another step is taken

it lumbers down the road

lights flashing

wheels turning

brakes screeching

door opens

voices calling

boots are shuffling

a new passenger, aboard

what precious cargo, this bus holds

what new connections will be made today?

what piece of the puzzle will snap into place?

each day, another step is taken-it may be a step back, a side step, or a step forward.

As parent and guide, I play a role; Active. Passive. Non-existent. Exuberant. Disengaged.

Its relentless and delightful, exhausting and full of privilege.

spirit of power, love, & self-discipline

"but a spirit of power, love, and self-discipline..." @ 2 Timothy 1:7. A spirit of power. Not the electrical-kind, allowing thousands of homes to be heated, to be lit, to be self-sufficient. Not the intoxicating, controlling, seducing kind that puts others down; that is centered on vanity, pride, and self. But the power to be love. The power to be disciplined. The power to live out the God-centered, Kingdom-building mission of Jesus Christ.

A spirit of love. Love puts others first, love endures all things, love is freely given and expects nothing in return, love is hope-filled, time-tested, all-encompassing. Love is a choice. And if a spirit of love binds, it is indestructible.

A spirit of self-discipline. Go ahead. Challenge God. Give it your best shot. Read the bible again and again. Test what it says. Pray without ceasing. Ask. Knock. Relentlessly pursue. Dare to be the best and watch Him take that effort, that self-discipline and move mountains, heal others, find peace, serve out justice. Watch Him alter your course, build your adventure, tailor fit your skill set, overwhelm you with all He has.

Spirit of fear

"For God has not given us a spirit of fear." Fear-of the unknown, uncertain, unchallenged. Anticipation of rejection, discomfort, pain. Expectations of failure. No effort, no risk. Bland. Blind. Numb. Is that what fear is? All in the mind, talked out of the adventure before I really begin? Examine it closely-fear. What does it smell like? What reference point do I relate it to?

The past. I carry around conversations, rejections, pains from the past? No one else knows. Why would I bring it up? The imprisonment is self-administrated. I placed the hand cuffs on. I tied the rope. I bound my mouth with the gag. No one else. Not one person is bringing up the past.

The future. I could fail, disappoint. I could sin. I could lose. I could be rejected. It's unknown.

I shouldn't try. It would be a disaster. The past has paved the way to writing the future. It's all broken. Why would I think I had the strength to change what's ordained to be? Again, the prison cell door is shut from the inside. By me. My hands closed the door. Slammed it shut. I hold the keys in my hand, but lack the power to open the door. I am enslaved by my doubts. My fears.

Why do I? Why would I sit in the seat of fear, allow a spirit of fear to bind me, when the God of the universe bought me and protected me, covered me, and saved me. When He says, "I have not given you a spirit of fear." If it's not from Him, why do I let it rule me? Oh God, take the keys.

how close do we come to darkness?

how close do we come to darkness?

how near do we walk beside danger?

"even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil"

like a child, blissfully unaware of the mine field upon which he plays

like a youth, carelessly driving too fast on a dirt road, narrowly missing the cliff

we tip toe around it, blindly stumble through it, crawl beside it, untouched....

until it's time for the testing. the waiting. the moment of faith without sight, courage through fear, conviction tested over integrity.

what seems to be random chaos is orchestrated;

a deliberate dance within a hot bed of coals

and if we knew how close we were, would we stop living? be afraid? seal ourselves up...

would we be bold and fearless? because we already know the outcome?

it comes down to choices. made by faith. refined by fire.

will you join in?

miracles

do you have to be seeking to find a miracle?

searching to find hope?

do you have to be asking to have a miracle?

are they purposeful?

are miracles seemingly random?

a blend of whimsy, a dash of fate, a sprinkle of a wish?

are miracles real?

do they happen today? now? in real time?

are miracles around us, beyond us, within us?

do we see them when they happen?

what are we missing?

do we want to know?

can we be satisfied to never know?

