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)
Monday, November 22, 2010
Monday, November 15, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, November 8, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, November 1, 2010
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.
"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.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, October 18, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, October 11, 2010
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.
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.
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