GOD Calling

i want to be
ALIVE--
i don't want to
live the dead life.
i don't want to
be the one
who shrunk into the
shadows of fear,
to be kept for safety
and comfort,
Trading
Radical TRUST
for
commonplace anonymity.

i want
to be ALIVE--
with
Wonder &
Spirit &
Courage &
Daring &
the
Outrageous ASSUMPTION
that
My Life
was
MADE
for
SOMETHING
IMPORTANT
BEAUTIFUL
GOOD.

i want to spend
the stuff of
Who i am
in the
Glorious DISCOVERY
of this
Something,

so that
someday
i can smile
at my MAKER,
whisper Joyfully,
"We had a good ride, yes?"

And to feel the
YES
 of
GOD
smile back.

Receive and Release

I felt led to take a walk this morning, at a nearby park.  As soon as I got out of my car the music started, blaring across the grass, and I'm thinking "this is what You wanted me to experience Lord?  this noise?"  And the whisper came to me, "people hear what they want to."

I tried really hard to listen to nature, beyond the too loud music, beyond the too loud musings of my upset.

As I walked I thought, "this is what my life feels like sometimes."  So much noise.  But surrounded by so much beauty.  As a mother of three boys, it's easy to hear only the noise and miss the beauty.  I want to shush them.  But then their noise is part of their beauty.

I catch sight of a butterfly opening its wings.  I think, maybe if I'm quiet enough, silence my phone, I can grab a quick picture.  Funny to me now as I write these words.  The butterfly probably wouldn't have noticed the little click amidst the cacophony of sound pouring out around us.  How sweetly he opened his wings so I could see him.

I am thinking of my son now.  Noah celebrated his birthday yesterday.  He is growing quickly.  It won't be long before he is taller than me.  Yesterday morning he used impeccable manners.  Precious please's and thank you's, never once coaxed from me.  His joy in living his birth day bringing forth his own goodness to make it a good day.  Like the butterfly, sweetly opening his wings so I could see the beauty of who he is. 

There will come a day soon when he will test those wings out.  He will fly on his own.  He will want the opportunity to see what he is made of, and will do so stepping out into the world, making sure I stay at home.  And I hear the clock ticking.  I will have to release him into the world hoping my mamma love has given him what is needed for strong flight.

It's hard doing this parenting thing.  Sometimes we hold on too tight.  Sometimes we push too hard.  We tug and pull in what seems like the right direction only to find out our nagging really just created a gap needing to be filled with Grace.  I think of my mistakes with Noah.  I am so glad in this snapshot of his life he has given me grace.  It reminds me we are held by a bigger Grace.

One particular moment of grace has marked me forever.  I was attending a retreat in a beautiful mountain setting.   It was the summer Noah was preparing to enter kindergarten.  He was so ready, yet he still struggled with one particular area at home that caused us concern.  During one of our retreat sessions I was paired with an older woman.  We were asked to share where we were trying to manage our lives through power over others verses the way of Jesus.  I shared with this dear woman my angst of trying to help my son through his struggle.  I wanted him to overcome the issue he was working on, but I also didn’t want him to feel shame and discouragement from me.  With great gentleness she looked me in the eyes, searching my face, my heart.  “I can tell you love this child,” she said.  “You don’t need to worry.  Love prevails.”

When I think of Noah, and especially of the mistakes I have made trying to be his mamma, I remember this.  I love this man child.  And his very existence reminds me that God loves me:  Our sweet Noah, born as the answer to years of praying for children.  I know that I must receive this time with him as gift.  The moments we get to share are passing.  And even though those moments are often noisy, they are opportunities for beauty.  I can wish away their noisiness, or I can rest my heart in their beauty, and enjoy each one.

 

I know it's not time for him to fly away, to make his own way in the world yet.  But already I can see him testing his wings.  He is the sweet child Tim and I received as our first son.  He is the first one we will also have to release to God's Grace.  I rest in knowing that Love prevails.  Our love, even in its human frailty, is enough to give him the beginning he needs.  And God's Love, is more than enough to hold him while he makes his way into becoming the man God created him to be.