And if we can't know, does that mean we stop asking?

a love story

tell me a love story

a thousand times still

and i will never tire

but carry hope close to my heart

tell me he loves her

will fight and protect her

carry her and strengthen her

tell me she trusts him, believes him

will honor and care

with respect and joy, proudly carrying

his name, his identity, his legacy

tell me they will be bond, by choice

in faith, never-leaving, always-true

tell me a love story

a thousand times still

and i will never tire,

but be filled.

we need to imagine

Imagination. It conjures up four year old memories of castles, dragons, and kings. It brings to mind the royal quest to save the lost princess from destruction. To imagine means to go beyond what I see and what I can document to what I can feel and to what I can believe. Imagination poses new solutions, brings out magical endings, rides waves of fancy, and catapults us into the milky way. By imagination we can walk on water, live through fire, keep the sun from setting, time from continuing. Imagination is unending, infinite. Imagination can answer unanswerable questions, it can cast unknown explanations, it is bigger and better and ever changing.

We need to imagine, to get outside of ourselves, beyond out self-interests, and consider things greater than us. Imagination drives explorers to hunt, drives dreamers to find solutions, imagination causes us to grow. Wake up and imagine!

I used to hate November.....

Being a results-oriented-impatient-type-girl, I used to hate November. It was an unnecessary step to December. Typically, a cold and gray month in Minnesota; it ranks up there in Winter bleakness with February. Another not so favorite month. November is a long month, a delay, a holding period for the vivid warmth and color and light of December. November is the irritating math drill for learning the multiplication tables, its sweeping even corner of the kitchen after removing the chairs and garbage can before mopping. It's the set up, the details, the preparation for things better to come. November is the slow rise to the mountain top, the growing and decision making angst that tears and absorbs and inquires and questions. I used to hate November, but now, I am not in so much of a hurry. The world is hurrying around me already.

If it weren't for November, December would not come. If it weren't for November, I would not be ready for December. The leaves need to fall in November, the wood stacked, the Christmas lights hung outside, the conferences scheduled, the Christmas choir organized, the plans prepared so that December can come. AND in the midst of all of that, we take a day to be thankful. How can I not find November enduring? It's the set up for good things to come.

prayer

Prayer is instant, convenient, in real time, at any moment, accessible. No payment plan is needed, not credentials required. There is no dress code to prayer. It doesn't beckon with a learned language, but rather flows from the heart. Prayer isn't only for the privileged, the educated, the rich. Prayer is available to all. No secret codes, no expiration date, no shelf life. Prayer endures. It is eternal. It is ageless.

It is an ongoing conversation woven into the tapestry of our lives, it comes from a place within us and travels to a place completely beyond us. Prayer is magical, mystical, mysterious; prayer is unexplained. It's a pipeline, a river, a path; it's a journey, an adventure, a way of life.

Prayer is unstoppable, it is unshaken, it is our only hope.

Value

We understand value in direct contrast to something else. It's meaning is derived from a spectrum of what is desired and what is hated. The value of gold is valued in contrast to other metals, the value of love best understood in comparison to hate. The value of friendship viewed through the lens of not having friends, desiring meaning and relationship in sharp contrast to emptiness without community. The better we understand the value of something, the more focused we are in pursuit of it.

What do you value? Is it evident in your actions? Is the comparison between what you value and what you do obvious? If I value love, is it easily seen? Is it poured out daily in my actions, my words, my work, my relationships? If I value integrity, do my words match my meaning match my actions? If I value kindness, do others see it? If I value justice, do I mete it out? The spoken is not nearly as loud as the unspoken.

Value is as dark is to light, truth is to lie, hope is to despair, life is to death. It's a contrast, a tension, a meeting place of two adversaries, an appointment between friends, it's vital and it's important. What value marks your life?

Courage

Courage is being convinced that what you are about to do is greater than the fear standing in the way to do it. It is the strength of the mission greater than the cost. It is the understanding that the part you play is more important than the personal discomfort of the moment. Courage is eternal, fear is temporal. Courage is raw and untested, it is risky, it is brave. Courage means self-discipline, practiced control when doing someone completely beyond your control.

Courage freed slaves, it brought answers, it furthered history, courage solved mysteries, ran due diligence, evoked faith in dark times, withstands injustice. It stood in the gap, weathered the attacks of evil empires, dictatorships, military regimes. Courage takes you out of your bed, away from the warmth of your dream-surrounded blankets, jars your lazy mind, and calls you to stand.

