for me, too

I sit, counting gifts, in the quiet.  Steaming cup of morning coffee by my side, the dawn's sunbeams beginning to peek in the back windows.

#96.  warm coffee on a brisk morning

#97. pretty pink pen

#98. dog sleeping peacefully

#99. dear friends

...and I stop.  I'm at 100 already?  I mean, I'll admit, I did start this thing months ago, but wasn't really being faithful until the beginning of this year...

What should I write for my 100th gift?  Shouldn't it be something special, something wonderfully profound?

I ponder, and remember something.

...and I write:

#100. grace

Okay, okay, I admit--it's beautifully Christianese isn't it?  :-)

Let me explain.

I find that I have a hard time remembering that grace applies to me too.  I mean, I talk about it all the time.  I preach it from the rooftops, I proclaim its promises upon the weary and broken...but I seem to miss it for myself.  

I realized this when chatting online with a friend the other night.  I was telling her about a situation in which I was fearful of the outcome because of some past mistakes that I had made.  I could almost feel her warm smile and arm around me when she said, "Ok. Let's move past that. We all make mistakes and God is in the business of redemption."

It sounds like the same old, same old.  But to me at that moment, it was like a flashbulb moment.

The words of a sermon by Paul Washer that I had been listening to not too long ago came to mind:

"How dare you think that your sin has more power than the blood of Jesus Christ? How dare you think that your puny disobedience is stronger than His obedience? 

You are dressed. You are dressed proper. You could go to a wedding at this very moment in the very court of God because He dressed you. And you are attractive to Him because He made you attractive to Him by His own work and if He hadn’t done it you would have never got there. 

It is all about Him." 

(Click HERE to listen to the full sermon or read the transcript--it's fantastic, don't miss it!)

I believed that His blood was enough for my sin in general, but for some reason, when it came to the everyday stupid mistakes that I made, it felt like I had to manage those on my own.  Pay for the consequences, deal with it.

Wrong.

God cares about everything.  Jesus' blood covers everything.  He is strong enough to overcome all.

He is powerful enough to redeem even me and my hopeless, everyday mistakes, distresses and grievances.  He is strong enough to daily cleanse me, to hourly redeem me, to forgive me and love me, moment by moment.

Do we deal with consequences from our actions and mistakes?  Yes.  

But the glorious promise that we have is that we never have to go at it alone, and that if we surrender ourselves to Him, He can take our weakest points and turn them into opportunities for His glory.

"And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose."  

~Romans 8:28

"...and lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” 

~Matthew 28:20b

#100. remembering that grace is for me, too 

joy dare: a gift old, new, blue

I smiled when I saw this as the random verse of the day on my phone's Bible widget:

a gift old...

Earlier, after eagerly cutting out the fabric for some skirts this afternoon I ran some fabric through one of our nicer sewing machines.  I was horrified when what was supposed to be gentle lines turned out a mangled mess!  So, at my sister's suggestion, I pulled out my old machine.  The basic beginner's machine.  My birthday present from when I turned 11.  At 9 years old, it thrilled me that it worked...beautifully.

 new...

My dear sister Emma purchased a beautiful silver Starbucks mug for my birthday a couple of weeks ago.  To my utter horror the paint began to chip after a few uses!  So we returned it, but unfortunately, they did not have any of the same style--so I picked this one out.

I love the rustic yet elegant style; thank you, Emma darlin'!  :-)

blue...

God's words...His breath, encapsulated into a language that we could understand.

Mine, encased in blue.

How grateful I am for those that gave their lives that we might be able to read God's Word in our own language!  How precious is the blood that is spilt by those whose passion extends beyond the grave.

(My engraving is wearing off--there used to be an "M" there after my first name!)

 (Okay, so I'm a messy underliner ;-) )

joy dare: a gift inside, outside, on a plate

a gift inside...

With some birthday money, I was able to purchase a Chemex coffee maker; turns out it can be awfully photogenic ;-) The taste of the coffee is so smooth, and it's addicting to make!

I love pouring the hot water in and watching it drip down...so romantic!  ;-)

a gift outside...

I took sweet Paul out for a walk this afternoon... His babbling and giggling is so precious.  I especially love to watch what he does with his hands--how he waves and claps, experimenting their inherent powers!

on a plate...

...and I break the romanticism with a picture of pizza--even with a bite taken out of it!  

Little Caesar's Pizza--a piece of my past, comfort food almost at it's best ;-)  When we first moved here, about nine years ago, Little Caesar's was a staple in our house.  We didn't have a whole lot of time to cook what with the busyness of that year with my mom helping her mom diagnosed with lung cancer, driving to chemo, etc.  So, in spite of the fact that it's terrible for you, it'll always hold a special place in our family's heart ;-)

Today was a work day--then it started to rain...fast and easy comfort food was in order!

joy dare: three gifts heard

I print the calender sheets and tape them up on the fridge.  A schedule for the hunt--the list of treasures to be found everyday.  The pieces of joy to be found in everyday life.  These treasures, waiting to be discovered.

