the symphony

movement one

a quiet, whispered prayer weaves across the landscape,

an urgent plea from a soft voice moving gently, lightly into the holy temple.

It's fragrance sweet, it's desperation humble. Floating in, it lands in the bowl of incense, holy incense, wafting a hint into the presence of the King. One prayer, spoken in less than a minute, offered up and then forgotten.

movement two

in another region, far from the first, another plea, gaining in strength,yet singular in voice. Lifted up and then forgotten; days passing before another request is offered up. A hint here. A whisper there. Breaking through defenses, weakened, and pathetic. Prayers not voiced from repentance, not filled with faith, random cries. Does the king hear? Does he see? Will he respond?

movement three

stronger now, prayers are offered more urgently as the pain and suffering and evil and fear intensifies; the need for intervention greater than the sacrifice of prayer, loss of self being in control, loss of selfishness, loss of ambition and independence and greed. These things fall away as the greater conviction rises and the call for help increases. Repentance begins and faith shines a little brighter until.....

movement four

a full, united symphony of voices, coming together with conviction and with request, with repentance and righteousness mingles, intertwines, bonding into one cord, praying in one accord for the King's will to be done. And He hears, and He delights, and He forgives and He answers.

the eyes of the dying

the eyes of the dying weren't terror filled, but peaceful

they weren't stricken with pain, but restful

they weren't haunted, but focused on seeing what is beyond, what is yet to come...

She lay in her bed, a sunken form shrouded by blankets, moving ever-so-slightly, her legs would softly wrestle with blankets she was wrapped in

breath in

breath out

breath in

breath out

while music floating on lyrical notes danced around her and the day ended in a winter-filled dusk, she lay

while cars traveled the roads beyond her window and the activity of her home's other residents stirred, she lay

while Dan and I sat, stilled, marking the moment, reading the journal entires, soaking in the pictures of a life well lived, she lay

we approached her then, laying on hands and praising and praying, committing and celebrating, presenting request and hope, she lay

and then, with a brilliant smile and translucent eyes, she spoke

"God bless you"

those words would be the last words we will hear from her this side of heaven

poignant, profound, and rich with meaning, our relationship will end

Good bye for now and God bless

fight for her

she has wounded

he won't wound back

she has betrayed

he has forgiven

she is deceived

he brings truth

she was seduced

he stands strong

she laughs

he weeps

she is bitter

he chooses to love

she is broken

he wants to help her be restored

she is mocking

he is silent

she is cruel

he endures

loves bears all things, endures all things, hopes for all things,

love is unshakable

love is unconditional

love is tenacious

fight for her, in this moment, at this time

bring her back, woo her, sacrifice for her, forgive her, believe in her, surround her, run after her, pursue her, teach and coach and support and listen and care for her.

In the moment of rejection, of devastation, remember your maker and see what once was, what can still be. Draw on the cord of three strands, stand strong, and fight.

eight years old

son, you are eight today

son, you are growing bigger and stronger, more capable and clever

you are bright and fun

you are quick and fast

you bring joy, excitement, interest, and life to all around you!

oh, how I pray that eight will be a step toward greater faith and deeper joy and fuller love

I pray that in this eighth year; you will experience more of the journey God

has laid out before you.

I pray you will seek God first in all things,

that you will ask him for the desires of your heart and

that you will walk in blessing, run in peace, and bring hope to God's people

happy birthday, son!

tapestry

reading a well written novel is like watching a finely woven tapestry come into being

rich scarlet, hunter, and indigo are introduced

cherry red and sunny butter creme are added

violet and navy danced into place

thread after thread are seamlessly woven into place

until

with breathless anticipation

as the final pages are read

a new masterpiece is formed

rich in texture

vibrant in hue

mezmerizing in detail

a new tapestry is given birth

and

the world is a richer place,

a more beautiful place

because of this new creation

a tiny piece falls away

my heart, finite as it is, is limited in space and capacity and ability.

it is filled with stuff; good and right and holy

AND

corruption and pain and failure

my heart is pieced together with a ragamuffin ribbon of events and experiences,

verses and hopes, promises and plagues, wonder and joy and horror and pain

this collection fragments,

falls to pieces at times.

today, a tiny piece of hope fell away.

i watched it fall.

expectations of what should be

hope of what might be

longing of all that would be

IF not for brokeness and illness.

today, a tiny piece broke away and it ripped and tore and bled a little.

i want so much for my son

the one set a apart

the one i dreamed would be different

the one i gave to God.

a tiny part of what I want fell away.

it's hurt and it's healing.

it's pain and it's growth.

his way will not be what i thought and

i wonder what will come into being,

what part will be filled in.

instead.

what color? what action? what purpose? what intent? what plan?

"faith is being sure of what I hope for and certain of what I do not see."

i'll follow.

blindly.

waiting for restoration,

waiting for a healed and whole heart.

who needs a god who

Who needs a god who blows up your child?

who doesn't prevent cancer?

who refuses to intervene when rape ravages, abuse deafens, war destroys?

Who needs a god who watches hurricanes plunder and tornadoes sweep the landscape clear?

who needs a god seemingly all powerful who rejects using that power to save?

If a god is any kind of god at all, he would prevent pain, remove injustice, stamp out abuse, destroy war.....right?

Let's see, I say he needs to prevent natural disasters, destroy evil murderers, remove dictators from power, punish rapist-abusive-destroyers.

Look closer. Who is the rapist? Why do they rape? Who is the warrior? Why does she fight? Why is the atmosphere on our planet so volatile that it produces storms that wreak havoc? What went wrong? It should be changed.

To what? Who decides what? Shall I step into the role of God? Shall I decide? determine? exact justice? Or maybe, I should assemble a panel of hand-picked experts. Then, we can chart the course for humanity.

It's true, if you believe that the only reason God exists to to spread horror. But look deeper. Go beyond your finite-limited-imperfect thinking. Seek ultimate truth. You'll discover that God is more than an enabler or a preventer of an event. It's so much bigger than that. So much more beyond. It will blow your mind, stretch your reality, it will be so much more than about you and what you determine is right or wrong.