Listening to the Savior's Heartbeat

“There was reclining on Jesus' breast one of His disciples, whom Jesus loved.” 

(John 13:23 NASB)

The disciple John, a young fisherman from Judea, made a life-changing decision when he decided to follow Jesus. He partnered with his brother James in this endeavor – forsaking his past, to strike out upon a new path – a path of trust, a journey of love, a discovery of redemption, peace and forgiveness. His young heart was eager and teachable, his spirit open to God, his heart willing to grow and serve.

As his journey progressed as a follower of the Rabbi, he listened, he questioned, he learned, he prepared and he remained faithful to the calling he had received from his Messiah.

John was known as the “Evangelist” and appropriately so as his life exhibited a commitment to learning, compassion for others and an intimacy with his Savior. He heard his Savior's heartbeat. He reclined at table with him during the Last Supper, and he never forgot the lessons he learned. He received free evangelism training from the Master Teacher Himself and then in turn shared that training with others through example and writings. His teachable heart became a leader's heart.

Now, two centuries later, we have his letters and writings, life-breathed from the Master Teacher to an eager young student-- “the one whom Jesus loved.” Inspired of God, the Gospel of John is alive with the story of God's redemptive work through His one and only Son, Jesus Christ. Today, these writings have the power to lead new believers down the same dusty roads that John and Jesus traveled together, experiencing life together, and spreading the good news through evangelism.

“If you abide in My word, then you are truly disciples of Mine; and you shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.” (John 8:31b-32 NASB)

Since 1893, The Pocket Testament League has been sharing John's Gospel and New Testaments to those in need thus spreading the good news to a hurting world. Helen Cadbury, it's founder said: “If only we could get people to read the Book for themselves it will surely lead them to Christ.”

Her vision lives on today through the vast outreach of The Pocket Testament League which inspires believers to listen to their Savior's heartbeat, to abide in His word, and to share that Word with passion and authenticity. The League equips believers with countless evangelism tools and educational materials to support this goal such as pocket versions of the Gospel of John, children's resources, training programs, daily devotionals, Bible studies, and website banners. All meant to equip Christ followers with the power of Jesus' word to heal, to encourage, to strengthen and to lead a hurting world into the saving grace of God's redemption plan.

From a Savior's heartbeat . . . to John's heart . . . to yours.  

Breathing - It's an Exercise in Trust

Ever feel like you just can’t breathe? 

 

Whether it’s the stifling heat of the summer, an over-exhaustive workout, or the stifling heat of your heart bursting into flames, it’s not a good feeling.  I’ve never had asthma or allergies, but I imagine it’s the same feeling at least to some degree.  There is this heavy, suffocating feeling bearing down upon your heart and there is no working through it – just wondering how and if the pressure building up inside your lungs and heart will ever release or get better.  It’s something like the flight mechanism that frightened deer and horses exhibit when a predator is on the hunt.

 

So where does my breath come from?  The breath of life, that mysterious exchange of oxygen within my lungs that somehow keeps it all going?  And, where does that awful weight come from that seems to act like a stifling steel weight upon my heart?

 

It's definitely a dilemma I now face, and while I know the source of my breath, it's a struggle to take in those deep, deep, life-giving and life-refreshing breaths, isn't it?  Instead, it's much easier to let those weights bear down on my heart and let them torture my soul.

 

But, then once again, something, ever so slight, came into view.

 

A glimmer of God.

 

A life-giving word.

 

"God's spirit is as close as your very next breath."

 

And where from?  Facebook of all places. 

 

And a very gifted teacher - John Parsons of www.hebrews4christians.com

 

A verse from this week's Torah (Korach) reveals another great Name of God: Elohei ha-ruchot lekhol basar (אֱלהֵי הָרוּחת לְכָל־בָּשָׂר), which can be translated "the God of the breath of all flesh" (Num. 16:22). The LORD is the Source of your breath, the One who exhales to you nishmat chayim (נִשְׁמַת חַיִּים), the "breath of life" that enables you to live (Job 12:10). The sages use the analogy of... a glassblower who creates a glass vessel. Just as the glassblower blows into a tube to form a vessel from molten glass, so the breath (i.e., neshamah: נְשָׁמָה) that comes from the LORD functions as spirit (i.e., ruach: רוּחַ) that forms the human soul (i.e., nefesh: נֶפֶשׁ). Note that the Name YHVH (יהוה) first appears in this connection (Gen. 2:7), a Name that means "God is Present" (Exod. 3:14) and "God is Mercy" (Exod. 34:6-7). Note also that each letter of the Name YHVH represents a vowel sound (i.e., breath), suggesting that God's Spirit is as close as your very next breath. Like the wind that cannot be seen, so is the spirit the essential part of your identity. Yeshua breathed on his followers and said, "Receive the Holy Spirit" (John 20:22). (from hebrews4christians.com)

 

 

Dead, desperate and defeated in the desert

Unfortunately, it's been a very long time since I've had the gumption to get creative in any shape or form.  It's got a lot to do with depression, lack of inspiration, and downright depression.  Did I mention depression? 

