New Beginnings

"Behold I will make ALL things new..." Jesus

In the depths of the winter...all is quiet. All is dormant...all is seemingly dead. We speak almost in hushed tones as we journey through it, knowing.

What is it that is happening in under the drifts of snow, and the freezing temperatures? All outward show of life is gone... Some of us are in the winters of our lives. All the green and vibrant life of Spring and Summer have passed away, we are left with deep browns and grays, chilly winds, and heavy weight of snow.

Will we survive it we ask? Will Spring truly come again?....We doubt, we wonder...we anguish.

And yet there is beauty in the dying, because we know...we know in the depths of our being that the dying is only the prerequisite to living! Oh how I ache to live!

As these last days of 2008 draw to a close, I am tucking away all that these months have held. The lessons, the pain, the refinement, the betrayals. I am forever changed by it all. I wouldn't change any of the struggle that my family has endured this year...because I know that in the death to so many things...life is waiting to spring up from somewhere beyond it. I tenderly reminisce over the joys, the laughter, the memories of so many precious and wonderful gifts woven graciously throughout the pain. What blessing!

I ponder the whole advent season that we have just finished...glorious yes. But I know that God intentionally obscured His "coming"....and He purposed it to be very small and almost hidden...for it wasn't the coming, or the birth that He desires us to lay hold of. He came not in pomp and circumstance to show His glory and be hailed as deliverer. Instead, He came....to die. And the glorious, and truly significant part that He beckons us to remember is that He did not evade death....He defeated death.

He went there. He endured the shame and pain of being betrayed by those who professed loudly and wholly their love for him. It's why he came. He walked through an unfair and circus of a trial...resulting in horrible mockery and merciless beating. It's why He came.

Finally, He willingly and knowingly submitted to agonizing and final death on a cross meant for a criminal. It's why He came.

Those who professed their love so ardently, were no where to be found. They had betrayed Him and hung Him out to dry. The only ones who faithfully stayed the course with Him...were His dear mother and a couple of His truest and most intimate friends. That's all. No throng of supporters, no family, no other "friends".... No, those "loved ones" had fed Him to the wolves. They participated in his crucifixion. But then again, it's why He came.

And as the darkness of the cave enveloped His body, as the depths of His "winter" fully settled over him... the sting was gone. Death had occurred...as agonizing, and unfair, and tormenting as it was....it was why He came. But the sting of death itself was gone.

He came to die. And yet.....He came, so that He could be resurrected out of death. And while it was a necessary part...the death was only a means to an end.

Hope springs up in my heart! The death that has been so agonizing in my heart, is only serving another purpose. It is ONLY a means to an end.

The end is Life.

I am reminded of the words of Jesus, "I came that you might have life and have it to the fullest."

Could it be that fullness is what awaits this dark, cold, lifeless winter?

I feel it. My soul trembles at the realization.

And so I pack away these last remnants of 2008, and I let them have their death.

It is indeed the season of new beginnings...not because I have resolved it to be so. No amount of goal setting or resolutions will achieve what my soul longs for.

But the Giver of Life does. And He does it well.

Thankfully, He doesn't "recycle" or "reinvent" the old....sprucing it up and doing a heavenly patch job on our lives.

No ......the death happens, the absolute end is necessary.

Then from the whispers of my very Spirit....come his words,

"Behold I make all things NEW"!

I wait, and I know.....these last days of winter are lingering....but my soul knows, and it beckons me...

"Be still....and KNOW."

Delicious Days of Joy

These days are filled with such joy! A special packaged arrived from our beloved grandmomma who lives tucked away in the mountains of Colorado! Our hearts long for her, miss her desperately! The package was not intended for Christmas, it was sent just because I love you! Inside were some new chef's outfits...in the perfect "signature" colors of my girls. Emily...always my "purple girl" as we call her....shrieked excitedly as she donned her apron and her chef's hat! Reaghan, always my pink princess...found hers and also tied it on, pausing a moment to pose in front of the mirror to examine just how adorable she must look! I smiled, grabbed my camera and of course seized the moment for capturing some sweet memories! How is it that grandmomma's know just what will ignite the hearts of their babies? She knows them sooooo well!!