 

Let Love Guide You . . . .

My sweet husband has just embarked on a new adventure as an elementary school principal.  We both know that God has put him in this position.  We also know that as much as it is a huge answer to years of praying, the blessing does not rest with Tim alone.  We know that God's purpose in this adventure moves through Tim to touch countless lives that will be affected by Tim's leadership. 

With the new position comes a new office.  A bare, stark white office.  One that needs some serious attention.  I don't know if he meant it, but Tim invited me to decorate.  I set to work making curtains, bulletin boards, a cover for his tissue box so that it would match.  But with all the effort, there was still one wall that was out of place.  A barren expanse of white-washed wall that sucked the life out of the room.  I told him I would make him a piece of art.

I knew I had to find a way to use the colors in his curtains.  I also knew whatever I created had to be something worth looking at everyday:  an inspiration, a mandate, a word of encouragement.  Here is what came to me:

The original idea didn't look very impressive.  Original ideas never do.  They have not yet had the process of engagement to flesh them out, to make them incarnate, to take what was simply thought and turn it into glorious reality.  The faint sketch barely resembles the outcome.  But the outline is there.  It is just waiting for the process of actualization to become all it is intended to be.

One of my dearest friends used to say to me, "The process is love; don't hinder the process."  As a young pastor in my first appointment I found her words so helpful.  So much happened during that time.  Some confusing things, conflicting things, difficult things.  Her words reminded me that our best answer to the questions we must live always begins with love.  God's love first.  Our love as we walk out His intensions for our lives.

When God began telling us He had plans for Tim, it was during one of the hardest seasons we had ever faced.  Tim knew that he was in a position where his skills and passions were being underutilized.  He ached for something more in life, yet every avenue to pursue that more seemed closed to him.  Into that season God sent this scripture:

"For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope."  Jeremiah 29:11

The King James Version states it like this:

"For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end." 

Truly God has thought this thing through.  The thing that keeps you up at night.  The thing that looks so hopeless.  The thing that feels as if it will drain all the life right out of you.  God has thought it through and knows how He is going to bring you through it to resolution, to peace, to joy, to purpose.   God will not only infuse your present experience with purpose, He is working to bring you into your purpose, the thing He created you for.

When God gave this message to the Israelites, they were in exile.  False prophets all around kept saying God would immediately defeat their enemies and bring them home.  Not Jeremiah, who had God's truth.  Jeremiah told them they would not return home for 70 years.  Yet Jeremiah also brought the message that God had not forgotten about them, that God was intimately connected to what they were experiencing and that He was working on their behalf for good.  Real.  Tangible.  Good.  Something they could recognize as good. 

During those discouraging days it took everything within us to believe God was going to bring His Good back into our lives.  But sure enough He did.  I kept telling Tim, "I'll know it when I see it."  The day he walked in the door and told me he got the principal's job, I fell to my knees.  I knew I had just seen the Goodness of God walk into our lives.

Here is the truth:  While God was working out His plans for Tim, He was also working within Tim, making him ready for this day.  God was loving him into a new place, teaching him gently, giving him to new understanding, opening his heart, showing him what the process of love really looks like.  God was leading him with love into a new place so that he would know how to lead with love, taking those entrusted to his care to God's new place for them.

Here is what I know:  Loving God has to be first in our lives.  If anything else supersedes that, we are heading for heartache.  When we love God with everything we are, God is able to work unhindered in putting His plans into place for us.  And once we love God first, God is able to show us how to love everyone else.  Ourselves.  Our neighbor.  Everything else in our lives finds its proper place.  And all those plans and intentions and hopes and dreams God has for us begin taking shape.  So that one day we see God's Goodness walk right into our lives.

Walk By Faith

 

It's funny how life is.  How it is always changing.  Sometimes you never know when the changes are coming.  I am not opposed to change.  I actually kind of like it because it smells of adventure.  I like the exhilaration that comes with wide open possibilities. 

