The Gift Of Words, The Gift of Self

Just when I was feeling all alone, God lifts me up to see that encamped all around me are others...Others with needs of their own and others who are willing to get a little dirty...

Most likely they see their simple actions and attitudes of care as nothing, but their prayers and kind words steady me for the ongoing battle.

God touches the hearts of people...people climb out of the wood work. Old friends, new friends all to bestow Grace. Simple words, words of blessing, words of concern; prayers for me.

Words wrapped as gifts and given at just the right time. I do NOT want to camp at lake pity party, but I make occasional stops there. It is a waste land. It profits me nothing...I read and read and read. I listen, I study, I write my way through the suffering, but the gifts that are given when we give ourselves to others is like nothing we can do for ourselves...

Lord help me to remember the gifts and shared strength..And Lord I beg of you to not let me pass up the opportunity to share words of life with others as you reveal the need!

Thank you all who have ever, or will in the future care about me and mine! You made all the difference in the world!

How To Handle What Is Broken...

Bones can break and Bones can be mended; X-ray's are taken to pinpoint the visible fracture, physical casts are applied, healing begins, and with time; restoration.

Often a season of healing can be restrictive, painful.

Emotional brokenness, you cannot put your hands on it, but you can feel the turmoil reach into your gut, unsettling.

The hands clutch the chest to support a broken heart, though the physical heart is whole.

We are all acquainted with the weight of fear and guilt. We labor under their load.

Emotions...We feel the unseen. 

The unseen sinews pulled out of place and disjointed. 

 If we could, we would, with finite hands, surgically remove painful emotions. 

Perhaps that is why they remain invisible. We would surely bleed to death trying to cut ourselves free.

Don't we run towards things that make us feel good, even unto sin and harm? Why as sure as we would cut out the bad emotions, we would undoubtedly gorge ourselves with the good ones unto sickness. 

Balance speaks of having a season for everything, of taking the good and easy from God's hand as well as the bad and hard He has allowed.

Emotions are temperature gauges; God given... 

They speak of order and disorder. They let us know when it is time to clean house and give thanks.

The x-ray of man's emotions are the lamp of his eye and his countenance. And like bones, they can be mended. They are mended by the word of God, time and the Holy Spirit. 

The word of God divides between soul and spirit..

Words unseen wrap themselves around and penetrate through the ungraspable. They comfort. They mend. 

It takes practice to apply truth...Practice takes time...

It takes intimate fellowship with God to endure the time.

It takes God in other's to encourage the seemingly unencouragable...

Everyone stretched... and hopefully matured...

Sufficient grace and available peace in the storm.

A day in the life...

I was afraid to get up this morning

afraid to spend the energy

I overdid it yesterday.

Funny what fear makes us do.

Yesterday I was afraid to wait...afraid to be patient and watch God reveal the right timing.

I rested early because my boys were getting out of school at noon...

Preparing myself to be the best for them.

Preparing to willingly give parts of me to them.

We talk, they tell me stories of their day.

We laugh, We remember.

They willingly, cheerfully help me prepare food in the kitchen.

Cheerful because we are enjoying one another.

Cheerful because they know they are giving to me;

They bless and fulfill, the bridge the gap of my deep deficit of energy.

They are my hands and feet.

Slowing down...Man comes home...

I have to ask...I hate having to ask...Just know

Can you? Will you?

PLEASE HELP?!

Here comes the fear...

More than I can do alone...you are slow and my energy is on a schedule...

three days, like it's an eternity...

Three days of missed opportunities and me pretending to wait patiently...

energy is on a declining schedule...

I need a few things.

I grab a trustworthy cheerful boy..I wink at him

he wants to help..

we go we two. Him with list in hand and a pen to mark off the collected.

We make haste. He is swift, smart and helpful.

Finished we head for home.

All is as we left it...boys not alone, but unattended

Boys bring in groceries. I put away. Man lifts me from the floor.

Quiet voice...strength fading...

Learner can barely learn, his own thoughts too loud..

I teach him anyway... How to make pancakes from the batter he made...

It takes time, it all takes time. Patience takes time.

I am running out of time.

I sit in closet to restore. I read, I pray, I praise.

I don't want to miss out, I want to share praise and gratitude with the boy that just made supper.

I come out...It is too soon...I make myself stay...

I give thanks and excuse myself..

Sickness, misery, fatigue, fear

it extends into the night, surprisingly well into the night.

It lasts longer than it should considering weakness.

Man puts on praise music for me so I won't fixate on pain.

He seemed glad to do it even though I woke him.

He works to keep his body as far from mine as possible. All movement and jostling is too much right now.

He offers to leave but I want him near. His snoring, even through my earplugs are signs of life...

the yucky sloshes it's way through my dreams...

I awake, afraid to get up,

afraid to spend an ounce of energy.

I don't want to that again.

My days are spent trying to prevent the crash.

I hear squabbling boys...my door is left open. I am afraid Man is gone.

Gone without ever hearing the kids need for presence.

Gone without taking my place in the kitchen.

I get up, make my way to the kitchen..