Tender memories began to fill my mind....myself a tiny girl with long brown hair, pulling up a chair next to my momma in the kitchen! She had carefully found and woven together a set of recipes that would bless her own family, and unknowingly be handed down to generations after her! We would gather the bowls, the ingredients, and work together in the kitchen creating these delectable cookies and treats together. Her careful instruction, her sweet patience with my childish attempts at cookie making. I smile. Memories of a kitchen filled with the fragrance...of cookies, but mostly of love. Love that has blossomed into a beautiful friendship!

I look around my own modest kitchen. My girls delighting in their spoons, bowls, and myriads of cookie ingredients! So with tender heart I pull down a couple of the recipes passed down from my own momma. I read them over to my girls...telling them of my own memories of these exact recipes. And we embark on our own cookie making day! Laughter fills the room, tiny voices chattering with joy over kitchen tasks...memories flood in. Measuring, Mixing, Creating....and of course the stolen nibbles here and there! I am grateful today, for my momma....for her love...for her legacy! I see a little of her in each of my girls, and I know that one day, they will be creating these same cookies, in their own kitchens, filled with love....and a heart full of sweet, sweet memories!





(Photos: Cookie Making in Chef's Outfits)

Trust and Rest

Trust and rest when all around you
Puts your faith to stringent test;

Let no fear or foe confound you,
Wait for God and trust and rest.

Trust and rest with heart abiding,
Like a birdling in its nest,
Underneath His feathers hiding,
Fold your wings and trust and rest.

"Trust in him." (Psalm 37:5

Today, I trust; and in trusting....Lord, draw me into your rest.

*(excerpt from Streams in the Desert by L.B. Cowan....December 15)

Unexpected Gifts

The season of gifts. It swirls around us during this time....the thrill of the giving...the excitement of the receiving. Gifts are truly wonderful things!

Noah Webster, in his 1828 dictionary defines a "gift" as "anything given or bestowed...transferred from one person to another without compensation".

I reflect on the what it means to open a gift....to hold the wonderfully wrapped package in our hands, wondering....dreaming...of what could be inside. Something special...indeed. Something intended JUST for me, true. With trembling hands, we untie the lovely bow and tear through the patterned papers that conceal our treasure. Still unknowing...it's contents still a mystery.

Oftentimes, it is the anticipation, the unknowing, the trembling hands that make the gift such a joyful occasion. Certainly, the gift itself is a blessing...usually something we have been hoping for, or something personal from someone who loves us dearly. A token, really, from the heart of another bestowed directly into our own hearts. A transfer of affection, tenderness.....a gift.

And yet, gifts...in all their wonder...can also be unexpected bestowments. A deeply hidden gift in the midst of something not nearly as beautiful as glittering bows and brightly colored paper.

Is it possible that these gifts, these loving treasures can be found at the end of a very long "unwrapping"? An unwrapping that is laced with pain, struggle, anguish...and even betrayal?

It is in these difficult seasons of our lives...that some of the most life-changing gifts are bestowed deeply into our souls. Gifts that only the very breath of heaven could deliver.

These are the unexpected gifts. For we find our faces marred with the dirt of life, and smeared with the anguish of our pain. It doesn't seem like a gift...it seems hard, and difficult. It seems like it might even crush us beneath it's weight. The pain of an ended relationship, the struggle of devastated finances, even the betrayal of those we thought would never leave us.

Ours is the wrapping of the forsaken, of the broken.

There is no glamour here...no glittering bow. Just pain.

And then...as the "unwrapping" draws to a close...we begin to SEE! Our eyes get to peek beyond the wrappings...and glimpse a gift! How like the Kingdom of God to be so opposite and almost contradictory in it's nature. We know that in order to be the first, we must be the last. In order to be the greatest, we must be the servant. We know that to live, we must first die.

Therein lies the gift. In the journeying through our striving...we find the gift of Peace.

In walking through the fires of refinement, we find the treasure of Purity and in ourselves a Reflection of Him.

At the end of a long list of bills, and a shallow bank account....we rage, we struggle, then we find Contentment, Gratitude and even the gift of Simplicity.

In enduring the yoke of heavy, difficult burdens, we find HIS yoke...that is Rest.

And in the ashes of devastation, the aftermath of being betrayed by those we held so dear... comes a double gift. First the gift of Freedom! The release to fully embrace the next gift, which is the gift of Himself. Drawing us in, holding us close, and whispering...."My Beloved,I will NEVER leave you, and will never, ever forsake you."

And in receiving HIS gifts.....we smile. For we then give the most precious gift back to the Giver.