 

The thing is, new roads often mean leaving old places.  And faces.  This is where I get hung up.  It is not in me to leave.  I can move to the next place, but I can't leave.  And usually God has to close doors for me to understand that it is time to move. 

 

Sometimes those door closings are painful.  Something we would never choose.  And the road leading from the familiar is littered with snot-filled tissues as we walk away from what was, weeping. . .  limping.  I've been there.

 

Two years ago when God moved me out of campus ministry, that's what it was.  I could not see clearly the road ahead because of the tears.  Like Mary at the tomb on Easter morning, I could not see the Hope born of emptiness. 

 

Every time I sat in worship during that season of saying goodbye it seemed Jeremy Camp's song  "Walk By Faith" was on the play list:

    

Well I will walk by faith

Even when I cannot see

Well because this broken road

Prepares Your will for me

 

I would weep and sing.  And pray.  And hope.  And trust.  Beyond feelings I trusted that God could bring something beautiful out of my heartache.

 

God's sense of humor in all of this is that He placed me in a pre-school.  (I say sense of humor because when I was brand new into ministry and barely 26 years old He placed me in ministry with senior adults and the elderly.)  For two years I have enjoyed the honor of teaching  little ones about Him.  In a place full of love, and humor, and grace.  A safe place where my broken heart could heal.  Where I could forget my heartache in the daily grace of teaching ABC's, 123's, and "Yes, Jesus Loves Me."  For each person I met in that sacred classroom, I have deep gratitude.  Each sweet lady who partnered with me in teaching has always been full of goodness, and each one taught me more than they taught our little charges.  I cherish these dear ladies. 

 

Last spring God led me to read a gardening book.  Sometimes I don't understand the nudges.  But I've learned it's always better to follow them.  Especially when I don't understand.  As I read, I began to sense that my life is the garden God is tending.  One passage in particular caught my attention:

"Cover crops.  To obliterate a really pernicious weed, plant a living mulch in the form of a cover crop that grows thick and heavy for one growing season.  Buckwheat works well for this purpose.  As soon as it begins to flower, I use a scythe to mow it down or till the plants into the soil as green manure.  If you mow it, compost what you cut down.  Make a second planting and then mow or till again.  By the end of the season, those weeds should be gone.  And as a bonus, there will be a lot more organic matter in your soil."  The Vegetable Gardener's Bible.  p. 99

I believe God was showing me that another season in my life was getting ready to come to an end.  A sweet season.  A buckwheat season.  Maybe not the thing that set my heart on fire, but a season with a purpose.  A season that was there to bring new life to my broken heart, maybe clear out some stubborn weeds like perfectionism and approval addiction that have been choking out the fruit in my ministry.  And maybe God was using this time of teaching preschool to replenish the worn out soil of my heart. 

Not long after, I began having dreams of being in ministry again.   I would wake up longing for those ministry moments that set my heart on fire.  And I became very restless.  My sweet husband prayed so diligently for me.  One night I told him that I felt like I was waiting for something, something to open up.  The next day he said to me he felt God asking me instead, "What are you waiting for?" 

Sometimes, instead of moving us out of an old place, God simply asks us to come to a new place.   He gives us an invitation to the unknown.  And we can stay in familiar.  No one is moving us out.  Or we can take a leap of faith.  I'm really bad at leaving.  But I am learning how to leap.

The new song on my play list is "Walk on the Water" by Britt Nicole.  When I heard it for the first time, I almost fell out of my chair.  Tim's words to me were so fresh on my heart:

So what are you waiting for
What do you have to lose?
Your insecurities try to alter you
You know you're made for more
So don't be afraid to move
Your faith is all it takes and you can
Walk on the water too.

Here's the difference between this walk of faith and the last one; this one is more invitation.  It's not something that has been chosen for me.  Instead it is something I must choose.  God has been inviting me to go with Him.  I'm not exactly sure where I will end up.  I just know it's the right thing to do.  To open up space in my life where I can follow Him.  I feel like Abraham:  "Now the LORD said to Abram, 'Go from your country and your kindred and your father's house to the land that I will show you.  I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing'" (Genesis 12:1-2). 