I've decided to take the Joy Dare.  

You all know how much I adore Ann Voskamp's work--her book One Thousand Gifts and her Christmas Devotional.  I had seen the calender sheets on her website before, the simple suggestions for gifts--three a day, amounting to over one thousand by the end of the year.  I had even printed one out a few months ago...but sadly, it grew neglected.

I hesitated from ever chronicling my gifts on my blog, for fear of the same thing.  That they would grow neglected.  That I wouldn't be able to keep up.  And everyone would see.

But then I realized that that very thought goes against grace--the very reason that we turn around to chronicle and thank Him for His gifts in the first place.  Undeserved grace.

So maybe I miss a day.  Or two.  Or 200.

Maybe I've only counted a few gifts since I first started...a year ago.  But that's okay.  Because of grace.

Grace extends the hand, and offers me a second chance.  So here I go.  :-)

Today's suggestion was "3 Gifts Heard".

Three gifts that bring music to my ears.

#1.

Oh, the joyful sound of carefree life!  Full of vigor, eager to laugh, thirsty to learn.

(Oh, yeah.  And because I'm like that, I feel the need to explain the necklace on my little brother, lol.  It's actually made of amber--like a sap, when warm against the skin letting off oils that help ease the pain of teething.  Purely function, not style, haha!)

#2.

#3.

I hear him in the hall...he grunts as he proudly lifts the rocking horse...all by himself.  It's in the way of his Duplos.  He takes care of it.  Like a man.  

What were your "Three Gifts Heard" today?

the angel's message

Her hands were sweaty.  She could feel her stomach quivering, her heart racing, as she knelt, the shining being before her. Favor with God?  A baby?  The Son of God?  God, as a baby--in my womb?

The thought thrilled and terrified her all at the same time.  "The Lord is with you."

Then, like a punch in the stomach, her thoughts came back to earth, "How can this be, since I am a virgin?"  Surely the angel must have made a mistake.  She could not have a child.  She was not married!  She sighed.  It had been a beautiful thought, it would have been nice if it were true.

But the angel's face did not cloud in confusion.  He did not turn away from her.  No, instead, his face seemed to beam brighter.  A full smile lit across his face as though he was expecting the question.  "The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; and for that reason the holy Child shall be called the Son of God...For nothing will be impossible with God."

Goosebumps ran up her neck.  The hair on her arms stood straight up.  Her legs felt weak.

The sign!  Therefore the Lord Himself will give you a sign: Behold, a virgin will be with child and bear a son, and she will call His name Immanuel.

God with us.

God with us.

God with us.

The God of Noah, that in His righteous anger, covered the entire earth with water, destroying all life but that in the tiny rescue ship.

The God of Moses, that, struck the Egyptians with plagues, delivered the children of Israel with a mighty hand and outstretched arm.

The God of Elijah, throwing fire down from heaven, consuming the offering before the prophets of Baal.

The God of the mighty warrior David.  

The God that delivered Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego from the flames.

The God that held the lions mouths shut for Daniel.

The God that gave Esther, the beautiful Persian queen, the courage to save her people, and protected her from harm.

That God.  That God of judgment.  That God of power.  Strength.  Majesty.  Mercy.  Kindness.

With us.

In her womb.

She put her hands to her stomach, her mind racing.  Me?  I am the virgin?  Me?  My son, God?  The Messiah?

God is come to save us!

Jesus.  That was the name the angel said to call Him.  Jesus.  Her Son's name.  A smile touched her lips. It was so sweet on her tongue.

A flash filled her sight.  A vision knocked her.  Blood running down.  Cold stone.  Violent quaking.  The smell of fear.  Sweat.  Blood.  The sounds of anger.  Yelling, screaming, "Harlot!  Adulteress!"  And blackness.  Death.  The ache filled her chest and escalated into a raging fire.  Anxiety ravaged her body.

What about Joseph, her betrothed?  When he discovers that she is with child, will he believe her that the Child is God?  That she is with child by the Holy Spirit?  Her throat burned.  Or would he order her to be stoned for adultery?

Immanuel.  God with us.  God with her. She was called Favored One... He would protect her.  He was always faithful.  Just like He was with Noah.  With Moses.  With David.  He was with her.

Her voice quivered, felt small, 

"Behold, the bondslave of the Lord; may it be done to me according to your word.”

The angel was gone.

morning

The suns rays have just begun to peak above the horizon.  Coffee steams in mugs.  Laundry has already begun to spin, some waiting to be folded on the dining room table.  After my shower, my mind has already begun to silently race, planning the list of things to be done for the day.  The house is quiet.  Until a small voice begins to echo down the hallway,

"There is powah, powah!  Wonder, wonder, powah in da bwood..."  to the tune of Power in the Blood.

Leave it to God to remind me to start the morning walking in grace...by the power of His blood--out of the mouth of the two-year-old.

Good morning, Beloved.  

"The Lord’s lovingkindnesses indeed never cease,

For His compassions never fail.