Don't worry - I kind of use that word in an ethereal sense, not a true psychiatric sense. Don't send in the "white coats" just yet.   Been feeling lost as of late - lonely and alone.

Defeated.  - 52 weeks of writing isn't going well - victory is always just beyond the grasp of my straining fingertips and my feeble thoughts.

I think that's the way it is for many of us.  Isn't it?  I hope I'm not alone, though I feel alone.  Grasping, straining, clawing my way somewhere - anywhere - and nowhere at the same time.

Sometimes, I really hate clicking through the news on MSN or local news websites - more people shooting at one another for absolutely no reason, kidnappings, torture - and yet - there is an overwhelming, yet unspoken reason that many do not want to see - pride, selfishness, entitlement. That latest shooting in California visualized for all of us the perverseness of our world - our country.  A young man, who had what our world terms as "everything" yet he had nothing.  Nothing that really mattered, nothing of eternity. No true and perfect love.  Feelings of entitlement led to defeat, destruction, and ultimately death.  While many times, it may not be in the physical sense - it almost always will manifest as defeat, destruction and death in the spiritual realm.

I'm not here to judge a life, only the one true and living God can do that.  I observe, process and wonder.  Isn't that what this blog is about?  Wonder.  While it all began with discovering wonder in the beauty of creation around me, it has expanded to the discovery of wonder in a desperate soul, the wonder of a broken relationship, and that wonder that seems to escape definition and explanation. Wonder whispers on the breezes.  It calls my name and it paints the landscapes of my soul.

I love You Lord
But I want to love You more
I need You God
But I want to need You more

I'm lost without
Your creative spark in me
I'm dead inside
Unless Your resurrection sings

I'm desperate for a desperate heart
I'm reaching out, I'm reaching

All that I am is dry bones
Without You Lord, a desert soul
I am broken but running
Towards You God, You make me whole

You are exactly what we need
Only You can satisfy

Desert Soul by Rend Collective Experiment

Week 45: Hanging In There!

Consider it all joy, my brethren, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance.  And let endurance have its perfect result, so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing. (James 1:2-4)

Blessed is a man who perseveres under trial; for once he has been approved, he will receive the

crown of life 

which the Lord has promised to those who love Him. (James 1:12)

This captivating photo intrigues me.  How can such a huge tree survive and grow with all those exposed roots simply hanging there and stretched across a vast cavern?  Branches sprawl out like so many bony fingers grasping for life along the beach cliff.  It's twisted trunk mimics the human body in the throes of a long jump. Indeed it's been shaped and redesigned by its environment.  Redesigned by hardship - wind, rain, earth - yet . . .

I'm struck with the sheer raw beauty of this tree - so vulnerable, yet stronger than most to survive the harsh reality of its environment.  Survival . . . erosion . . . triumph over adversity.

I'd like to think that we can all endure, persevere like this beautiful tree.  Fraught with struggles, people and circumstances trying to thwart our progress, our purpose, our hope, our families, our very souls - too many times I feel like giving in or giving up.  Yet . . . this tree clings to life, even seeks life out and goes beyond reason and science to make a way. Am I making a way when there seems to be no way?

Strong roots yield a spectacular crown of life . . . lush greenery, vibrant life, an example to all to persevere, to cling to hope, to strive for joy!

Never give up.  Life is fragile.  Joy is constant.

The crown of life is promised to those who love Him and persevere.

Lest I Forget . . .

When I lose my way . . .

It's so easy to lose your way.  The darkness and night can be overwhelming sometimes. Distractions overcome.  It could be a stumble down a rocky path or a misstep, perhaps even someone who throws us off our true path--a foe, a friend or even a family member.  But many times, I'm my own worst enemy - forgetting who I am and who I belong to.  Have you ever experienced that?

I've heard this Jason Gray song over and over again on the radio and it just blended into the background noise of my car grinding down the road.  Then, all of a sudden this week, I heard something new - something meant for me.  Maybe meant for you, too?

Simple words -- deep meanings.
Powerful words -- powerful meaning.