My heart is healed.  My eyes are lifted up.  The limp is gone.  I can see the first few steps of the path before me.

Following God means I won't be teaching pre-school anymore.  I hate that.  I am so, so, so thankful for the Early Learning Center, and all it has given me.  But I also know that I can't put this off any longer.  I don't want to miss my opportunity--

to walk on the water too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Turn It Up!

Last week we celebrated VBS, also known as Vacation Bible School.  Every night we gathered at our church with over 200 children and gads of volunteers to jump and sing and dance and learn about how God is always with us, leading us, saving us, and then working through us to bring His Love and Light to the world.  Once again I got to teach faith skills to a group of children, Kindergarten through fifth grade.

One of the nights focused on the Israelites and the time they spent in the wilderness after God rescued them from slavery in Egypt.  During our faith skills time, we focused on how the Israelites grumbled and complained, and how important it is to let go of our complaints so that we can praise God instead.

I have been sitting with this lesson all week, ruminating on how true it is today, how its truth has been woven into the fabric of my life, how intricately it is linked to seeing God's power burst forth in our own lives.

I'm a practical girl.  I want to see what something looks like.  Theory is fine, but if it can't be translated into actual practice that I can wrap my life around, I'm not interested.  And when you are trying to teach the Big Truths of God to children, it had better be practical. 

During that night at while I taught faith skills, the Holy Spirit brought to mind a simple explanation of praise that is still bouncing around inside of me.  My children have taught me everything I really need to know about praise.

That sweet little one will hold me close at night.  Draped across my lap he holds me close and whispers, "You boo-ti-ful Mommy."

I try to stop and soak up the love, resting my heart in such simple grace.

My middle son jumps into life with both feet.  He is all in or not in at all.  But I love spending time with him because no matter how simple the activity, as long as we are together, he will always come away with an exuberant "That was awesome!"  I love hearing it!  I love sharing awesomeness with him, living the awesomeness together.

And my oldest child?  He is a thinker.  He is constantly reflecting on his experiences, learning from them, taking in the lessons, processing them with endless questions.  And sometimes out of his reflections, after the thing has passed, will come a simple, deeply felt, "Thank you for . . . ."

I treasure those moments.  Because they are rare in an active boy's life.  Because they come from a deep place.  Because they are pure gratitude.

I know life is hard.  I know in my bones how scary uncertainty can be.  I know what it is like to be surrounded by people, yet to feel agonizingly alone.  I know the pain of regret, disappointment, betrayal, rejection.  I know life isn't fair.  I know life is hard.

But what I have found is that no bad place is ever a match for God's Glory revealed in dark places.  Such Glory is always available to us.  God ushers His Glory into our lives as we praise Him.  In the praising we are promoted.

I don't know how else to say it.

As we praise Him, we are promoted to a better place.

As we focus our will and heart and mind on the simple act of . . .
--telling our Lord He is beautiful, seeking and seeing His beauty;
--enjoying His presence and work in our lives, responding exuberantly to His work, declaring His awesomeness;
--reflecting on How He has blessed us, offering a simple, yet deeply held, "Thank You;"
all that is life as we know it is immersed in His Greatness and His Goodness and things become different.

The seed of our transformation is planted, and nurtured, and watered in our praises.  We are changed.  And all around us begins to change.  Our hearts our opened to our Helper.  Our eyes are open to His Help.  Our ears are opened to His Voice speaking into our darkness and calling forth His Light.

And it's not about how we feel.  If we don't feel like it, do it anyway.  This is where the power is.  We push through what circumstances and feelings and the world is telling us to PRAISE HIM ANYWAY.  And when our praise is costly, because it is hard, when it is truly a sacrifice, because it doesn't come easy--God moves in a big time big way.  This is the thing the enemy does not want you to know.  This is the thing the enemy wants to avoid.  You praising God when the only way you can do it is by faith, since the feelings aren't there.