They are new every morning;

Great is Your faithfulness."

~Lamentations 3:22,23

a kiss

4am.  I wake to Tenth Avenue North, rocking next to my bed through my cell phone speaker.  Slide my finger across the screen to silence the music, and stumble...er, roll, rather, out of the bottom bed of the triple bunk.  Stumble to the kitchen; mindlessly start the coffee, and as that precious liquid starts to brew I step out into the garage and rev the engine of the grainmill.  Thus starts a typical Thursday, the day of the Farmer's Market.

So why am I writing about it?  If it has been such a typical morning, why would I bother to draw any attention to it?

I was adding flour to a batch of cinnamon swirl; the bosch mixer going round and round...that's when I felt it.  A kiss.  It came in the form of a subtle, gentle, and cool breeze.  It brushed my cheeks, caressed my forehead, kissed my lips.  I looked up.  Where did that come from?  From inside the house?!?  Then I saw.  My dad had just opened the front door. 

Here I am now.  Still in my pajamas, I confess, but I didn't want to lose my excitement befrore writing it out.  It's been in the upper 80s and 90s here; humid, stifling...  But as I write this out, I am sitting in the lazy boy next to the open sliding glass door.  I feet the warmth of the sun's beams on my feet, the cool breeze on my face.  Since we moved down south when I was about eleven, I miss more of the cool weather--my memories of fall are my fondest.  Raking Leaves, jumping into piles.  Collecting leaves, marveling at the color.

This morning, when that drift kissed my face, it all came back.

That first breeze of fall brought a gentle whisper,

Do you love it, Beloved?

a silver thread in the tapestry

I was about 13 years old when I gave myself completely over to Jesus; giving Him my life, giving Him my heart, my dreams, my everything.  What I hadn't fully comprehended was that those things weren't really ever mine in the first place...wait, I'm getting ahead of myself.

Everybody gets to a crossroads in life.  Whatever decisions this crossroads may present, it can be difficult to determine the Lord's will--especially if it seems to be a "neutral" situation in which either decision would be morally acceptable.  I've wrestled with more than one of these.  I've been confused, crying out to God, weighing out the pros and cons of both paths, trying to figure out which road would be the most profitable to trod.

A friend was recently relating to me about one such crossroads that he had come upon; he shared with me a thought that the Lord gave him that helped him to choose which road to take, that instead of asking, "What would be the best for me to glorify God?" taking into account his family, his talents, gifts, abilities, potential-- that he would ask, "What would be best for God?"

That was about a week ago. A couple days ago, my dad took me out for breakfast.  I had forgotten to even tell him about this, but it was brought to my remembrance when we were talking about the crossroads that I was looking down and he looked across the table from me, straight in the eyes, and said, "You need to ask yourself, 'What's best for God?'"

My perspective changed.

In my mind I saw my life--a tiny dot on the map as my perspective zoomed out until I saw the earth in it's entirety, suspended in seemingly eternal blackness and emptiness, yet bathed in a beam of golden radiance.  Rather than simply analyzing the few years that would span my life, I saw a glimpse of the Story of God that He's been writing before time began.

Instead of looking at how I can glorify God best in my life, ask how can God use this life that He has made to best glorify Himself?

In my past few years of "surrender" and "sacrifice", my perspective was off.

I thought that I was giving God my life, I thought I was surrendering my dreams to Him, my gifts--I failed to recognize that everything that I have was a gift from Him in the first place. Or if I did, I did not use it as the lens with which I viewed my future.  I thought it was my sacrifice, my act of worship.  I failed to realize, that it's my reasonable service of worship.

Oh, the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are His judgments and unfathomable His ways! For who has known the mind of the Lord, or who became His counselor? Or who has first given to Him that it might be paid back to him again? For from Him and through Him and to Him are all things. To Him be the glory forever. Amen.

Therefore I urge you, brethren, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies a living and holy sacrifice, acceptable to God, which is your spiritual service of worship. And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may prove what the will of God is, that which is good and acceptable and perfect.

~Romans 11:33-36, 12:1-2

Do you see it?  Everything comes from God, every gift, every talent, every opportunity, every ounce of potential that you have in your being, every breath that passes through your lungs, every drop of blood coursing through your veins, it is a result of God's unfathomable mercy upon you--His gifts to you, all things come from Him.  When surrendering this next breath, this next step of life, I'm just giving it back to Him.  Instead of asking how I could be used best for His kingdom, as though I have something to give Him, instead I fall down at His throne of grace, hands high, quaking in awe that He might use me to bring about His glory on the earth, by any means that He decides.

My life is but a snapshot, a glimpse, a vapor that makes up a tiny fragment of God's greater masterpiece; His story.  It is a gift that He has so graciously given me the power to do with as I please.  But if I'm willing to give it back to Him, and obey, He has the perfect place for it.