In the mirror all I see is who I don't wanna be - Remind me who I am.
In the loneliest places - when I can't remember what grace is . . 
When I can't receive Your love - afraid I'll never be enough - Remind me who I am
When my heart is like a stone, and I'm running far from home - Remind me who I am

If I'm Your beloved, can You help me believe it

I needed a reminder - a way back - an encouragement.
'
In our feebleness, I don't think we want to be thought of as "beloved."  It's almost "too" good. Insecurities grip our hearts and make us think we don't deserve to be found; don't deserve the love. Yes, we don't deserve even grace.  Dare we hope for something so precious, so dear?

If I'm Your beloved, can You help me believe it.
Tell me, once again who I am to You, who I am to You 
Tell me, lest I forget Who I am to You, that I belong to You, to You


Thanks Jason Gray for this wonderful reminder.  Lest I forget . . .

Winter's Cleanse

I can barely remember a winter like this one - for many it's been tough, cold, and challenging.  It's never easy shoveling snow, slipping and sliding on sidewalks and parking lots, or bundling up to brave the frigid temperatures. Fighting flu symptoms and head colds.  Our family has had our own challenges of trying to get by this winter.  Something went amiss with our well so we have had to carry water buckets up to the barn--trudging through the deep, deep snow.  We just haven't had the money to get it fixed and our electricity bills are staring us in the face--higher and higher they climb with no relief in sight.  Yes, it has been a challenging winter out on the prairie.  As we go up to the barn night after night, I try to remind myself as I tell Brinna that the pioneers so long ago had the same difficulties.  They, however, didn't have electric buckets for their horses or lights in their barns. At least we have those small comforts.

 

Despite all these things, I'm not one to normally complain about my circumstances.  Instead, I always try to seek after what I can learn through the circumstances or get a glimpse of God's work and wonder.  It's no different through this current snow storm.  I recently read another blog post from People of the Second Chance that spoke to the fact that snow covers up all the dirty things in life, but it's a false cover because the rotting leaves and dirt below, left over from the damp fall, are still there. Much like the rotting bits of sin in our lives, we can't cover it up with niceties and pretensions.  Only a thorough cleansing from the one true God can cleanse us from our sin.  What a marvelous thought - I'm still ruminating over that imagine of covering up my sin, wondering what sin I'm trying to cover up with my positive attitude or my smiling exterior.

I LOVE snow - even struggling through this overwhelming Snowmagedon of 2014, I still LOVE it.  It's beauty, it's purity, it's silent majesty all enchant me.  It covers our world with a chill - a frosty and creative reminder of the One True Artist we serve.

“As the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, so is my word that goes out from my mouth; it will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.” (Isaiah 55:10-11 NIV)

Two are better than one . . .

The following passage from Ecclesiastes 4:9-12 was chosen by my husband and I some 32 years ago to represent how we felt about our life together. My husband designed the cover for our wedding program featuring a cross and the three strands of rope representing our eternal bond with each other and God.

"Two are better than one because they have a good return for their labor. For if either of them falls, the one will lift up his companion. But woe to the one who falls when there is not another to lift him up. Furthermore, if two lie down together they keep warm, but how can one be warm alone? And if one can overpower him who is alone, two can resist him. A cord of three strands is not quickly torn apart."

As I made my usual late night trek back from the horse barn, crunching in the snow and slip sliding around, I was reminded of many scenes of two romping through the prairie snow, slipping and sliding, falling, and tumbling, I thought of this passage and the importance of lifting one another up. We all slip and slide around, sometimes falling on our faces. But, what if we fall and there is no one to pick us up, to bandage our wounds, to carry us inside to the warmth of a fire? What if?

"The steps of a man are established by the Lord; And He delights in his way. When he falls, he shall not be hurled headlong; because the Lord is the One who holds his hand." Ps. 37:23, 24

For, it is better that we go through life with a companion—someone to lift us up when we fall, someone to work alongside us in faith, someone to keep us warm, and someone to strengthen us, someone to encourage and love us. Two are better than one because they have a good return for their labor.

I'm reminded of the following quote from the movie Shall We Dance:

“We need a witness to our lives. There's a billion people on the planet, what does any one life really mean? But in a marriage, you're promising to care about everything. The good things, the bad things, the terrible things, the mundane things, all of it, all of the time, every day. You're saying 'Your life will not go unnoticed because I will notice it. Your life will not go unwitnessed because I will be your witness.'"

While I don't agree with minimizing the value of one life, this quote does convey the importance of caring for another individual and the importance of keeping a promise to another human being—being faithful and being there through the good times as well as the bad – every day, all the time, even when it hurts.

What if we have no one to lift us up? God designed us to share life together—to be there for another. We need one another's love and care so desperately, especially in this mixed-up and crazy world. Don't let another day go by without being there for someone, without opening yourself up to the possibility of companionship—mutual respect, honor and love. And, be an example of respect and honor to someone whom God has brought into your life.

Be the heart.