We see it in scripture all the time.  My favorite place is where Paul speaks of Abraham:

"No distrust made him waver concerning the promise of God, but he grew strong in his faith as he gave glory to God, being fully convinced that God was able to do what he had promised."  Romans 4:20-21

Abraham didn't start out strong.  But he grew strong as he gave glory to God.  His belief and trust in God grew strong as he honored, praised, and worshipped God.  It reminds me that when my faith is lagging, there is only one thing I need to do.

Turn it up!

The World Is My Canvas

 

One of our summer activities has been sidewalk painting.  To be honest, I think I have enjoyed it more than the boys have.  Last year I became the art lady for the pre-schoolers in my classroom.  The other teachers tackled the heavier stuff:  math, science, literacy.  I did art.  And Jesus.  And somehow I found a way to link the two.  I discovered something about myself in teaching little ones how to do various projects--there is a creative soul in me that needs to get out.  This summer I've had moments where I could learn what it means to do that. 

 

So while the boys lost interest in their sidewalk chalk spiders, I picked up a brush and began painting the sun.

 

Creativity never really originates with us at all.  In fact, our creative impulses are the reflection of a greater Creative Pulse giving Life to the whole world.  God's breathes into us, and we are created, we are made alive.  His idea of us came before we did.  I love the way the Psalmist explains this mystery:

For it was you who formed my inward parts; you knit me together in my mother's womb.  I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.  Wonderful are your works; that I know very well.  My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth.  Your eyes beheld my unformed substance.  In your book were written all the days that were formed for me, when none of them as yet existed.  Psalm 139:13-16

It is wondrous to me to consider that the stuff of who I am came about with forethought and purpose.  Kind of like any creative endeavor I do.  Regardless of the medium of expression (it could be writing, sewing, drawing), I see it in my head first.  And then I set about bringing that idea to life. 

Consider this with me--God liked the idea of who we are so much that He had to give it life!

He just had to.  He couldn't imagine His world being complete without us in it .  And the making of us brings Him joy, to see us walking around in the world with all the expressions of self He put there brings Divine Delight.

But here's the big difference between God as Creative Spirit and us as creative souls:  When we complete a project, it is done.  When God gives us life, the creative endeavor has just begun. 

Ephesians speaks of this:  "For we are what he has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life" (2:10).  Other translations say we are His workmanship; another says we are His masterpiece.  We are what His thought expressing Itself in love has produced.  And the perfect expression of His original Intent finds fulfillment in Jesus Christ.  AS we live and move and have our being in Christ, God's creative endeavor finds completion.

I love how the completion of our creation is found in the "good work" God also thought of ahead of time to have us to do.  Like puzzle pieces fitting together--

                The stuff of who we are--
                                                                 --perfectly matches the work God made us for.

How cool is that?

I begin to think that to understand the work God has for us, we also must understand and EMBRACE the design of who we are.

No more complaining about our quirkiness.  No more trying to be something we are not.  No more allowing someone else to remake us into a design they believe is better.

NO MORE GIVING OUR POWER AWAY.

That is heavy.

And oh so important.

Because here's the thing:  Since we are co-creators with God in this life we are called to live, His part can be excellently done while ours can be forever left undone.  The works God prepared are to be our way of life.  But we can always choose to live another way.  We can choose to try to be something we are not.  We could choose to not live into the purpose for which we are made.

And something Beautiful that could be never gets the chance to live.

John Wesley said "The world is my parish."  And I'm so glad he not just said it, but lived it.  He was made to be a pastor to the world, since the church in his day didn't want him.  And while not all of us are called into ordained ministry, every single one of us was Created in Love, by Love, and for Love.  God created us with Intent.  Part of that intent is the transformation of the world through the stuff of who we are.

It is more than okay to give expression to the deepest passions and creative impulses in our soul.  It's more than okay to paint our lives on pavement.  It is more needed than we know.  Not only is this world is depending on it . . .