Courage joins faith and love and propels you on the adventure of your lifetime. Do we see that our coffers of courage have gone low? Are we alarmed that self-comfort has arisen in our nation? How do we recover? How do we find a courageous heart once again?

favorite words

feign. murmur. padded. random words that I've found in nearly ever adult fiction book I've read this summer and I've read over 20 books. I think these are the top three favorites for authors to use. Or maybe it's a requirement for a ny bestseller listed title.


these words capture human emotion; feign, as in "I am only pretending to go along with you." murmur, as in a "subtle reply from a character ranging from agreement to listening" padded, as in, "she padded across the living room floor barefoot."

favorite words have a way of communicating so articulately, accurately a picture the words seek to portray.

The third partner

When I got married, I saw my prayers come true. I prayed for a man that loved God and loved me and I got one. For seventeen years, we have hung together; clinging through the tough times, celebrating the good times, laughing at our journey, and crying at our mistakes. We have very few, if any, regrets. Married young, we grew up together. From college students to grad students to 9 to 5 jobs to careers. From being married with no kids to married with three kids and a dog. As I sit on the eve on another surgery, I see that our marriage had a third partner all these years. The partner of pain. Loving someone with chronic pain is a contract I made the day I wed. It started with an injury, compounded by heredity, saddled with life's stressors and here we are, looking into number ten and wondering if this will set free the unwanted third partner. Living with pain teaches grace and perspective, contentment in the little things and being real. It also brings in crabby, sleep deprived frustrations. This next surgery has the potential to be life changing, altering forever the rhythm we've grown accustomed to. We are ready.

What does quiet sound like?

Have you ever noticed how loud our lives are? I began to think about this recently. I mused about what quiet sounds like. Sure, we talk about inside voices. "Kids, we are going inside, so talk with your inside voices." Sacred places like libraries have a reputation for quiet. But, have you noticed a library isn't very quiet either. Night time can be really loud too. Between the occasional car passing on the road, to the neighbors up late; from the crickets to the random bird flying by, even night time is loud. And the cemetery, too, can be a very loud place. The wind stirs the leaves, the lawn mower drones on and on.....

How close is quiet to stillness? Are they connected? Is is possible to drink in quiet when your soul is still? So much of what makes success is in the state of mind, the focus of our thinking. Do you crave quiet? Maybe it's time to find a stillness in your soul.

Presence

Isaiah 41:10, "So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed for I am your God, I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand."

His presence is with us; God, Almighty, the creator of the universe is with us. His presence is real and active; He Is is with you and me. He is near. And He is our God. And as God, he will strengthen us and help us. He will uphold us-being held by the Savior of all, and not being held be two fingers, loosely and carelessly, but held by righteousness, power, and strength.

His presence is in real time and his grip is secure. He won't drop you, he won't leave you, he won't forget you, God is so close that He's holding you.

summer evening

catching milk weed in the summer breeze

as it carries sweet air

whistling through my handle bars

as I bike past

gold finches dancing on the cat tails;

the sun dipping low on the horizon

as another summer night comes into view

welcome, still night, and wrap your warmth around me.

"Watch This, Mom!"

"Hey Mom, check out this move. Watch me do yoga on my bike!" "Mom, did you see that?" "Mom, can you help me open this banana?" "Mom, can you cut it?" "Mom, watch me throw this ball over the house, I bounced it on the ground and everything......" "Mom" "Mom!" "Mom?"

It doesn't matter what it is. It doesn't matter what he does. It could be the most imperceptible move ever.... It could be amazing, a big jump off the dock or a brilliant move on the bike. The most important thing is that I looked. I saw. I acknowledged.

Parenting can be so exhausting. Unimpressive. It can appear like I'm making no head way at all. You know, shoveling while the snow is still falling, sweeping while the sand is still blowing......parenting can be so demanding. But when I consider what is being asked of me at the moment, the single second in time, is no greater than a "good job!" "I saw it, son!" "Wow, that was great!" I am humbled. And thankful. I've been assigned to this moment. I need to fully engage, fully feel, fully be in it. I can do it.

wrong information

so you are traveling along and GPS says turn right and you do and you find yourself in the wrong location. Wrong information. Something along the way didn't work and you ended up lost.

so your family believes a lie once told by the patriarch that has wrecked havoc on each member and broken relationship, caused unhealthy alliances, family members disowning each other. Wrong information. A lie causes irreparable damage.

you find yourself pursuing a career that never felt right, never suited you, takes away from you rather than filling you up. Your path was paved by greed. You believed it to be right and now you are stuck; debt to pay, bills piling up, all because of the wrong information.

