances and our fear. That is His designated responsibility (one of them). Not only is it who He is by nature and character (Jehovah-Shalom), it is part of His job description (Prince of Peace). It's on His list of chiores, "bring peace to those who fear - check." It is good for me to remember as an American who is firmly grounded in my freedoms, that there is a system of dependence in the Kingdom of Heaven. I need to depend on my Prince to be able to stand in faith. My faith will wobble and stumble unless I keep my eyes on Him and choose to trust Him. As I trip about or as those waves crash against me, I am reminded that my Prince of Peace is the one who walked on the waves and slept through the storm until His frightened fishermen followers (say that ten times fast) woke Him. Then He stood in the gale and spoke the words that hushed creations's groan, "Peace," and all at once the waves lay down and the wind stopped its shout and those men looked at each other with wide eyes and said, "Who is this that commands the waves?" Messiah, Prince of Preace, Jehovah-Shalom.

So the next time that tidal wave is picking you up and sweeping you, tumbling you, taking your breath away, call out to the One who steps into the tidal wave like it's a mud puddle and calms the storm of our life. Not necessarily taking away the sound effects or the brilliant screen play that's unfolding before you, but allowing you to breathe, to stand, and to see our God more clearly, more intimately. Trust Him. Fear controls and sets you in chains; peace releases you from it.

Today I bid you Shalom, His shalom.

I'm a lousy friend.

Not always, but consider . . .

Have you ever been wounded by a friend? I mean really hurt by someone you thought you could trust with your deepest and most intimate thoughts? Probably if you're older than 4 the answer is yes. The pain from that kind of hurt can change more than just the friendship; it can change you. It can change the other person. Now, have you ever been the person who wounded?



I always considered myself a good friend. I am merciful sometimes to a fault and I have a tendency to avoid conflict even when I should not. So I always thought of myself as a peacemaker, confidant, encourager, the kind of friend everyone wants to have at least one of.



Imagine my dismay when I discovered a few years ago that I am not the perfect friend. Sure I had failed as a daughter; I had failed as sister a few times; I certainly was not the perfect wife or mother. But the friend thing I thought I had tied-up pretty tight. Finding a smeared image of that "perfect friend" really shook me up.



A few years ago a situation arose between a sister-in-the-Lord and myself. It was really not a huge deal, and so I just let it go. But it bugged me and I squashed again, and again, and again, and finally I had to admit it was really a problem. Only by this time I had managed to drudge up every possible offense in that same area of hurt that I could think of or dream up. The anger burned deeply in my heart at the thought of this person and I could not be near her. I knew this was wrong. I knew I needed to forgive her according to many, many scriptures, not the least one being Matthew 6:15 "for if you do not forgive others their trespasses . . . neither will your Father forgive you your tresspasses." (Amplified Version) You mean like holding a grudge? Conjuring up more offense than existed? Or the big one that was just about to happen?



So I took my offense and proceeded to write it on paper to send her (oh, yes I did) so that we could "work it out". Now I don't know if you've noticed, but I can put words on "paper" and sometimes those words hold a bit of power in them. All of our words have power, after all we are made in the image of God. I can sometimes use that power for evil without meaning to do so. My words had the same effect as if I had sucker punched her. She had no idea I was even mad, wounded, hurt or whatever I was by that time. Out of the blue I hit her hard without a warning. My intention really was to clear the air, but oh it did not clear the air.



Fast forward a few years and another friend has said some things that wounded. And again I think it's no biggie and push it aside. (I am learning, just v e r y s l o w l y.) It builds inside and then one day she confronts me. Yep, she confronts me. I see now looking back that I was doing things to keep a little more distance because I didn't want to deal with the thing there between us. She didn't know there was a thing, because I had never mentioned it when it was just a little thing. Now she was wounded and deeply by my actions.



Today, the first friend has reached out to me a few times and slowly we are finding ways to walk in forgiveness, to live out the admonishment of the Lord. I know her original offense toward me was not intentional and certainly not with malice. I hope she honestly knows that I am deeply repentant for my caustic words so carelessly thrown at her.