The world is waiting.

They're Baaaack!

 

It's been exactly two years since I found them, those insidious little creatures that suck the life right out of everything they touch.  Holy cow, they are disgusting!  I am speaking of course of bagworms.  Two years they showed up and wreaked havoc with our landscaping, but brought some powerful insights along with it.   I was thinking the other day how nice our evergreen bushes look in front of our house.  They have grown lush and big.  They are a vibrant, deep green.  They look beautiful. 

A far cry from how they looked a couple of years ago.  Bagworms had invaded one of our bushes and left a hole where green was supposed to be.  It seemed like every day that summer I was finding new cocoons, trying to pull all of them off before permanent damage could be done.  I discovered in my perusal of the internet that one of the best remedies to apply was soapy water.  Each pinching session ended with a good spray-down of water and dish detergent.  Persistence paid off;  eventually they were gone.

And then the other day I noticed it.  One isolated cocoon growing on our otherwise beautiful bush.  I began a careful perusal of the whole thing.  Sure enough, back where no one could see, there was a whole nest of them, camouflaged in the very foliage they are destroying.  Let's just say I set to work once more!

The last infestation we had was more in your face.  The attack was right out front, hard to miss.  This one was hidden, tucked away behind the lush beauty of outward health.  It snuck up on us.  Both times speak to me of the spiritual battle we fight everyday. 

Two years ago I was learning to let go of a ministry God had miraculously placed in my lap, and just as suddenly led me away from.  In the grief and pain of learning to let go, the temptation to retreat into bitterness and despair was real.  In my face real.  Each day I had to choose God.  Sometimes it was about each minute:  what am I going to do in this minute?  Am I going to trust Him or not?

In some ways, temptation in the hard times is easier to recognize.  It is expected, easy to spot.  And in that sense, easier to fight. Yet in this season of my life, it is subtle, more hidden.  Harder to place and name.

What name does temptation go by when the biggest prayers of your heart have been answered?

I have been praying for God to do something amazing in my husband's life for years, to give him his heart's desire, to open a door for him where he could use his gifts, where he could experience joy and fulfillment.  And God has answered those prayers in amazing ways.  After years and years of praying God has been faithful, and answered in a way only He could. 

I am deeply grateful.  And so blessed that I got to participate in the unfolding wonder of God's work in Tim's life.  I got a front row seat to the miracle and was allowed by God's goodness to pray it through from beginning to end with every part of me.

In the lushness of this summer of answered prayer it is easy to lose sight of the rhythm of Grace.  Routines are topsy-turvy.  I am surrounded by little boys so much of the time.  When I am not, I have a hard time getting myself to the quiet place.  It is much more of a challenge to hear the Divine Whisper.  It would be so easy to glide through on the beauty of what God is doing in my husband's life and think that is enough.  I forget I still need God more than I need His long awaited answers to my prayers.

And this is the heart of the temptation I face now, when everything is looking up and our hopes are being realized.  The enemy would have me be complacent.  The enemy would sneak in and suck the life right out of me, wrapped in the very goodness of this new life God has given.  The truth is that the unsettledness within me is a gift.  The nagging feeling that I'm missing something is the beacon that gets me looking for God's Hand and Heart.  It points me to my true home.  Because my true home has more to do with the Word my Shepherd speaks to my heart each day than it does with the Word that has already been fulfilled. 

Just like I discovered the first time I faced this enemy, I have to be washed in the Word each day.  Once isn't enough.  Even in good times God's Holy Word in my life is like breath in my lungs.  Without it, even when the sun is shining and all the birds are singing, something in me dies.  I can't stand to be dead!  I want to be alive with every fiber of my being!

Because there is something in me that believes God isn't finished with me yet.  Even though we have had an amazing journey, something in me insists that it is far from over.  But I will never recognize the new road if I fail to listen to the new Word God is saying to me. 

And I feel like traveling on.

To see where this journey began, you may enjoy reading "Washed with the Word,"  from July 9, 2011.

Living the Dream

I didn't intend to be a runner.