Walls That Divide--Ties That Bind

Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brothers to dwell together in unity! (Psalms 133:1)

The walls that divide Christianity are numerous—sharp bricks and weighty stones of doctrine which too frequently we use to build walls of separation or cast at one another in ignorance, fear or selfishness; and yes, even hatred. Jesus rebuked the scribes and Pharisees who sought to persecute an adulterous woman by saying “He who is without sin among you, let him be the first to throw a stone at her.” (John 8:7 NASB) He went one step further than most of us would by saying, “Neither do I condemn you; go your way. From now on sin no more.” (John 8:11)

Our Heavenly Father does not condone our sins, neither does he condemn us for our failures. Yet, how many stony words of condemnation do we throw at those of differing faiths instead of practicing godliness and sharing gentle expressions of compassion, tolerance, and understanding? It's a thought-provoking, teeth-clenching question for most of us. Recognizing the ties that bind us together as a unified community of believers is critical to help us move beyond our prejudices.

While not a staple in many Christian denominations, the Apostles Creed still provides a singular doctrine of faith which calls us to unity. While historians have researched its origins for centuries, most experts believe the creed dates to the first century – at least in some form, superseding nearly all of the modern-day churches, except the Catholic Church from whence it has its origins. The message of the creed is plain, simple, yet profound. It describes the trinity; the deity of Jesus Christ, His miraculous birth and resurrection; as well as the promise of eternal life.

I believe in God, the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth.

And in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord, who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died and was buried. He ascended into heaven and sits at the right hand of God, the Father Almighty. From thence He will come to judge the living and the dead.

I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy catholic church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting.

Amen.

As children of God, do we truly believe in the communion of saints? The word “communion” infers we are in accord with other believers; that we have a deep fellowship, togetherness, union.

However, an intimate examination of our hearts reveals discord—deep-seated prejudices and long-standing fears of those within the body of Christ who adhere to differing belief systems. Needless to say, the body of Christ is not truly “in communion;” instead, it is fractured and broken.

Decades after his passing, the words of Martin Luther King still challenge us to live as one people in communion. His words speak to us, not only of racial unit, but of harmony among all brothers and sisters in Christ.

“When we allow freedom to ring—when we let it right from every city and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children—black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual “Free at Last, Great God A-mighty, we are free at last.”

Seeds of divisiveness and prejudice have been planted over centuries. Let us now uproot those obnoxious and prolific weeds and plant seeds of forgiveness and God's grace. Paul exhorted the Philippians to “be of the same mind, maintaining the same love, united in spirit, intent on one purpose.” (Phil. 2:2)

These are the ties that bind us together: the holy scriptures, God's merciful grace, and our common faith in one God, one Savior, Jesus Christ, and the power of His resurrection to save our searching souls.

"I, therefore, the prisoner of the Lord entreat you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling with which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, showing forbearance to one another in love, being diligent to preserve the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit, just as also you were called in one hope of your calling; one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all who is over all and through all and in all." (Eph. 4:1-6)

Walk in a worthy manner – Preserve the unity – Remember your calling.

One hope – One Lord – One faith – One baptism – One God and Father of All.

52 Weeks of Writing--A Challenge for 2014

Looking Forward~

Around the first of every year, I think every pastor or priest I've ever known feels obligated to challenge his flock to set goals, to look at life in a new way, to start afresh for the coming annum. To make plans and keep them. Those sermons never cease to surprise me. While you'd think, who could ever say something new? How could I be challenged once again? What could I possibly learn? Yet . . .

Every year, I seem to hear life from a new perspective. I collect courage and hope as new companions along the journey. This year, however, was even more surprising for something special was heralded from the pulpit--and it wasn't only Pastor Pat's soothing, familiar voice--it was the voice of a caring Father. A Father who wanted me to know that what I had been hearing in my head for months on end was indeed His voice.

"O taste and see that the Lord is good . . . " - a simple phrase reverberating in my head and heart for oh so very long. But, what does it mean?

As usual with God's word, there are a multitude of meanings behind and within. Sometimes my mind wants to explode--wondering, analyzing. God's word is the breath of heaven--it breathes and heaves and declares and commands. Yet . . . all I need do is listen and rest and (that awful word) wait. Seems I've been doing a lot of that lately (years now actually).

So I'm sure you're wondering now, what did I take away from that December 29, 2013 sermon. Well, before the sermon even really started in earnest, here is what I wrote:

52 weeks of writings

Taste and see that the Lord is good

What verse did Pastor Pat share several minutes into his sermon? Yep, you guessed it: Psalms 34:8 O taste and see that the Lord is good; How blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him.

Personally, I don't like New Year's resolutions. They are trite, full of themselves, and under normal circumstances highly unattainable. Oh, and did I mention frustrating and downright demeaning?