It's the golden brushstroke to portray the radiance of the sun, or maybe it's the grey one that He wants to use in the shading.  It's the perfect rhyming word in His song, the next step in His dance, the silver thread in His royal tapestry--I am a piece of His artistry!  My part is small, my part could seem insignificant; but my part and your part, and every one else that is willing to surrender to Him--all of us together, supporting each other's pieces, following the direction of the Divine Artist, will make up an eternal and heavenly masterpiece, to which nothing could ever compare.

Can God do without me?  Yes.  He doesn't need me.  He could easily find someone else.  I'm nothing special.  But He wants me.  He wants me.  He wants me to take part in His heavenly painting, His dance, His tapestry--His story.

It's just reasonable!  It just makes sense!  It's not some great act, not some magnificent feat that I would "allow" God to use me--it's simply reasonable, expected!  He desires me and He wants me to desire Him. He gave me this gift that I might respond by placing it back in His hands.  Because I love Him.

I have nothing to give Him but that which He has given to me.  

Jesus, all I have to give You is what You have already given me. 

Here am I; I'm Yours.  

Of Zip (or is it "M"?) and some other new family friends

My dear readers,

My sincerest apologies for my tardiness in posting on this little blog... Life has been busy (I'll bet you all are sick of hearing that from me!) but it's true, nevertheless.

I just wanted to drop a little post on here to let you all know that I have not given up on this little blog, nor do I plan on abandoning you, my dear readers!

I also wanted to introduce you to some new family friends :-)

Well, let's just say that we may have gotten a little zealous with our the plants in our butterfly garden...

That's right! We've got caterpillars!  And a TON of them at that.

They turn into black swallowtail butterflies, I've seen a few flitting about the plants out front-- they are so beautiful!  I wish I had a photo of one, hopefully I'll be able get one soon though....

 Abigail and Violet enjoyed catching a few to observe them... It's amazing to watch how much they eat!  Abigail has three named M, Stripey, and Pinky.

Violet has one, she originally named Zip, then a few minutes ago she changed his name to M... I vote for Zip, but I don't think it's up for discussion at this point ;-)

I love watching these little caterpillars, how amazing creation is!  Makes me feel as childlike as my little brothers and sisters as we all gather around the jars, watch the little caterpillars eat, spin their cocoons, sleep, wait and wake transformed... What a beautiful story God has written into the life of a seemingly small insignificant insect-- how much more does He desire to write beauty into the stories of His children?  Are we willing to rest in His cocoon and wait?

Just a thought...

Finding Peace

I'm scared.  Conflicted.  Stressed.  (There, the buzzword of society.)  Stressed.

The question is, why?

  I'm afraid that I don't have enough time for everything that I'm trying to get done.  I'm scared that I can't balance all of the plates that I have spinning.  I'm conflicted as to which plates I should maybe take down.  I'm stressed.  Tired.  Worn.  I'm ready to let it all fall.

God, what do you want from me?  I'm scared of making the wrong decisions.  I'm afraid to disappoint Him.  I'm scared of letting my parents down.  I'm afraid of living life, and then dying to find out that I was living it all wrong.   I'm afraid of wasting time.  I'm scared that if I stop spinning any one of these plates, that my world will come crashing down with all of them.

Where is my trust?  Is my heart so shallow?

Do I not believe?

As I ponder back on my life, what do I see?  All around me, testimonies of His faithfulness, His goodness, and His graciousness-- His strong and ever abiding Hand in my life.  

In the eyes of new life-- my beautiful new baby brother.

The ring on my finger, my daddy has my heart.

The brown sugar under my fingernails, remnants of last week's Farmer's Market baking.

The dented tuba leaning against the couch, the music that permeates my blood.

The golden gilded books lining the shelf.  

I can read, my heart ever yearning for the next story.

A blue leather Bible.

Notes and underlines from my momma in the margins.

The giggle of the two-year-old, hungry and passionate for life. Yet, so dependent.  

The golden grain in the 5-gallon bucket.

The ripening bananas on the buffet.

The upright grand piano, faithful and majestic at the center of our home.

The soft carpets that adorn the living room.

The creamy oaken dining room table that seats twelve.

They don't sounds like things of major grandeur.  Most of them even just sound like ordinary household items.  How can one find the cure to anxiety and stress within the recesses of such commonality and monotony?

It's being able to see, each of these things hold a story of God's faithfulness to me. As I gaze upon my surroundings, I'm reminded of His ever present Hand-- that He will never leave me or forsake me.  

When I have fallen, He reminds me that He is always ready to offer me grace-- as I gaze in the eyes of  my baby brother-- He whispers, "New life.  Mercies every morning."

When I grow discouraged, wondering and worrying about my time, I catch a glimpse of the ever-embarrassing brown sugar resting under my fingernails.  "I provided a way for you to work with your hands.  Glorify Me in it."

This anxiety spawns from one source-- a lack of belief in the Lord and His promises.  Do I not believe that God has the power to protect me from myself?  Do I not believe that He is enough to sustain my daily want, my daily needs?  Do I not believe that He will give me the strength to either continue spinning those plates day by day, or to give me the courage to lay some of them down-- no matter how precious or important they may seem to me?