A lie is told, one small lie, judgment is passed and a world of hurt propels you into a life of a pain. Walls go up, you refuse to love again. Really, authentically, truly love. It just hurts too much.

What wrong information are you carrying today? Do you even recognize the lie that it is?

holding my breath

As I kid, I remember holding my breath and thinking I was drowning. It was a church picnic, no less, which in my mind exempts all bad things from happening because there should be holy people, God's favorites, all around. It should be a most blessed occasion, don't you think? Everyone looking out for everyone, everyone treating each other with kindness. I am so naive. Anyway, so I remember jumping off the dock and when I came up for air, I could not. I had jumped off and when I pushed up, I was under the dock, instead of beside it. I was so disoriented. I was struggling. I was holding my breath. I tried not to panic as I kicked off the ground and swam further from the deck. The worst part was that no one noticed it. I came up for air and all around me kids were laughing and splashing and swimming.

I've had other times when I've held my breath; delivering children, waiting for my husband to come home, hoping for success at work. But today, I am holding my breath for a different reason. I am waiting for life to really begin. It's weird, but I want more from this life. I am not satisfied. I am holding my breath and waiting.

thrill

"to affect with a sudden wave of keen emotion or excitement, as to produce a tremor or tingling sensation through the body"-Thrill.  As in, "I was thrilled to see my family after our long absence from one another."  Or, "It was a thrilling sight; the sun setting over the mountains, casting beams of rose, orange, and deep purples throughout the sky."  To be thrilled is a feeling of pleasure.  

"You thrill me, LORD, with all you have done for me!"  Psalm 92:4.  I've never thought of God in that way, thrilling me, causing a tingling sensation through my body.  But there is truth, deep truth, because truly all that I am, any good at all, is because of God's mercy.  So often, I am quick to blame God for my troubles, my discomfort, my pain, and my sadness.  When I disengage from God being tied to faults, own them for what they are as a result of my choices, then I arrive at the place were God can thrill me.  

It's always a choice. I choose to be thrilled.

Learning to Live Loved

In Wm. Paul Young's book, The Shack, there is a line that reads, "learn to live loved."  When I read those words, the phrase jumped off the page, climbed into my heart and nestled into a warm spot, melting fear and uncertainty and anxiety away.  What does learning to live loved really mean?

I've turned the phrase over and over again in my mind since that moment, and I've found it to be  challenging and delightful.  If I am loved, and I am convinced that I am, than I have so much more to give, so much more to learn, and so much more to do.  Being loved means loving others, the kind of can't-help-yourself because you are so full of it that it spills over into everything kind of love.  Like when you are eating Thanksgiving dinner and you don't mind tipping over the top with fullness because it tastes so good.  Or like walking through the park of Walt Disney World, truly believing that your heart will burst because your kids are happy and your spouse is happy and you are happy.  Or like watching the stars on a bright night, so full of wonder that you know God is real.  Learning to live loved has the power to change everything.

36

36.  My age. 36.  The number of kids who came forward today at vacation bible school when I asked who prayed the prayer to ask Jesus into their lives to be their forever friend.  Gently reminding my audience that if they'd already asked Jesus to be their savior, they needn't ask him again.  36 kids came forward.  36 lives that will be changed.  36 new conversations to have with parents about what happened today and what it means now and and in the moments to come.  36 new directions to follow.  

I was nervous to invite kids to come up; not to lead them in a prayer, I've done that before in groups and individually, but I was nervous that no one would come.  That maybe I'd do it wrong. Until God reminded me that it was his job to change hearts, not mine.  I needed to play a part, be obedient and in the community of the vbs team around, we created an environment, but God did the work.  And they came.  As we reflected on the number, I was reminded that I'd set a goal of 25% ,the weekend before, of the 150 kids.  God brought that number to mind.  Crazy how 36 fits nicely into that number.  Wink. Wink.  God, you truly are perfect.

What is it about vacation bible school?