Now that I've gotten that out of my system, I believe it's time to succumb to the triteness and get on with something that really matters. Writing. At least that's what matters to me and I believe deep down it's what matters to God because it is His gift behind and within. As Pastor Pat said, "we cannot change ourselves; only God can change us to the degree that we are willing to submit to Him." What will you do with your gift? Will you submit or succumb? Taste and see . . .

Aloneness

Frazzled, frayed, spiked points of uncertainty.

Standing out amidst the green jumble of prairie plant life, solitary against smooth life-filled leaves.

How have I been found in such dryness? Scratchy stems, withered from a barren life.

Inverted – upside down - opposite to the oasis in the middle of a desert - my life is much like this frayed pom-pom plant--dried out, solitary, yet somehow, surprisingly standing upright surrounded by the flowing river of prairie grasses. Yes, it's the dryness that creates this unbendable, sharp-edged spike.

Flexible, living, chlorophyll breathing round about, yet here I am withered, out-of-breath, desperately clinging to lifeless roots. Will the gardener come and, with one gentle tug, pull me from my fragility – making room for new growth and green life? Will he blow my wispy top knot, spreading seeds on the prairie wind?

I'm not so sure I have a chance this season. Will Spring be my salvation? Did the seeds find their destiny--their root? Like wild salmon fighting their way upriver, must I die so others will live? Is the prairie song the song of a Savior?

Aloneness . . . yet never really alone.

Ode to Poison Ivy

Ivy has been my constant companion these past several weeks. And, I'm sorry to say that despite the many times I try hard to avoid her, she pursues me like a true friend. She really gets under my skin – literally.

I've known Ivy for some twenty years now and she usually plans her visits in the heat of the summer when I'm most likely to sweat and swell. We meet in the cool of the forest while enjoying the prairie paths and then she follows me home. In her carefree, breezy manner, she also tags along with my little dachshunds, following them home, bringing an unseen presence into our lives. It's almost magical the way she appears and re-appears.

I'm amazed at my dear friend's stick-to-it-ness, her ability to love on me through my daily work schedule and then, oh how she keeps me company in the wee hours. When I'm having trouble sleeping, there she is spurring me on to more challenges.

My latest conversations with Ivy began about four weeks ago out on our little road that travels to the back pasture. I have to admit most of our discussionss are a bit one-sided with me ranting and raving while she demurely turns red before my eyes. The objective that Saturday was photo opportunities on the prairie. It was an enjoyable outing, winding my way through the prairie grasses, the trees, and all those little stands of jagged leaf green plants. Ivy followed right along, teasing me with her abrasive humor once we returned home.

Yes, that's my dear friend Ivy. I've come to respect her place in my life . . . and accept her annoying nuisances. She reminds me again and again that to be a friend we have to be vulnerable and willing to accept the good with the bad; the beautiful and the ugly. In sickness and in health . . . friendship, like a marriage, is about the coming together of two forgivers. Right?

Well, I don't think Ivy got that memo. While I'm willing to forgive her discretions, despite how tiresome they may be, I've heard no apology from her all these many years.

God is in the Details

Cicadias are deafening.

They seem to drown out the other evening noises. A tractor/mower, a weedeater, the rainbow colored power parachute guy who throttles by overhead nearly every night, the drone of I-70 several miles to the south, crunching gravel on the road, a barking dog in the distance.

As I sit alone on the patio, gazing out to the prairie hills, it's easy to appreciate the Monet glow of a pink sunset behind me and the early evening stillness.

This past week, leading up to the birthday day yesterday, I gave much thought to writing a blog for my birthday. But that would be a bit too much self-aggrandizement. I really don't like to be pretentious. It's not too cool, me thinks.

So instead, here I sit the day after pondering life on the prairie . . . and wondering really what is it all about. A cacophony of cicadas . . . burnt orange prairie grasses preparing for autumn . . .

. . .a beauty unappreciated by many . . . surprises every day if you look for them. And, that's the ultimate gift of the prairie . . . touching . . . seeing . . . feeling . . . movement, change, wonder. Much like life . . . we have to be open, we have to look for the wonder - seek opportunities to be amazed.

Details, details, details . . . they say God is in the details. And on the prairie . . . it is indeed evident.

August 3, 1918 - A Mother Remembered . . . and Much, Much More

Ninety-four years ago my mother was born in St. Louis--the only child to a couple (one Irish and another French/Austrian--both first generation Americans).

I remember her today, and as always, try to spend the day reflecting on who she was as a person, how her character impacted mine, and how she influenced me. Earlier this year, I wrote about her in memory of the day she died (March 16, 1998).