I speak harsh words to his back...He is on the computer...I tell him he is an infidel

An infidel; someone who does not acknowledge God.

I suppose I am one too, regularly.

It doesn't make me feel better, it wastes energy.

He makes breakfast under pressure.

I read a portion of scripture to the boys...Rainen finishes...

We pray. I apologize to them for dishonoring their father.

We are responsible for our reactions.

The Man and I talk later. I tell him I am sorry for the dishonor and that I apologized to boys.

Seventy times seven for us both..forgiving and asking forgiveness

I love him

I want to change him. NOT my job

I Want to change me. Can't...still not really my job...

God in me continues to work in me to Will and to Do His good.

I continue to participate in the process of being right with God and man.

Responding, not reacting.

Peace and tears.

Be anxious for nothing.

I am promised that peace, like a warrior will guard my heart and mind in Christ Jesus!

I need that.

I am wishing now that I would have just waited longer for the Man to help me get groceries.

Life is never good when I take it by the throat, try to speed it up.

Pruning...particular, peculiar mercies

The hard things...particular, peculiar mercies....


"In a sense sickness is a place, more instructive than a long trip to Europe, and its always a place where there is no company, where nobody can follow. Sickness before death is a very appropriate thing and I think those that don't have it miss one of God's mercies"

Flannery O'Conner

Prov 14:10 The heart knows its own bitterness (sorrow and grief), And a stranger does not share its joy.

There is a point of relating, that holds the sufferer in communion with His maker. A fellowship that cannot be known between finite beings. It is an intimacy that brings rest because He knows in detail our heights and our depths!

Yes, there is nothing new under the sun, no temptation common to man, but at some point only my creator can stand with me, know me, understand me, deal with me, prune me, make room for more life, and heal me. At the end of the day it is God with whom we have to do.

He alone has seen my depths, in fact He has seen them before me. He has been preparing the way all along. He prepares me for Joy too...gifts that He opens me up to receive. Gifts custom built for me.

He gives as no one could. He speaks the strange language that is me.

Here is an example of His love lessons and communion with me...Through sickness, through the hard.

particular, peculiar mercies....

The garden, my favorite thing about my home, is usually green and lush, reminding me that life and beauty burst forth even in the desert.

Lately, it is constantly on my mind; to prune away the frost damage.

Once green leaves, are now dried and lifeless. Many have dropped to the ground. Some hold their dead leaves tight unwilling to let go, to drop their wounds.

I don't want to prune to soon, leaving them totally naked to the elements.

One afternoon I start. It takes me several days, really ten minutes at a time is all the energy I have to spare. It is an important work. Lessons of life, death, and fruitfulness.

The job is far to big for hand held pruning shears. The damage done requires deep cuts.

I use Dad's hacking hedge trimmer. There is nothing gentle about it. The outer branches yield willingly as they are brittle and full of death. So much has to be taken away. I don't do it to be cruel. I do it because I remember them full of life and I want that again. I cut deep looking for signs of life.

The inner branches begin to wrestle with me. I sigh in relief. At its depth, signs of life, not willing to be broken hold on.

  We spend so much energy trying to keep alive that which belongs in the grave. It's what we know. It is uncomfortable to prune or be pruned, but it is for the Joy set before us that we endure.

The Vine dresser, the lover of my soul prunes away my own frost bitten brokenness.

He cuts away all that is weighing me down, all that prevents me from bearing a crisp clear image of Him. It is painful. It requires deep cuts. A lesser love wouldn't let me wear these momentary grave clothes.

A lesser love, would for personal pain sake, leave me full of death rather than prune me unto barrenness for a season.

God has a vision for fruitfulness for me and the journey through is bareness. I have lost much beauty. There appears to be no fruit.

BUT, there is hope based on facts...The facts of life... that life springs fourth from death....

I thank God with heavy heaving chest and outstretched arms. “Thank you for loving me enough.” More than enough! Enough to die yourself and enough to prune heavily all that is not in my best interest. You are trustworthy.

I keep wanting to get up from writing this...”Sit and write” is what I hear in my heart. A branch of distraction falls to the ground....

I want my own time...My personal time is invaded by a little boy. I choose to share my time, my lap...another branch cut...

branch by branch....multiple branches being sawed...eventual relief. His promised burden is light...lighter than imagined.

branches ever dropping, I call on my men to rake and gather the remnants of the past. We are making room for future life and beauty.

Today I opened my front door to breath air, and embrace blue sky...

My bougainvillea that once towered over me cropped...held within itself two birds...Already signs of life among the barren.

 

I am trusting for the same...

Giving Thanks For the Hard....

Is giving thanks possible without the hard things? Or is it really giving thanks at all? Are we really under submission when it is easy to obey and the course charted out for us is appealing and enjoyable?

I feel my deepest gratitude is born from opposition and grey clouds. Thankfulness costs.

For me, it costs my life, my perspective, my faith.

Being thankful for hard things and hard times is HARD!

I am required to step out into the darkness, the unknown, clinging to the FACT that though I cannot see the earth, when I lift and lower the foot, it will be there to support me. My Heavenly Father is my earth, the ground beneath my feet. He is there to support me.