John Bunyan calls it the "Acceptable Sacrifice, The Excellency of a Broken Heart".

"For You delight not in sacrifice, or else would I give it; You find no pleasure in burnt offering. My sacrifice, the sacrifice acceptable to God, is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart...such, O God, You will not despise."

Psalm 51:16-17

(amplified)

Altered Horizons

"Every time we pray our horizon is altered, our attitude to things is altered, not sometimes but every time, and the amazing thing is that we don't pray more."

Oswald Chambers

Lord, that you would draw me into your innermost dwelling place, that my faulty sight would be divinely altered to see as you see....and to rest continually in prayer.

Photo: Sunset in my neighborhood

Most Precious Gift

A life changing experience, this 1000 Gifts. I had always thought of myself as a grateful one; one who offered praise and thanksgiving for the blessings in my life. But in numbering a small notebook from one to one thousand….I was struck with how very little I actually GIVE thanks.

Of course I think it, and over the years I have enjoyed aesthetically pleasing things…almost as a celebration of spirit. But to actually pause, to record, to pen my gratitude to the Giver…is changing me on a level I cannot explain.

I have noticed that the area of most change is toward my precious husband. As a young bride, I was steeped in Cinderella syndrome, searching and expecting my “happily ever after”….and sadly, have lived much of my married life in pursuit of the ever elusive dream, focusing and pressing toward unrealistic perfections and romance.

I have read recently, that if you will only open your eyes, you will see right in front of you that very thing which you have always been desiring and pursuing. You already have it…it is only a matter of seeing it.

You already have it….

I wonder…what would happen if I had a list of 1000 Gifts, that held only those things that pertained to my dear husband…what would my marriage look like after recording those 1000 gifts? Those fingerprints of my Father found wrapped up in the heart of my husband, in his life, his fatherhood, his faithfulness…

Already so much of my gratitude journal holds entries of him, and it is already transforming my heart and renewing my mind in my relationship to him….

My heart smiles as I think of all the years of laughter and joy, sorrow and tears that have weaved themselves into our marriage…what beauty, right in front of me.

~ skinny, blond haired boy of 15, whom I was instantly enamored with…

~ quiet, forbidden holding of my hand, during youth group concert…precious

~ tender evening of teenagers on a porch swing, as heart strings were tied in the heavenlies

~ years passed, now a grown up, beautiful man in army uniform, stealing my heart and my affections

~ an arranged date, a simple “knowing” that the search was over

~ man of strength and confidence,…so strong where I was so weak, so unsure and timid

~ faithful and committed in a difficult first few years of marriage, as I found my voice… loudly!

~ non-religious, deep man of faith, teaching me to question everything…showing me a bigger God than I had ever known.

~ a real and non-pretentious man, teaching me to think for myself… speak my mind

~ patient and tolerant as my “people pleasing” tried to force him to fit into my family

~ always supportive through my countless business and entrepreneurial dreams

~ self sacrificing heart, who walked away from a secure job, to pursue MY dreams in Colorado

~ Amazing provider, never too prideful to take the less than perfect jobs in order to provide.

~ Holding me, encouraging me through my tears when life got hard, and my faith was wavering

~ My rock, my strength in the delivery room…3 times.

~ Watching him hold these new souls, knowing instinctively how to love them, tend to them

~ Only he could evoke truly delightful belly laughs from our babies

~ Working into the night, sleep schedules upside down, all for us…

~ The manliest of men… handguns, police officer, firefighter, rescue, always the servant!

~ Tender letters through the years, speaking his heart of love with clumsy but beautiful words

~ Anniversary number 7, with rose petals on the floor spelling out , “I love you”

~ His head in my lap, begging for relief for yet another migraine

~ Beautiful father, loving his children as I have never seen.

~ Gentle heaving of his snores as he sleeps deeply, right beside me each night

~ His true and growing walk with the Father, that deepens with age

I am grateful for this man…for all that he is, for all that he is destined to be. He is truly my greatest gift…and I cannot imagine sharing this life with any other… It is my greatest joy to call myself his helpmeet.

My deepest prayer is that I would be worthy of such a man. And I look forward to filling pages and pages with my thoughts, my memories, my gratitude for such a precious gift.