Today, however, as I reflect on that special relationship between mothers and daughters, I would be remiss in not mentioning the greatest blessing to my life--my three daughters. My mother and I were only daughters--only children. It's not easy being an "only." You grow up playing alone, make-believe games with imaginery friends. And, now, as an adult, with my parents both gone, I feel it even more--the aloneness of no siblings. On the flip side, it also makes you more independent.

Now as a 50-something mom, I can sit back and realize that there is no greater honor and privilege than knowing my three daughters. Because His plans are true, God placed them here on this earth at their perfect time in history - He created them each with special and unique qualities like no one else on this planet. Their laughter, their warm hearts, their beauty inside and out humbles me like no other.

Each one was created for a special purpose . . . and they can do nothing to disappoint me--ever. I am so proud of the beautiful women they are becoming.

And, despite my insane nature right now, my three daughters are treasures sent from heaven. They are shimmering gems--lighting up my darkness on this day when I remember my Mom and our short 38 years together. I so wish that my Mom was here to see her darling grandaughters and experience the joy I do each and every day knowing they share life with me.

Side note: At the grocery store tonight, I made an impulse buy in the frozen food aisle--Stouffer's Mac & Cheese. I think it was sub-conscious, but when I got home I realized that my Mom loved Stouffer's Mac & Cheese. After my Dad died, she didn't cook as much and it was something easy for her to prepare to share with Meghan & Aubrey when they came to visit. Cheers to Mom--Brinna, Ron & I indulged in this sinful, carbohydrate-drenched side dish tonight. Just sad that Meghan & Aubrey missed the pre-celebration.

Where Have All The Servants Gone?

"Do all things without grumbling or disputing; that you may prove yourselves to be blameless and innocent, children of God above reproach in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation, among whom you appear as lights in the world, . . . " (Phil. 2:14-15 NASB)

Three weeks since a hard crash into a rocky gravel driveway sent me into a comatose, dependent state of being. Not literally without consciousness, but figuratively it would seem.

It's been a state of grief - aloneness - and helplessness. And, it's also a wake-up call to the feelings I'm sure will surface when I'm 108 and can no longer feed myself or perhaps walk to the bathroom unassisted. It's a sobering thought - this growing older, tables turned topsy turvy.

One shining star, though, brought light and encouragement from a very unexpected place--one of my co-workers. This young man, born the year I graduated from high school, is a breath of fresh air in my workplace. In the two years I have known him, I have rarely seen him not grinning wide, full of exuberance for life. He's a former New Yorker from the Bronx with Midwestern ways it would seem.

His tattoed visage, rough language, and dubious past mask a servant heart that seems to know no bounds. He is a rare gem among the litter of this ugly world. And, while he's no church-goer, it doesn't matter because he lives the life of service. Paul writes in Philippians: "Do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit, but with humility of mind let each of you regard one another as more important than himself; do not merely look out for your own personal interests, but also for the interests of others." (Phil. 2: 3, 4 NASB) That is his mantra.

The Saturday after I broke my arm, this young man called our company owner to get my phone number so he could "check up on me." Our owner's wife called me as well and their two calls meant so much to me--concern, love, honor.

Just about every day or so I receive the privilege of watching him in action--serving customers, helping out in some way and he continues to make it a point to ask me how I'm feeling. He blesses my soul.

Have you blessed someone's soul today? Taken time to smile? Shared a story or your heart with someone? Said "thank you"? Offered assistance? All it takes is a few simple lines in a text message, a phone call, or simply a smile to brighten this world and be a light in someone's darkness. You CAN make all the difference.

Why not try it?

Pain of This Earth - Things Above

Yes, that is pain. I'm really tired of the pain and suffering of this life. Some days I just want to give up on everything and everyone. How did Jesus do it, dying, being tortured, and suffering for our petty sins and selfishness? He was the God-man, though. That's how. Then we, selfish humans that we are treat one another with little regard. We are so full of ourselves, our own pettyness, that we disregard the feelings of others. We shamefully think of our own pain, our own supposed suffering without seeing the pain of the Cross, the pain of our neighbor, our friends, our family.

I shake my head in disbelief at the lack of caring, the behavior that eats away at our very souls. Pain is a vast feeling of nothingness, an endless, mindless chasm of tears and suffering. Maybe pain is like hell only its right here on earth, every day surrounding us, engulfing us.

Like a fire – it consumes us – destroying the very fabric of our souls. Crackling, spitting, scorching flames that suck the oxygen from us leaving us breathless and stunned.

Yes, that is pain. A violent brush fire that destroys and then leaves us with nothingness. The aching, the internal hollow feeling that lingers is wretched.