The other situation is much fresher and there are probably some undone things there. But already I know God's kindness and mercy are working to bring peace in the situation. I don't know that this relationship will ever be fully restored. But I will always treasure the place this friend holds in my heart and I know she feels similarly.

I wish I could tie this up in nice tidely little package with a happy ending. But this really happened in both instances and the resolutions are still being played out. But there is comfort and there hope for each of us who are imperfect and sometimes careless with our words or actions.

Proverbs 10:12 states: "Hatred stirs up contentions, but love covers all transgressions." (Amplified Version) Wow, all covers everything! What good news for lousy friends like me (and probably like you)! What an awesome way for things to work. Of course there are consequences (like knowing what a terrible person I am without the love of Christ working in me and the loss of the friendship even if for just a season) and there are no guarantee that things will be the same (but whose to say they can't be better after all is said and done?) As we walk in the love of God (Christ) toward one another our failures fade away until they are unseen and not remembered (the same way). Which reminds me of one of my favorite verses in scripture: Jesus tells us in John 13:34 and 35 that he gives us a new command and that is to love one another. More than just the command though he explains that if we (when we) love one another all men will know that we are his disciples. All will know. We are His.

I will probably never be the perfect friend or the perfect anything else. But I will love my friends, and all the more those of the Body of Christ. For if nothing else can be said of my life, I want it said that I was His.

Matthew 6:12: "forgive us our debts as we also have forgiven . . ." (Amplified)

glimpses and glimmers

Someone asked me recently what my title to the blog meant. I thought about it after giving the short answer, "Well it's glimpses of God's love and Glimmers of his glory as he reveals them to me." That is true enough and the answer was certainly sufficient for that moment. There is more to the name than just that though.

I love corporate worship. You may know what I mean. I don't care if we are singing a hymn, a chorus, a child's song, or everybody singing "in the Spirit" as one; however we do it as long as we are together as we enter the throne room I am filled up and happy. There is a sweet and intimate sense to personal worship that is reflected in a healthy marriage, the oneness of being with God is such a powerful while tender and perfect experience. Yet, the experience of lifting my voice or standing in silence before him as "the bride of Christ" with other believers is also a powerful thing and not only solidifies my faith, my understanding of who I am and to whom I belong; but it also connects me in a deep and spiritual way to those who stand with me in that moment.

It was during a corporate worship several years ago in a little wood building in Elkton where I felt the stirring the Holy Spirit and in that moment I felt as if a curtain was pulled aside and a glimpse was captured like a photograph in my heart. The overwhelming sense of his love and the magnitude of the glory made me cry. I stood there and just burst into tears. I felt giddy and lightheaded and I think I crumpled as I went to my knees. There was no standing in this perfect and complete moment. I felt wrapped in his presence.

A few years later there was a similar experience when someone prayed for me. He touched my head as he began to pray and he said "hello mother" and the call in my life rose inside me like the full thunderhead the farmer hopes to see when he longs for rain. That glimpse pulled me forward into things I had only begun to understand and gave me the courage to believe for them and wait for Him. As the man prayed I fell to the floor, for there was no standing as the Holy Spirit encircled me like a new layer of skin. You can call it whatever you want. All I know is He was there with me and I came away from that moment with a hunger for more of Him, less of me, a better glimpse of who I am, and certainly a glimmer of His glory radiating in my heart.

I have found that I truly only need the glimpse of his love, the glimmer of his glory. In fact I think that in this present state perhaps I can only handle that much. For his presence is overwhelming, his love is beyond anything we know, and his glory is indescribable. The closer I come the more I see how far off I truly stand.

The Father's gracious love and continuing leading has brought more and more and each glimpse gives me a fresh moment, a new start. His mercies are new every morning, and his love endures forever. So my prayer for this coming year as I write these weekly thoughts is that you also will find glimpses of His love and glimmers of His glory pouring through your life and that you will be blessed. Happy New Year friends.