Yes, Lord.  I will trust You.  You have been ever faithful to me, why should I doubt You?

I'm ready to let go, this death-grip I have maintained since childhood.  A restless fear, an ever present and all consuming desire to be in control.  I'm going to release my hold, and watch as I allow God to take control my fears, anxieties and stress resting in His hands.  He has asked us to let Him carry the burden.  

"Do not let your heart be troubled; believe in God, believe also in Me."

~John 14:1

If I believe, I trust.  

If I trust, I have to let go.

Before I can take His hand and allow Him to lead me, I must first surrender my control.
My fingers must loose themselves from their wild clutch on my desires
before they can tenderly entwine in those of my Jesus. 

It's not easy.  I don't like it.

But as I look for His ever-present mercies, as I search out His abundant blessings, I seek the outflow of His love even in the most monotonous pieces of life, I'm reminded,

"Peace I leave with you; My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you.  Do not let your heart be troubled, nor let it be fearful."

~John 14:26

"Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.  And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus."

~Philippians 4:6-7

The answer is thanksgiving. 
Remembering the things of God-- His faithfulness in the past gives me peace for the future.   

"Strength and dignity are her clothing,

and she smiles at the future."

~Proverbs 31:25

My dear reader, are you struggling to find peace?  I encourage you-- count your blessings.  Literally.  Gaze upon the gifts which the Lord has bestowed upon your life and revel in the provision and love of your Maker.  Even in the most simple and monotonous things of life.  Like

a warm cup of coffee on a brisk morning.

The coolness of a clean kitchen counter freshly cleaned.

The crisp juiciness of a rosy apple.

The joyous chorus of birds.

The rising of the sun. To remind us that weeping my last for the night, but joy comes in the morning.

...for when I am weak {A Divine Mistake}

It had been a long day.  I was exhausted-- emotionally, physically; I just wanted to go home and go to bed.  I was done, done, DONE!  Then, well, that happened.

It was a Saturday.  My parents and Melody (14) had gone to the Saturday Farmer's Market to sell our bread.  The rest of us were left with our standard Saturday cleaning to-do list as well as shopping and errands list.  I got my cleaning jobs done as soon as I woke up, as everyone else was rousing so that I could get the errands done early.

I think I brought it upon myself, I could have left everybody at home with Hannah (16) to babysit... I'm not sure what induced me to bring everybody (7 siblings) with me in our 15-passenger van, but well, I did.   Off we went, a couple garage sales, Goodwill, library, thrift store, Chick-fil-a, Walmart...  I still had to go to Aldi, but by then, I was shot; done.  At Goodwill, the parking lot was so narrow that upon driving in and not finding any spots, I had to do a 50+ point turn to get out... Walmart is miserably busy on Saturdays... it was one of those days... Plus taking a bunch of little kids with you on errands can be exhausting, it's just the way it goes-- and for some odd reason they were in especially rare form that day.  So, even though Aldi was on the way home, I bypassed it, dropped the kids off at home with Hannah, turned around, and headed to Aldi.  By now, I was just itching to go back home, but I still had those last couple of items to get, and I was determined to get everything done.

I was still driving our 15-passenger van because it was the only available vehicle at the time anyway.

With John-David (12) in the passenger seat, I looked for a close spot to the entrance to Aldi-- normally, when driving an extra large vehicle, you should probably choose a somewhat obscure spot that's easy to get out of.  I knew this, but I ignored it because I was so tired, I just wanted to get in, out, and done.  Well, I learned the hard way to not ignore that in the future.  As I pulled into the spot I heard a slight, high screech.  John-David's eyes seemed to swell to three times their regular size as he looked at me.  I had scratched the car next to me with the bumper-- I was too close.

I finished pulling in and put the car in park.  I just covered my face with my hands.  AAAAAAAAH!  Can this day just be over already?  John-David went to look at it, "Oh, it's fine, it looks like some paint from our bumper came off on it.  Here, I'll go clean it off."  I breathed a sigh of relief and went to go help him.  But it didn't clean off-- it stayed there, because it wasn't paint-- it was actually the lack of paint on the bumper, a chip, accompanied by two white scratches.  They weren't major, in fact, they were almost unnoticeable, I could have just walked away, and nobody would have been the wiser.  But I couldn't do that.  I knew that I had damaged this person's car, and I had to pay for it.

I got back in the van and called Daddy.  He instructed me on the info that I needed to give the owner of the car once he/she got there, until then I would wait for them to come out.  When she got there, she was very gracious with me, took my info, and we parted ways.

I proceeded to lock up the van, not realizing that the keys were still in the ignition until I had gotten back with all of the groceries.  Blessedly, John-David still had a clear head on his shoulders (I just wanted to run home on my own two feet at that point) and remembered a "secret" way to get in.

Yes, I finally went home, and yes, the day actually ended.