That is indeed the pain I've been feeling for some time now. It's inexplicable--yet somehow so tangible I can feel it, see it, touch it, smell it.

I apologize to my readers for this foray into the deep darkness of the human soul, because I know it's somewhere many dare not venture. Some hide in silence, while others hide in shadows, hoping no one will see their pain. I hide here in words on a blog that very few read. So, it's safe to say that my pain will remain virtually undiscovered. And, do not worry over me because the writing is a way through the pain. And, beyond all this there is a higher hope, a confident clarity and a purposeful journey ever pulling me upward.

I find it is interesting that tonight ushered in a full moon – so appropriate with all its connotations of disaster, predators hunting the weak and werewolves baying. Despite all the pain and suffering in this world, both physical and psychological, there is one thing that remains – I AM. The beginning and the end; Alpha & Omega.

"Set your mind on the things above, not on the things that are on earth." (Colossians 3:2)

"And so, as those who have been chosen of God, holy and beloved, put on a heart of compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience; bearing with one another, and forgiving each other, whoever has a complaint against anyone; just as the Lord forgave you, so also should you. And beyond all these things put on love, which is the perfect bond of unity." Colossians 3:12-14

Our Little Wise Owl

July 1, 1992, 2:32 a.m. Overland Park, KS Humana Hospital

A little sprite of a girl was born this morning 20 years ago. From the very beginning, I knew this one would be very special. Many times, the second child lives in the shadow of the older and I believe she did for a time.

But her own personality came out early one - a determined spirit, but one that above all is sensitive, loving and caring.

I can remember many times her coming home from school with stories to tell of classmates who had been wronged by another. She would grieve over their pain - and it wasn't something she could let go of very easily. Such a testimony to her caring spirit - her empathetic nature. And, her sense of moral justice. Quite an unusual characteristic for one so young.

My husband and I had this crazy idea to try to choose Irish names for our kids and when the second one came along, we debated over several different names - landing on Aubrey Shannon. Now for those of you who may know, the name Aubrey is not Irish (oops). No - its roots are Germanic/French and it means "blond ruler" or "king of the elves." At the time, we didn't even really look at the meaning too closely - we just liked the name. The middle name was a bit easier - (like the River Shannon in Ireland). It's origins are Irish and the meaning is "little wise owl."

But those who know her best know her independence and determination shine forth. There are "deep waters" within Aubrey that are yet to be tapped and I look forward to watching her continue to grow and develop as she now enters her 20s.

From early on, we suspected chocolate would be a large part of her life. And, that has definitely proved itself out as we have experienced first hand her love of pastry and baking.

The last five years, Aubrey has immersed herself in what she loves best - the hard work and joy of baking and culinary arts. Her creativity blossomed in this endeavor because she flourishes when she can work with her hands and create something new. She loves to try new things and her newest endeavors with raw desserts has been a joy to watch and be a part of.

So, Happy Birthday, Daughter #2! I am so blessed and honored that God chose me to be your Mom for a short time on this earth. I'm so thankful that our Heavenly Father has known and will know you for an eternity. Love ya!

The Commitment Garden

The garden analogy is probably nothing new to my readers. However, Saturday as I was weeding out in the 96 degree summer heat, several truths hit me again over the head.

Several years ago, our family spent a long Mother's Day Sunday preparing a garden bed around our patio. We worked and worked to get that bed ready, sprayed, dug, and laid down the landscape fabric - confident it would do its job and there would be no more weeding. The next year, though, the weeds were rampant, making for a lot more back-breaking pulling and chopping to assure our beautiful new bushes and flowers had a chance to take root and grow again.

Years later the bushes are big, the flowers showy and we regularly enjoy visits from skittery little butterflies and zooming hummmingbirds. Was it worth all the effort? Is it still worth the effort each year to prepare the bed, trim the bushes, lay new mulch, pull the errant weeds?

It seems to me that the gardens we plant and nurture are much like the relationships God brings into our lives. Developing a God-designed relationship is hard work and to do it right requires a lot of effort. As broken people, we all have shortcomings, fears, struggles--those weeds that want to choke out the beautiful, the mercy, the grace.

Last Spring I put a lot of effort into a small flower bed in front of the house. However, I neglected some key elements and when I returned from a short trip the weeds had overtaken it. Sadly, I watched in dismay as all that work was ruined. If I had been faithful and weeded the moment I returned, things might have been different. I gave up too soon - I lacked endurance, faithfulness and commitment to my dear friends.

Looking back on those two different plantings, what made the difference? Last year's planting succumbed to the overwhelming heat and dryness, but I can't blame it all on the summer sun. Unfortunately, it was my lack of devotion and care that also contributed to the sad outcome. Yes, it takes work to grow a garden . . . it takes patience, love, and devotion to grow a relationship.