And I'm not sure if an outsider would look at me and say, "yeah, she's a runner." 

Many runners have that svelt look, where muscles are etched out beneath skin stretched tightly across, revealing the architecture of a beautifully chiseled body.  That is not me.  I may run regularly, but I don't eat the way that gets that look going.  And I was tempted this swimsuit season to get a two piece.  But after trying a few on I found that rarely do they cover vertical C-section scars.  Mostly I run because it is prayer, it is joy, it is therapy, it is the thing that connects me in a positive way to the body I've always struggled with.

But it wasn't until yesterday that I understood the gift this running thing has become.

I started running about the time my husband and I started trying to have children.  The road to motherhood has been hard.  It did not happen for us the way we thought it would.  It took years to finally get pregnant.  Once we were able to have kids, the timing of it all put me in the A.M.A. club:  advanced maternal age.  I remember having a conversation with my husband about running when our children were very small.  I remember saying that I wanted to be physically active enough to enjoy my children, to be able to keep up with them as they got older.  I didn't want my age to keep me from living fully into their lives, sharing it the way I longed to do.

We had that conversation years ago.  I had forgotten about it.

Until yesterday.

Yesterday I woke to a body that decided a walking workout on the treadmill might be better than a run.  Because the whole day before I spent in the gym playing with my kids.  With Noah, my oldest, I played basketball, trying like crazy to make baskets, trying to keep him from doing the same.  My shot isn't as good as his, but I put up a pretty good defense.  Isaiah wanted me to run with him.  We ran around the gym's upstairs track.  He is fast.  But he's not used to running long distances.  Eventually we were able to run side by side, my endurance keeping me close enough to him so that we could experience running--together.  And my littlest boy, he just wants to kick a ball together.  Which translates:  I kick it to him; he kicks it in a different direction that sends me racing to stop it so it doesn't wind up in a teenager's pickup game. 

Here's the thing:  in all that activity, I was able to stay right with my boys.

Yesterday I realized that a years ago prayer had been answered.

The temptation is to take it all for granted.

When we send the prayers up, I have noticed that over time we tend to forget the prayers we pray.  It is Heaven's mercy, because sometimes the answers take a while to come.  Yet when the answer to a long held prayer comes, we can't help but feel joyful.  As I was running this morning I kept pondering these glorious answers to my running prayers, remembering lyrics to the Disney song:  "A dream is a wish your heart makes . . ."  This dream has come true.  It is a beautiful, sweet dream, that must be savored in the moment, that must be lived with robust attention and gratitude.  Because these boys are fast, and who knows how long I will be able to keep up with them.  Who knows how long they will even want me to.

The temptation is to put these fulfilled dreams on hold while I focus on working other dreams.

There are other things I believe I was made for.  But I forget that the most important thing I was made for is the Grace of this present moment.  Once the moment is gone, the Grace for it is gone too.  I don't want to run past it chasing what will come next.  I so want to receive this Grace now.  In all of its dizzying fullness. 

The Frame Matters

Have you ever noticed the way a picture frame can change how you see the picture it holds?

 

I've noticed this.  Sometimes I'll think a picture has no hope.  There is no way I can display it because it just isn't fancy enough, or it just doesn't look right with the decor.

But then I will find the perfect frame, and all the pieces seem to fit.  What once looked out of place now looks right at home.

With the right frame, things work. I notice something that was always there, but had escaped my attention. With the right frame, that tense thing inside of me holding its breath relaxes, and every part of my being exhales a big "ahhhh."

Frames matter to pictures.  Our frame of mind, frame of heart, frame of spirit, matters more.



How we see the world changes the world we see.

It may not be what you want to hear, yet I have witnessed this truth in my own life and in the lives of others time and time again.

One of the most powerful times I have experienced this was during the last year I served my first church.  I was young, only three years out of seminary, serving a large congregation as associate pastor.  The church was in turmoil under the senior pastor's leadership.  Friendships I had cherished had been painfully interrupted.  Dreams of sailing through ordination had been deferred.  It was a time of brokenness, pungent with pain and disappointment. 