The next day, I got a phone call from the car owner, "I decided that it's not that bad-- something I can live with-- I don't want your parents' insurance going up by making a claim... so don't worry about it."  Wow, I felt so blessed!  Daddy wanted to do something for the woman, because she had been so gracious, so I put him on the phone to talk to her.

Do you believe that God's power is made perfect in weakness?  Do you really?  I mean, I know that I had read it in my Bible a thousand times, my head knew it.  Now my heart knows it.  I mean, really knows it.  Really, really.

During the phone conversation between the car owner and my dad, the only thing that she requested was prayer.  For her adult daughter. Her spiritual state.  God had ordained everything.  My dad was in the middle of reading a book that pertained to the very specific topic that the car owner had expressed.  He offered to give it to her, and prayed with her right there on the spot.

A couple days later, we met the car owner at Starbucks, my dad had picked up a secondary copy of the book to give to the woman for her daughter.  "It's strange," she shrugged, "I was at the Christian bookstore the other day, I've been looking for something to read recently...  I couldn't find anything."

 Who knows how that woman and her daughter will be blessed and grown in their love for God through that seed of a book.

If I hadn't decided to bring everyone with me, if I hadn't had to make that 50+ point turn in the Goodwill parking lot, if Walmart hadn't been miserable, (etc, etc, etc) I wouldn't have been as tired and weak as to ignore the logical warnings in my head as to park in a reasonable spot.  I wouldn't have scratched the car, I wouldn't have spoken with the car owner, she never would have gotten that book, or the prayer offered on hers and her daughter's behalf.

 "And He has said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.' "

Is it hard for me to admit that I scratched somebody's car publicly?  Um, <bites lip> yeah.

BUT,  

"Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me. Therefore I am well content with weaknesses, with insults, with distresses, with persecutions, with difficulties, for Christ's sake; for when I am weak, then I am strong."

~2 Corinthians 12:9-10

I have written on this topic before, but for some reason, I always tend to forget.  I fail to recognize that when things go wrong, when I feel weak, when I'm exhausted, when I feel like I can't go on, that's right when God rolls up His sleeves.  It's when I feel useless that God sees me as most useful.  When I am humble, not relying upon my own strength, it paves the way for God's glory to radiate the brightest through me.

Lord Jesus, forgive me for forgetting.  How Your plans never cease to amaze me.  That you could use a broken, frail vessel like me...

The Joyful Family: A Lesson in Contentment {part one}

It had been a long morning; I had been up since 3:30am baking bread for the farmer's market that was to take place later that day.  Exhausted and needing a break from swirling cinnamon into whole wheat,  I sunk into the lazyboy sitting next to the family computer desk and grabbed the wireless mouse.  My sister's blogger account was up, so I proceeded to browse the latest posts.  I clicked on one, and there I read a story that nearly made me cry...

It was a story that had been shared by a friend of mine, Michael Schroeder, on his blog.  I was so blessed by this story, so encouraged and challenged, that I wanted to share it with you all.

There were several children in the family, but the father had died, and they lost their main source of income.  Yet, they were always joyful.  They lived in a small house, and did not have much, but what they did have, they appreciated.  There were only three forks to split amongst seven people, so they made it a game to see who would get a fork each night.  One Sunday at church, the pastor announced that the church would be collecting money for a poor family in the congregation.  The pastor told the congregation to be generous and sacrificial since this family really needed their help.
  When the family left the church, they talked over what they could do to help the family.  They did not have a lot of money, but perhaps if they cut their food bill, and only had potatoes for supper for the next month, and did not use lights at night, or listen to the radio, to save money on electricity, they could donate the saved money to the poor family.  That month was one of the happiest times the family had.  They kept thinking of ways to get more money for the poor family, and imagining how excited the family would be to receive it.  The Sunday the money was to be given to the poor family, this family walked to church, singing and talking excitedly.  It was raining, but they hardly noticed.  Joyfully, they put the money in the offering plate.  They had saved 80 dollars.
            At home, when they were talking, the doorbell rang...

Click here to visit Michael's blog and read the rest!

What did you think?  There are a couple different aspects of this story that teach a couple different lessons-- feel free to comment, I would love to hear your perspective...

Coming up, I am hoping to comment what I learned and took away from this story in a later post-- so stay tuned!  ;-)