And, what about those instances where the other person is stumbling, weeds are growing up in their life. What do I do then? Do I have the faith not to give up on them even when they've given up on themselves? It's all about commitment - indeed family and faith. Much like the fruits of the spirit - a garden of relationship thrives through the Spirit. The herb garden is thriving through the heat. Why? Love and commitment.

It's a lot to take in - this garden life. Am I up for the challenge? Are you? I'm determined this year will be different. My herb garden is now flourishing; pretty flowers dot the front landscape . . . and the waters of life will sustain them, along with a little help from me. They've got a good start, but it's up to me to maintain our relationship, nurture it - persevere. Love believes all things. (I Corinthians 13:7)

To Whom It May Concern

To Whom It May Concern~

Five words we use when we really don't know to whom we're writing. A bit nonchalant. A trifle lackadasical. Noncommital really.

Tonight I was asked to write one of these letters so it got me thinking about the whole salutation thing and then it dawned on me that it's definitely a symptom of what our society has evolved into - unconcerned, lazy, and . . . well, you get the picture.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not sitting in judgment - it's just an observation from my miniscule brain cells. Sometimes, I've been told, I really think too much. Or, I think about some nonsensical things - blow them out of proportion. Probably like I'm doing tonight in this strange blog entry.

But I digress so back to the topic. Isn't it a shame that many times we don't know to whom to address a letter or an inquiry. Some mysterious person is hiding behind obscurity. It would seem that if we don't have a real name, we then become unsure if our request or inquiry will ever get heard.

I'm so glad the God of the universe isn't hiding in anonymity. I'm delighted that He has made Himself known to me. He is Yahweh - the Creator of the Universe. He's also Abba - Father. I can call him Father! I can address him by name and his mailing address is right here, right now--past, present & future. Alpha & Omega - Beginning & the End.

". . . and I will call on the name of the Lord, and the God who answers by fire, He is God." (I Kings 18:24b, NASB)

Thanks for enduring my bit of oddity this day. And, don't forget to call on His name. He's there--yesterday, today and forever! Amen.

"Say What? Who Me?"

"Yes, you!"

Giraffes are an interesting lot. This little guy's tongue is 18" long! He loves acacia leaves and he can eat 75 pounds of them in a day. And as you will see in a bit he really craves large Kansas weeds. He can drink up to 10 gallons of water in a day and has four stomachs much like our neighbor - the cow. He has a large, loving heart at two feet long and 25 pounds and it pumps about 16 gallons of blood every minute! He has the highest blood pressure of any mammal on earth and that wonderful heart beats 170 beats per minute. Amazing facts for the elegant giraffe. He is definitely one amazing creature. And learning all this now reaffirms what I experienced at the Topeka Zoo on Saturday.

It was a close encounter of the long-necked, curious kind. This little guy (if you can call him "little) entertained Brinna & I for quite some time. Watching his languid movements and his inquisitive, friendly ways was a real treat.

Watch & learn . . . persevere. Show a lot of heart. All the best things are within reach if we just have a little faith. Those expressive eyes - trusting - confident - steady. So full of faith and heart. Just another example of God's magnificent hand in every part of His creation.

If you want to read more about giraffes - I recommend the book Tall Blondes by Lynn Sherr - still in print and available on Amazon.com at http://www.amazon.com/Tall-Blondes-Book-About-Giraffes/dp/0836227697. They are truly amazing animals.

Prairie Striped Horse

Exploration on the prairie never seems to end. And wonders fill our hearts and minds.

I just wish I could have acted quickly enough, driving at 70 mph on I-70, to stop and capture this prairie oddity for all to see. All I can say is my youngest daughter and I were witnesses to a miracle - a sighting - far removed from the African velde. Just mid-way in the tallgrass prairie, half-way on our journey to Topeka, close to the geographical center of the U.S. - we spied a prairie striped horse on Saturday last.

Black and white, not gray or tan or prairie beige, no--simple black and white stripes topped with a bristle brush of black. The mysterious creature taunted us from its prairie pasture.

And, yes, you guessed it - a spry little zebra exploring the prairie. I wonder how he or she felt - far removed from its natural surroundings of a grassy African plain. Timid, shy, nearly hidden at the entrance gate to a sprawling ranch, this little guy seemed to be awaiting an opportunity for escapism.

Sometimes I feel a bit like that zebra - alone, different, uprooted from my home place and stranded in a foreign land.

We are but sojourners in this crazy land full of wonder. And, that's not a bad thing - it's just something to ponder - something to appreciate and savor - this aloneness, the uniqueness of my being here on the planet.

And so cheers to that prairie striped horse who is discovering new life on the prairie. So am I. :D