I got a comment today from a parent regarding vacation bible school.  She shared her daughter's experience so far.  She explained,"My daughter was hesitant to come.  Her response when she learned that I'd signed her up was not positive." The mom continued, "My daughter said she endured Sunday School on the weekend and didn't want 5 more days of it."  Ouch, a harsh statement.  Churched kids have generally seen it all.  And kids of active and engaged parents, who volunteer a lot, have especially seen it all. They know the answer to every question- "Jesus".  They know which kids to avoid-the trouble makers.  They know which staff to talk to.  They are seasoned veterans.  Day One of vacation bible school went off without a hitch.  The daughter came home to her mom and expressed joyfully,"That was the most fun I've had a church.  The crafts were great, the games fun, and the muuuuusic.  Wow, Mom!  I can't wait to go back."  What is it about vacation bible school?  With over 100 volunteers, 160 kids, loads of crafts, songs, and games; the better question to ask is what isn't happening at vacation bible school? Nothing.  It's all there.

why encouragement matters

I've had two meaningful conversations this afternoon; one via e-mail and the other face to face. Both included encouragement.  I walked away from both experiences ignited with focus, clarity, and renewed energy.  Why?  Why would a few compliments aptly spoken leave such an indelible mark?  Certainly they came from people I admire and respect.  And yes, they were spoken in community with other factors; but much more than that, they were delivered with love. Those phrases of encouragement propel me forward, like a finely-tuned engine, fully equipped to run for miles.  Encouragement matters.  Maybe even more than reality.  The belief that someone is supporting you, the faith that someone believes in you, it boosts you up.  It's powerful.  It's potential.  How can I pay forward their gift today?  What words of encouragement do I need to speak into the life of another?  

those crazy summer clouds

While Carry On Wayward Son pounds out in the background-the guitar groove is amazing- those crazy summer clouds waft by.  Imported from the scene of a Pixar movie, these clouds are perfect in their imperfection.  A transition of deep indigo to the palest of blues is the backdrop for lusciously full clouds.  The are spaced like perfectly planted rows of corn, not a sequence out of place, as they stretch mile after mile into the horizon.  And with vivid accuracy, my human eyes take them in.  Usually, I have to scrunch up my nose and squint just right to see distances beyond my own 3 feet sphere; but today, I've been gifted with the eyes of a red tail hawk.  And as abruptly as I've noticed them, they slip away, overtaking the last rays of sun and melting together into a doom-less gray.   The sun isn't protesting it's loss today, just amiably fading away as it brightens someone else's horizon.  Amidst the quarrelsome fervor of  3 kids home from school on summer break, the neighbor aflutter with a lemonade stand and nosy dogs demanding playmates, I sit admiring those clouds; I am taken to a new place of serenity, certainty, calm.  Ahhh...... 

communicating

Dr. Rodger Dean Duncan, in his book Crucial Conversations, informs us that, "The way we talk or don't talk affects our body, it could kill you." He continues, " Conversations strengthen your immune system, help ward off disease, and increase your quality of life." I didn't realize the importance of communication and the disaster of not communicating. It makes sense, we were born with brains to think and mouths to speak, but it is a new learning to see how much this impacts us as individuals. What ways do I need to communicate today? What conversations do I need to have? The threat of not having those conversations is of greater risk to my health, over the long haul than the convenience of brushing them aside. What do you need to talk about today? What have you been putting off?

Priority

What is supposed to guide my everyday thoughts?  Actions?  Conversations?  Decisions?  Am I astute enough to create a grid to weigh every thought by?  Compare ever action to?  Would this make living too exhausting, too difficult?  And what if I didn't get the grid right?  What if this template was off and it skewed my success.  Developing a system of priorities shape who I am. This system is fluid and as I learn, it is modified.  However; what pours into this system is critical.  The bible teaches of a first and absolute priority of seeking God.  "Seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these (other) things will be given to you as well."  Matthew 6:33.  If seeking God is being poured into my system of priorities, then I will live fully.  This seeking requires shutting out better things to find the best thing.  It means letting go of the control I fight to maintain over the events I didn't orchestrate.  It requires trust in a higher power; God himself.  It means losing myself to gain.  Living by priority is a daily choice.