Turn Around Slowly

I want to begin by dedicating with post to a dear friend of our family who passed away last Tuesday morning into glory, the presence of his dear and beloved Savior.

~~~~~~~~~

  

As I go through life I tend to catch myself in discontentment.  Not major, down-in-the-dumps, miserable depression, but moments of "If things were this way...."   These snapshot thoughts of mine go against my hopeful romance.  They are my fleshly reaction when things aren't the way I want things to be.

When my sister, Abigail, was born, I remember holding her, delighting in her new life.  I stroked her tiny, soft hands, kissed her tender cheeks, stroked the silky head, but yet there was a fleeting thought, "I wish she could smile at me..." 

 My little brother, John-David.  I was almost 7 when he was born.  For the longest time, I filled the "firstborn son" role.  Yep, if Daddy was away I took out the garbage, I killed any unwanted pests that came into the house, I did any heavy lifting, etc, etc, etc.  As I looked at the happy, giggling 2-year-old with a pack of fruit snacks in one hand, sippy cup in the other, I longed, sometimes even laughingly, "Can you grow up a little faster?"

I always wanted an older brother.  My mom miscarried hers and my dad's first baby, the one right before me.  He would have been 20 now.  All my life, "Lord, why?  Didn't You know how much I wanted an older sibling?"  Even though I knew that it couldn't be undone.

God has a distinct and specific purpose for everything.

These thoughts, though they seemed fleeting and innocent at the time, are deadly.  They wreak havoc in the mind, open the door for major discontentment, which ultimately leads to depression.  But it's a slow, steady process of allowing those tiny thoughts to perpetrate my mind.

This is a video that I made for my dad as a father's day gift 3.5 years ago.

This song, Turn Around Slowly teaches a simple truth.  The truth of that hopeful romance that I was talking so much about in my last post.

Live in this moment.

Love in this moment.

Thank God for this moment.

  It's so easy for me to get caught up in how things could be.  "What would my life be like if...?"  Or to dream about what might be coming next.   "When I get married...", "When I have kids...", "When we record a CD..."  

Where is my gratitude?  Where is my contentment?  Where is my perspective? 

  God has given me each of these moments as a gift.  Every breath that I take is ordained by Him.  He knows me, knows my heart, knows what's best for me.  When I am living in this truth, it helps me to "see" like a child again.

"She said, 'Look at me, Daddy, and love me this moment

this moment is all that we have...'"

 Abigail is almost 6 years old now.  She no longer has those tiny baby hands and silky baby fuzz on her head.  That moment went by so quickly!  But what do I have in this moment?  Her smile. Is nearly contagious, revealing that adorable tiny dimple on one side.  

John-David is 12 now.  No longer a giggly toddler, toting snacks and juice, but a boy quickly maturing to manhood before my very eyes.  Where did the time go?

My older brother, in heaven.  I later realized that if he had been born, I wouldn't have been.  Our pregnancies were too close together for it to have been possible for both of us to have been born.  He died, I lived.

"Turn around slowly, treasure your days here.

These precious moments may come to be rare..."

  I would like to take a moment to tell you about the man to whom I dedicated this post.

  About a year ago, a family in our church bought a piece of property that had a house on it with an attached apartment for the reasons of having the father's parents living with them.  The grandfather had Alzheimer's, and it was difficult for him to do anything for himself. He could barely communicate verbally.  

  This grandfather was a godly man.  He and his wife loved each other dearly.  They invested heavily into their children, the grandfather taught his son amazing wood-working skills, work ethic, and most importantly, a love for God.  It was this love for God that kindled within the son the obedience to honor his father and mother, by caring for them in their old age-- even though it was difficult.  

Every week at church, we would watch the father and son interact.  It was hard to watch the decline in the father's health.  But he always had a smile on his face-- almost every time I saw him, he had a huge grin on his face that just lit up the room.  When I would greet him on Sunday mornings, the love that spilled from his face touched my heart.  

When we pray for someone with Alzheimer's, what do we hope will happen?  That they will be healed and back to their "normal" selves?

Don't despise the moment.  Don't despise that beautiful smile.  I know his son longed to hear his father's voice, at least say his name, once more.  But as he watched his father tap his foot to the rhythm of the music that he and his children played one night, he knew he couldn't look back and miss this precious moment.  We all smiled and laughed when the grandfather noticed that one of the dads in the church had missed a belt loop.  The way he would waved and smile at my baby brother warmed my heart.  These moments were precious, and they have now come to be rare.  Yes, how we would have praised God for his healing, but now we praise God for those precious memories.  Those beautiful, smiling eyes, "Love me this moment..."

Don't live for what could be.  Don't spend your life allowing those seemingly innocent thoughts of "what if" to flit about your heart.  Live in this moment.  Love in this moment.  It is a gift from the Lord-- cherish it.  These precious moments may come to be rare...

Hopeless Romance?

I have been accused of being... shall we say, a bit dramatic.

When I love something, I love it and want everyone else to love it too.  When I see something beautiful, I want all to see it and enjoy it with me.  When I experience something amazing, I want the whole world to share in my joy.

A lot of people don't see things the same way I do.

Something that I love, that I have found to be beautiful, doesn't always excite the person I am trying to desperately to share with.

I am a hopeless romantic.