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast , it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails”
1 Corinthians 13: 4-8

Photos: Evergreen, CO Day at the Lake Fishing with Daddy

My Soul Finds Rest

"My soul finds rest in God alone;
my salvation comes from him.
He alone
is my rock and my salvation;
he is my fortress, I will never be shaken."
Psalm 62:1-2

O that I may know His rest today...when winds blow, and waves crash...may I remember that in His Presence is my peace. Rest O my soul...rest.

Photo: Waterfall at Fort Worth Botanic Gardens with Grandaddy

Moved to Compassion

There is much I am pondering on this “Black Friday”…busiest shopping day of the year. I have always been one to rise while it is still dark, list in hand, the thrill of hitting the stores early to get all the best “stuff”. Strange adrenalin surging through my body, propelling me, driving me…feeling the thrill of power shopping as if I were accomplishing some great and wonderful feat!

Then a few years ago, God’s Spirit took us into a new direction. A strange, uncharted and fiercely unpopular direction…into Simplicity.

In the slowing and in the quiet, He worked on the inner chambers of our hearts, bringing freedom where certain bondage of busyness had reigned supreme. What He revealed there in the darkest recesses of our souls was nauseatingly painful.

As He began to touch and refashion even our most basic traditions and celebrations, I found myself struggling against Him…until somewhere along the way, freedom came and I began to release my grip on those holiday traditions that I had held so dear…and began to see it all through His eyes.

Only this year have my eyes begun to truly see though, to turn from “us”, from this little family, and our celebrations, our needs, our memories…as He has begun to turn my gaze outward.

Being raised in church, I have always known of missions and ministry. And yet, it has almost been as though I have become so accustomed to hearing it, that it had a vaccine type effect on my heart. Put into a “world need” compartment that really didn’t touch me or my family…except for the check written from time to time, or a bit of money dropped into an offering bucket. Then going on with my life, never giving it much more thought.

And yet, as my gaze is being shifted, and focused outwardly…it is reaching beyond these walls, these lives, and it is beginning to rest on a world outside my own; I am humbled.

I am compelled from an inner place to pour out my life. This cup of mine that gets filled in the quiet hours of the morning, in busy days of homeschooling my children and tending to my home, I am filled. Blessed beyond measure, and yet feeding on that blessing almost as sustenance, instead of seeing those blessings as something to be poured out into the lives of others. Poured into the lives of my children…sure. Into the life of my husband…without a doubt. But what of the small child in Africa that waits to die, while a vulture waits quietly in his shadow. What of him?

The quiet words of Jesus speak to my Spirit in this early hour…as He divides the sheep from the goats and then addresses the sheep on His right….

“…Come you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom
prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave
me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a
stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick
and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me….I tell you
the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you
did for me.” Matthew 25:34-40

Oh how I long to inherit the kingdom, to lay hold of the inheritance that was prepared for me since the creation of the world. And I pray that my heart would break wide open for the least of these. That God’s Spirit would consume me with His compassion…

I ask the hard questions to my own self this morning…am I His sheep? Or will I be one of the shocked ones…thinking myself righteous and true…only to find out that I was really... a goat?

I humbly insert this link to Advent Conspiracy, praying that it will impact those of you reading these words as deeply as it has our family.

I am grateful to Ann’s beautiful blog, and for introducing me to Advent Conspiracy as well as the wonderful ministries and easy to use catalogs that allow our family to pour out our blessings this year in a simple and inspired way.

Harvest of Hope

World Vision Gift Catalogue

Gospel for Asia Gift Catalogue

Samaritan's Purse Gift Catalogue

Handmade Burp Cloths

Two precious friends recently had babies...one a delicious and long awaited baby boy, and the other a tender and sweet, much celebrated, baby girl! In a labor of love, I created a gift that would be both practical and decorative....beautiful handmade burp cloths. Really, it was a gift in itself, I had every intention of putting away the sewing machine and not thinking about it again. And yet in the creating of these small gifts, I found such peace...such celebration. As the machine hummed gently along, and I watched these sweet gifts emerge right before my eyes, I found myself praying for and celebrating these tiny souls!

My thoughts drifted to my dear friends, envisioning them holding these tiny loved ones...these new, precious members of their families. Awe...celebration...and with every stitch of the machine, these thoughts and prayers were tucked inside these humble gifts.