Truth

What if speaking truth meant broken relationship?  Is the cost worth it?  What if the message you needed to give would devastate another?  The message; spoken in love and truth severing the relationship.  The recipient unwilling or unprepared or unable to understand; emotion masking the message in a way that it will take time to process.  Is it worth it?  But, what if the message, once understood would bring life and hope and strength and health.  Who is injured more?  Who is stronger?  The message bringer or the message receiver?  And the cost, is living in a lie easier than broken healing in the truth?  Our humanness is rooted in brokenness desperate for restoration-only we don't know it really or see it fully.  We cannot comprehend it.  Truth cuts.  It prunes. It severs.  And, truth heals.  That Jesus Christ would speak truth, that his Father would release Jesus to face suffering, torture, and rejection so that we would be restored is incomprehensible.  It is also where hope is.  And faith.  And trust.  And love.  The cost of bringing truth is much higher for the message bearer, the risk is greater.  So when truth is given, receive it. And when truth is needed to be spoken, say it.

heaven

The bible paints a picture of what heaven will be like; God, in his perfection, at it's center, illuminating the beautiful city.  Heavenly creatures in non stop worship and praise.  Mansions prepared for us.  The climate is jubilant, triumphant and the tenor; melodic.  Righteousness prevails.  Purity wins out.  Truth is proclaimed.  There will be no more weeping, no more illness, no more sin.  It is a city that never ends, never fails, never ceases, never ruins, never tires.  And this human life is just a prelude.  Its a preparation; the foundation of our relationship with God begins here.  But it doesn't end here.  It ends in heaven.  A place where that relationship, once established, will never end.  "I will come back for you," Jesus replies....  "Remember me"  He states...  "Be strong and courageous,"  He urges...  "Love one another,"  He commands.  We got a lot to do in the mean time. He left us with instructions and he left us with a promise.

Patient endurance

Patient endurance.  We are called as a people to patiently endure.  Our time is coming and all that is will be made known.  In the meantime, in the minutes and hours and days and months and years, we are called to wait patiently.  Patience.  Not a minute of grace extended out of mercy.  Not a brief exchange when we feel like it.  But on going, relentless patience.  What does patience look like-the kind that endures people letting us down?  The kind that resurfaces when painful disappointments, mistakes, regrets, and guilt fills us?  It's the patient endurance that grows from a faith that not only convinces us, but consumes us.  A faith that overrides brokenness.  A faith that builds through all of life's events.  It's the kind of faith I am staking my life on.  If I am wrong, I will have lost nothing.  If I am right, my eternity is aligned and clear.

walls

Early on in childhood we learn about rejection; we see injustice, we experience hurt. Sometimes physical pain teaches us life lessons, but more than that, we learn about emotional pain.  The quick learners among us pay attention, noting what words not to say, what emotions not to express that will affect others.  This affect that will cause others to reject us.  We want to be a like.  We want to fit in.  We build walls around our hearts to ensure the sameness will override the differences.  These walls get built brick by brick.  A friend betrays a confidence and a wall of brick is laid.  A parent goes back on a promise.  Another brick.  A teacher speaks a hasty word that criticizes.  Another brick.  We layer these bricks with self-centeredness, with lies, with pride, with anger, rage, malice.  Over the years, the heart is the hardest to reach, the farthest to see, the most deeply hidden.  A suddenly, our heart is full; full of the wrong things, full of the things it was not designed to be full of.  We don't have the strength to remove the walls, we don't have the energy to face the pain, and we don't have the endurance to grieve and then heal.  If our hearts our already full, there is no room for love. 

death

My daughter's friend died yesterday.  It was a sad day.  Many students stood in the hallway and cried as I came to pick her up mid-day.  With wet eyes and a red face, she ran to hug me.  She is quiet, taking everything in.  She is uncertain.  She doesn't know what to think or feel.  Sadness comes in a flurry and as quickly departs again.  Later in the day, we went to the friend's home. His parents quickly embraced her, telling her how much she meant to them, how loved she was.  She brought a card and flowers, tucking in a picture of the two of them.  Today, she went to school, but was bothered by the way people were following her around.  Moment by moment, she is experiencing death-what it means to her, to others, how to talk about it, what to say, it's all so awkward.  Piece by piece falling into place, as her landscape of life and death broadens.  It's humbling and numbing and surreal and very real.  It makes me uncomfortable, but it is necessary. Death leaves an indelible mark.

slowing down

There is an impetuousness to youth; an impulsivity, a driving, a passion that blazes forward. Thoughtless at times, not meaning to offend, but self centered.  I have lived that life with impulsivity; not catastrophically, but with persistence.  I raced forward for the next accomplishment that life told me I needed to attain.  Get married as quickly as possible, have children, find a meaningful work, strive, accomplish.  Don't rest.  Don't stop.  I moved too briefly through each passing, that I never enjoyed them fully.