Had I not been through my own pruning would the birds nesting in my newly pruned barren tree excite me? Life took up residence and found shelter amongst the brokenness. And through it I found joy inexpressible!

Could I enjoy His word had it not been such a necessity?

Could I be as thankful for the warmth of the sun pressing hard into me If I had never suffered with freezing temperatures?

Would I ever bend the knee to God's grace had I not known the devastating depth of my own capacity for sin?

Would I ever want to be tender towards the left out, the problematic, the rejected, had I not walked in their shoes?

Lord you are a safe place to sort through life. And I thank you for those you have given me that love me despite me, despite the mess, without judgement. They have had their fair share of cry baby messages. They have let me lean in... They have comforted...They remind my of your word, of you.

You love me through them...You tell me I am ok...I keep going....

He Teaches Me To Praise....A Lilly Among The Thorns....

   

                            

           

                    My eyes have seen the beauty

of the blessings of the Lord.

He is the lilly of the valley

Love among the thorns.

He binds up what is broken

and He calms the raging storm

He sings beauty over me!

                    Swift He is to tell me

of His tender aching side

He flowed of blood and water

He is calling to His bride

His body is my body

broken on a tree

His death gives life to me!

Hidden now in Jesus

I come boldly to the throne

Looking for my father, 

longing for my home, humbly at His feet,

I ask Him for a song

He teaches me to praise!

            

Ears To Hear...

How do we get to this place where green is no longer green and full of life but a dulling brown? It's like the slow change of seasons. We forget a little here, we stop practicing what we know there; The leaves are turning on the trees. Life happen's, sickness happen's; The leaves have dropped to the ground. It is cold now. The snow has covered up the things light revealed in brighter days; faith is required.

Faith brings to remembrance those things that were once tangible. Faith bids me to carry on. Faith tells me this life is a gift. A million times a day our creator has inclined Himself to us, to whisper endearing words of love. 


He is the sunrise, He is the midday steadiness, and He is the countless pin prick holes in a colorless sky. He reminds us we are not left to maneuver in utter darkness alone .

The flowers in my yard, the greenery in the dessert, the down pour when I am parched. He is there. If I find myself on the wings of the dawn, if I make my bed in the lowest places, He is there willing to lead me. He wills to lead me to see him in all these seasons of life. To see Him and to love Him more because I realize to the core of me I am not abandoned but loved by Him.

This gift of life and all the gifts that ride upon it's coat tails were meant for us, meant to show us beauty. We were meant to look into the bloom of a rose and find enjoyment. I need no miracle, no sign, God is before me. I breathe in His handiwork, His fragrance beckons from satin petals and I long for Him to be my life.

My son, a gift, very honestly tells me of his own longing. It pours fourth slowly from his own sorrows. “Mom, I want to die and go to heaven where I can hear.” He longs for his real home too. A body fit for heaven, where his ears will not be stopped up, where conversations will be crisp, and clear.

A place where the perpetual song is everlasting joy, full of grace. There will be no disconnect, no miscommunication, no impatience.

My heart aches for him. I feel helpless to fix what is broken. In an instant I have a choice to make. I always do have this choice. The choice to embrace circumstance and spiral down in believable lies or the choice to embrace the truth of God, whose loving kindness is over all His works. God was calling me to arms, to take courage, while I was afraid, so I could bestow courage on my son.

God uses my children to train my heart to be more brave than I am. For their sake, and really, for my sake too.

We momentarily linger in our dream of what heaven will be like. We sigh and smile. We have hope. We return to the present reality and recognize our weakness as an opportunity for dependance. 


 God alone is equipped and has equipped His children to walk through the fire and not come out smelling like a victim.

It's not the dying we are afraid of. Our end is secured. The fear is to wander through this life wearing grave clothes. Joyless, unable to hear God. This is a deafness that cannot be tolerated. It is the deafness that can't hear the voice of God as a personal love song. It is the deafness that will not take responsibility for sin. It is the deafness that cannot hear the cry of the oppressed, It is the deafness that cannot hear God in the mundane, broken and pitiful moments of life. This kind of deafness is death to a soul. We have all set up camp here. Even as believer's!

Our senses, particularly our ears, eye's, and heart are instruments of Grace God has given us to receive Him. They are our modes of reception. To be deaf to our maker is to wither at the depth of our soul.

Oh Lord, For my Family,

Apply your healing touch to our ears. Let us be open to hearing your goodness and taking it to heart. Unveil our eye's that we would exchange the misshapen and bent views we have for images of your splendor. We resign ourselves to you and beg that you would teach us how to let the life you have given us, through your Son, be our life. That your joy WOULD become our strength and our joy.

Apply your earth to our eyes that we would see. Open our ears to your voice a little more each day on this journey with you. Tune our hearts to sing your praise. Unleash our tongues to proclaim liberty and life abundant here and now!

Celebrating unexpected joys in unexpected places...Places we wouldn't choose for ourselves, but where God is most brilliant. Where we hear Him and see Him in living color.