I remember the last autumn that we spent living up north, we had a huge maple tree in our back yard.  This tree was massive, the trunk probably had a circumference of 9 feet.  In the fall, the leaves would turn all shades of yellow, orange, and red-- a canopy over the entirety of our picket-fenced backyard.  I remember, I believe I was 10 at the time, standing in our driveway staring at the tree which rose up a good 5-6 stories tall.  I remember reverence, awe, and utter enjoyment.  What majesty! I had lived in that house for 5 years, I had seen autumn, I had seen the tree turn colors before-- but my breath (not to mention my heart) was stolen away in that singular moment.  I just pointed it out to my mom and dad, "Look, isn't it pretty?"  

I've always been this way, and generally my parents attributed my drama and hopeless romance it to my reading too many books. I can see this-- it's probably true.  Over the years I have gotten more and more practical, and less and less romantic.  Why?  Because I felt dumb when I would get excited over the smell of the crisp spring air, or seeing the intricacies of snowflakes for the first time, trying to get everyone else to "see", but being disappointed when they shrug and act as if it's all normal.

Sure, it's all normal.

I know that, I was just in an imaginary world for a second.  Pardon my drama... again.

I think that this apathy, this nonchalance is a direct attack from the enemy, satan.  He hates hopeless romantics, why?

 I believe that there is true value in being a hopeless romantic.... actually I would change that term, I'm going to now call myself a hopeful romantic.  This is the epitome of what satan hates so much. And I'll tell you why.

Hopeful romance is the essence of the child-like faith that Jesus alluded to in Luke 18:

15 And they were bringing even their babies to Him so that He would touch them, but when the disciples saw it, they began rebuking them. 16 But Jesus called for them, saying, “Permit the children to come to Me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. 17 Truly I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child will not enter it at all.”

What are some of the attributes of children?  Excitement.  Creativity.  Simplicity.  Wonder.  Carefree.

My little 3-year-old sister will bound into the kitchen while I'm doing dishes and thrust a weed, little yellow flower on one end, dirt shaking onto the floor from the roots left on the other end, into my face, "Look, Amy!  This is for you!"  I gasp, smile, "Oh, thank you!  You're so sweet!" I take the weed and carefully place it in a little teacup of water as a vase.  My sister's grin widens, her eyes disappear into her rosy cheeks as she struts out of the kitchen feeling like a million bucks.

"From the mouth of infants and nursing babes You have established strength..."

~Psalm 8:2a

A hopeless cynic sees that weed as nothing but what it is, a weed.  A hopeful romantic sees that weed for what it really is, a gesture of love.  Being able to "see" like a child, to see the beauty of a weed as a flower, to take it as a token of affection from another child, is the epitome of hopeful romance.

So, what makes this romance hopeful instead of hopeless, and how can one see any sort of romance in a world so saturated with sin?  Asks the cynic.

My romance goes back to the cross. (Eph 5:25)  Jesus loves me, I was bought with a price. (1 Cor. 6:20)  He died that I might live. (John 3:16)  I once was dead in my sin, naked, squirming in my blood. He came along, "Live!" He breathed. (Eze 16:4-6) He picked me up, washed me, clothed me, adorned me.

I was once dead, I am now alive.

I was lost, now I'm found.

I was blind, now I see.

I've been reading a book called One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp.  In this book, she writes about her journey in how she learned to go from blindness to sight, how she learned to live in the moment, to enjoy it as a gift from God, instead of merely a transition into the next moment.  She began numbering her blessings, gifts from God, some that only she could see.  Like the way that the sun poured in through her kitchen window on a mound of grated cheese.  Who sees beauty in that?  She did, because the Lord knew her, that she would appreciate it.  He loves her, and gifts her according to what he knows that she will love.

 "If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give what is good to those who ask Him!"

~Matthew 7:11

God loves me, and I love Him.  Ours is a relationship of hopeful romance.  I have hope in Jesus, that I will have eternal life.  I am His Bride, He woos me and showers me with blessings of His love, if only I have eyes to see them.

It comes in the forms of breathtaking color on the black arms of a gigantic maple.

The intricacies of snowflakes.

The sound of baby feet on the hardwood.

The smell of coffee early in the morning.

The scratches on the dining room floor.

The yeasty smell of bread dough on Famer's Market day.

That blissful feeling of that singular peace, that surpasses all understanding.

That, my friend, is why satan hates hopeless romantics.  Because they see the beauty in the tiny gifts that God gives, they enjoy them as gifts.  They revel in the joy and excitement of their Maker.  They are intoxicated by His love, it is displayed everywhere around them.  They can't help but want to praise Him for what He has done.  He loves them, and they see it everywhere.

May we ever live our lives looking for the gifts of God.  Yes, sin permeates the world.  It is grieving, and there is a time for that.  But as a general rule, the Lord has done so much for us, it is ours to thank Him, to enjoy Him, and to ultimately glorify Him and make His name known.

"When I consider Your heavens, the work of Your fingers,

The moon and the stars, which You have ordained;

 What is man that You take thought of him,

And the son of man that You care for him?"

~Psalm 8:3-4

"How precious are your thoughts to me, O God!

How vast is the sum of them!"

~Psalm 139:17

"Through Him then, let us continually offer up a sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of lips that give thanks to His name."

~Hebrews 13:15

"That I may proclaim with the voice of thanksgiving

And declare all Your wonders."

~Psalm 26:7