Growing older is not a curse, it's a blessing.  Slowing down means capturing not only the message, but understanding it's meaning, pondering the possibilities, listening, seeing.  It's not loss as we grow, it's gain.  

I saw a child today, not more than 12 months old, trying to walk.  Mom walked dutifully beside him as he teetered.  She held his hand responsibly.  I saw her face, reading the expression that she could move more quickly if she carried him.  Then I saw the child's face; golden curls, laughing blue eyes, joyful disposition.  I smiled at him and he returned the smile with brilliance.  It was dazzling.  It set my morning into proper perspective.  I want to enjoy each moment.  I won't pass this way again.  Slowing down, observing, listening, and responding; these should be the hallmark of my days.

ingredients to a great story

The first 3 chapters in Genesis contain it all.  God creates a masterpiece, puts people into his creation.  People in love; a man and a woman, created for community.  He gives them purpose and pleasure; care-taking for the creation around them and sexual relation between them. Tension grows when a serpent enters into the plot.  A climax arises when God delivers his curses; one of the serpent, one of the woman, one of the man; the order within which the first sin entered in. And while this transgression is great, God's act of love is to care for the man and the woman, while displacing them from his perfect paradise.  And, angels show up to guard that paradise, to this day, the flaming sword flashes back and forth.  To this very day.  It's all there; God, creation, man, woman, divine love, earthly love, temptation, consequence, angels.  If that is how we began, why would we question, why would we imagine, we are extinct from that today? Why would we doubt the existence of God?  Of consequence?  Of redemption?  Of solution?  We are taught to think above this, but our thinking in this way doesn't exempt us from the realty that we are within it as well.

Temptation

Consider Eve for one moment; she walked in complete security, a man she loved by her side, perfectly suited for her a match in every way.  She lived in a place a beauty, a paradise without discomfort or displeasure.  She walked alongside God in the evening; in complete fellowship and unity.  And she let that all go for temporary pleasure, for temptation.  Was the tempter that convincing?  Was his form that persuasive?  Did boredom compel her forward?  Was it his seductive manner; his questions that pierced to her heart, arrows of doubt?  Whatever it was, he was effective.  So much so, that in an instant, her live, our lives, changed forever.  And if she, in complete comfort, fulfillment, and ease, could so quickly be swept away, are we without hope? The story doesn't end there.  The biblical account continues through legends of heroes and fatal mistakes.  Through generation and again generation until a change of course.  Jesus was born.  And "God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God." God made Jesus sin.  Our sin.  Yours and mine.  Jesus took on our sin that we may become righteous.  The point isn't that we are tempted, because we've observed that in perfect comfort, we fall.  The point is that we are saved.  Again and again.  All we need to do is repent and seek him.

the daily battlefield for my mind

Not being accustomed to war, not growing up in a war time, seeing my first global conflict of the gulf war on TV in the early 1990's; I cannot connect my mind with the hate that would rage so soundly that people would sacrifice their lives for their cause.  However, living long enough to observe and examine my own frightful and broken nature, I see the inner battle that is waged daily for my mind.  The enemy's deceit is clever; a subtle thought of self defeat, a judging comment on an innocent one around me, the flattering lies that puff up my nature, the recordings of my past playing again and again in my mind of loss and rejection, at times it feels like I cannot control a single thought.  This war, silent but strong can only be combated through the love and grace of God and daily training in His word.  His word is life and truth and freedom.  His love is pure and strong and true.  Why would I resist this love, this life line of hope, to my already weary and battled soul?  The tools needed to fight have been given, will I take them up?