During that season I was also fulfilling a contingency for ordination, seeing a counselor.  With all the upheaval going on, this requirement became more of a blessing.  I began to see how years of unresolved heartache were coloring my present perceptions.  As I found the courage to release the pain of the past, my present found new meaning.  I remember sharing with my counselor that I felt like the sun was rising on a new morning in my life.

That perception was a gift from God. 

I'm so thankful for it.  I'm so thankful for the Grace He gave to see that specific time period His way.  The truth was that in those desperate, lonely times, He was preparing me for a new life, a new ministry, new Hope that my physical eyes could not yet see, but my spiritual eyes were beginning to perceive.  I could have ignored, denied, discounted, or in all other sorts of ways deminished the truth God was showing me about the life I was living.  And in doing that I could have missed the opportunity born from the ashes of an old dream dying.

It is a hard truth to hear sometimes.  Because the world we live in is not always hospitable.  Because sometimes the days are dark.  Sometimes everything within us wants to run away and hide.  But I know that the only perspective we need is the only one that really matters:  Heaven's. 

I have seen persons who have suffered immeasurably have the faith to trust God in true ugliness.  Circumstances that take the breath away.  Their faith, their decision to act as if God is everything He says He is, made a difference in the outcome of their circumstances.  In the face of tragic loss, unspeakable abuse, I have seen these courageous persons not allow their feelings to rule their hearts.  Instead they have allowed God's tender grace space to live within their hearts, regardless of how ragged or broken they were.  These souls are my heroes.  They inspire me to hold on.  They challenge me to not allow the details of my circumstances to blind me to the Presence of Grace surrounding me.

This is the frame we most need:  the one that holds unswervingly to Truth, that seeks it at all costs, and believes it beyond the feeling of the moment.  This is the frame that changes the picture we see.

Making Summer Beautiful

 

Phineas and Ferb's song is playing in my heart and mind:

 

"It's summer, and where do I begin?"

 

I'm afraid I will spend so much time trying to answer the question that summer will slip through my hands, and I will be left with emptiness where I longed to have joy-filled memories.

 

I want to write my summer story with beauty, full of grace, laughter, fun.  I want to make memories that will etch themselves into my children's minds, recalled twenty years from now around the gathered family table as "remember that summer that we . . . ."

 

Oh I want them to remember. 

 

And I want this time to be filled with things worth remembering.

 

Maybe this figuring out the summer doesn't have to be all that complicated.  Maybe I don't need to be a crazy fanatic mom that schedules every moment.  Maybe I can keep it simple.  Maybe I can have a plan that's attainable, that doesn't get in the way of actually doing something worthwhile.  Maybe that can be my plan--every day do something worthwhile.

 

Maybe it's as simple as being available to the worthwhile thing that knocks on my door.

 

Last weekend my neighbor rang the doorbell with this package of crayola sidewalk paint in her hands.  She said she was cleaning things out in her house and thought the boys might be interested in having it.  We agreed.

 

 

Monday afternoon we set to work.  Jeremiah and Isaiah joined me outside.  We dipped and poured and dabbled.  We created.  I have to admit, it was fun for me too.  What I discovered was that the best pictures were made as we worked together. 

 

 

 I made the outlines.  Butterfly, check.  Cross, check.

 

The boys filled in the pictures, using their imaginations to bring sketches to life.

 

 

 

Isaiah thought the pictures needed to be connected.  He used his brush to connect them.  I love how Jeremiah's blue doodles on the pink and yellow cross looks like a flower. Surprises everywhere.

 

When Isaiah got to the cross, he decided to make another one, so that the first one wouldn't feel alone.

What I learned is that it's not so important what we do this summer, as long as we do it together, making sure I leave room for those boys to teach me, as much as I want to imprint a life worth living on them.

Maybe the imprint that matters most of all is seeing the moments we share as gift, enjoying each one:  entering into the Joy of the One who gives them all.