audience of one

For college, our band played in a Christmas event that was filled with much pomp and circumstance. Years of tradition would play out in the collaboration of the event between composers, musicians, readings, and choral pieces. We wore black and white, with a hint of red; we practiced hours and hours and when the event finally arrived, we solemnly took our places. I remember the moment of worship as clearly as I see the world around me today. As a flutist, I would play portions of each piece, counting diligently until my measure arrived, and then play as if I was in an audience of one. I remember the musicians fading away from my mind, the conductor's ferocity blending into the background, the audience slipping away as I played for my maker. It was He and I alone and despite my humanness, he was blessed by my playing. He accepted my gift, he approved of me, he delighted in me. And while I could not see him, I felt his warmth and soaked in the light; I could have played forever....

the invitation

I remember well the outdoor amphitheater, the log benches in row after row.  It was night and the glow of the enormous bonfire filled the the arena and beyond.  The warmth was palpable; the embers mesmerizing us all as we listened thoughtfully, reflectively to the invitation.  In our youth, we were eager, ready and waiting.  Anticipation overwhelmed us and yet we were hesitant. What would our actions to the invitation mean? The transformation that beckoned us, the light that hypnotized us, would it require all we had?  Was I willing to make that kind of sacrifice?  I stood and calmly, yet fearfully moved forward.  I would accept the invitation, I would answer the call.  Drawing closer to the fire, meeting the speaker's eyes, I stood. The speaker merely nodded, eyes filled with the Spirit of God, warm and welcoming.  I was ready to make a commitment, a statement of dedication.  The light that drew me in at five, re-appeared and filled me. In the presence of the community, I made my allegiance clear.

experiencing the light

The first time I felt the warmth, sensed his presence, and experienced the light, I was a child of 5 years old.  I remember vividly the day.  I sat, dejected and forlorn on my bed.  My room was small and sharing it with my older sister made the space even tinier.  She and I were worlds a part in our thinking and our being.  Often, we were in conflict.  The windows were to my right, as I cried on my bed.  It was windy, too, as the shadows of the branches of the old white oaks danced across the the floor.  Spiritedly, those shadows would jerk.  What seems like eons of time passed as I waited in my prison, comforted only by the light.  This light was warm and enduring, wrapping me in a thick blanket, holding me close.  And then a gentle knock, and a strained voice shook me out of my reverie.  It was my first encounter with sin, and while I don't remember the infraction...quite possibly insolence, I remember the weight of my depravity.  I was a sinner and needed saving.  The light would save me that day as my mother led me in the prayer of salvation.

Seeing Truly

In the children's book, The Spiderwick Chronicles, the main character uses a spy-glass to see the truth of the world around him. There are fantastical creatures of beauty and of horror and they have been there...here, around him, all the time. He never saw them before, but just because he was ignorant to them didn't mean they weren't there. As the writer of 1 Corinthians concludes in a passage written to the people of Corinth, he states, "now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. There is a way to see truly, see things for what they are...we have to seek this seeing out. Does it matter? To some, it won't. But to others, those who truly want to see, to live fully, it matters completely. More than life and breath, food and comfort.

What love is

Ancient words from the bible tell us that, "love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails." This picture of loves seems distant and foreign, a description that is often unseen. An image of love that takes discipline and effort to experience. I believe we are all capable of such love. It's within us. Do we have the guts to practice this kind of love?

Waking up

I didn't realize how long I'd been asleep.  Hours, days, months, years.  They all slipped together, woven into rhythm of to do lists, work projects, meal schedules, homework details, on-going problems and busyness of life.  It was the busyness that lulled me to sleep; a seducing, twistingly haunting melody that persisted so intensely that I closed my eyes and drifted away.  The sleeping part wasn't joy filled, but it felt necessary, accurate.  Meet the needs of others, fulfill obligations, answers demands, just keep going. And then, I simply woke up.  A calling from love awakened me to the fullness of life.

The beginning

Why blog?  The writing process has always fascinated me.  To express a thought, exchange an idea, elaborate on the world around me; writing is for me a tremendous release.  It's a process that leads to healing and wholeness.  And, it's about the potential impact one idea can make.  Potential.  The word alone inspires expectancy.  Potential is having the capacity to become something in the future.  Potentialis-the expectation that things will become.  After all, we are all in process.