Two other friends happened to see my new "creations", and asked if they could order a set for themselves. I was humbled, and blessed by their interest and gladly filled their request. This time I had more fun, as I embellished a little more, added a little ribbon trim and let my creative juices flow just little bit. I was finding such joy in making these little trinkets! The recipients were thrilled and thus began my tiny, home enterprise...Iva Rose Creations.

"Iva" was my dear great, grandmother who held every bit of grace and strength in her wrinkled hands. Hands that snuggled babies, and wiped tears. Hands that cooked and cleaned tirelessly for a large family and anyone else who happened to stop by. Hands that opened her home to all who needed a quiet refuge from the storms of their lives. "Iva" Robbins, a simple, ordinary and delightful woman whose very presence enriched the lives of generations of children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, and even great, great grandchildren before her passing. Leaving behind her a legacy of rich memories, it is with tearful eyes that I christen these little treasures with her name...

And so I gather my fabric and quietly putter at designing something simple, but beautiful. I do not know where these new creations will eventually find their home, but I know it will be on the lap of a loving momma, as she tenderly celebrates this precious new life that she's been graced with. And as she reaches to wipe up the ordinary "messies" of this new little one, my prayer is that she may find celebration and beauty in every moment spent in the presence of her tiny angel.

Please visit Iva Rose Creations for ordering information or email me directly at

ivarosecreations@yahoo.com

Heavenly Treats

My precious baby. A delight to my soul. Always wanting to be where I am, doing what I do. A momma in training. I marvel as I watch her heart for homemaking. Often asking me in almost desperation and angst, "Momma...what should I be when I grow up, I just can't decide?!" Even in the midst of the shelter of our home, she has picked up on a worldly message that says she has to "be" something more than she is. That she has to pursue career, money, achievement... And yet her pleas come from a place in her heart; a place that craves the simplicity and joy of home. A deep and inner calling that desires to be a wife and a mother above all. And so I affirm her, and yet gently remind her that mommas get to be a nurse, and a chef, and decorator, and gardener, and a teacher. That she can be all of things things as she simply pours out her gifts into the life of her husband, and her children. Oh, but she is only five, tender years old. I smile.... she has so much time.

Yet I am painfully aware at how much she watches my every move, mimicking even my facial expressions or hand motions as I speak. She watches how I tap the wooden spoon on the side of the pot after stirring delicious soup...and moments later, I watch her do the same thing, then glancing at me with a look of satisfaction. She is delighted to sort laundry, and organize closets. She adores cooking and gardening. She is always right beside me with her little metal spade, digging, weeding and planting. She finds tremendous joy in sorting laundry, folding towels, and ironing place mats. She loves all cleaning, especially if it involves a little spray bottle! And she delights most of all in taking care of babies. She is desperate for me to have another one so she can take care of it for me! Again, I smile....what delight. What a gift.


Oh Lord, that I would find such delight and wonder in the tasks of my day. That I wouldn't view them as mundane or as a simple list of chores to be checked off, or somehow accomplished. But instead, as opportunities to explore, to find myself, and to worship you. Just as this little one is looking at me, help me to look at her and desire to become a little more like her every day.

I am struck by the scripture this morning that urges to us "make disciples of all nations" (Matthew 28:19) And I pause to think that we have so magnified those words ..make disciples, into "the great commission"...a great and ominous task. We have reduced them into a command that must be obeyed.

And yet, discipleship...is really imitation through relationship. Through continual time, fellowship and communion with another...we begin to take on their character, their nature. We find ourselves dressing like others, talking like others, even thinking like others....

I cringe at the times I've tried to MAKE myself or others a disciple for the Lord. When all the while, He only wants us hidden in deep, rich relationship with Him. And somewhere in all the time and fellowship spent with Him, we find ourselves thinking a little more like Him, acting a little more like Him. My thoughts becoming a little more like His, and my ways....a little more like ~ His. My heart learning to LOVE like He does.

As I look at this little one of mine, I ponder what she is becoming. Through time and relationship, she is becoming a follower of ~ me.

Certainly, she is becoming a disciple of the Lord, and growing up to follow hard after His Spirit...but she is following...me. She is imitating every word, every voice inflection, every motion of my hand.

As this realization begins to set it, I become increasingly humbled. The weight of the reality that my attitudes will form her attitudes sinks into my consciousness. I take a deeper look at my daily actions, words, attitudes...and prayerfully ask that they be worthy of imitation. That as this little child grows, and matures into a young lady, as she learns and develops the ideas, attitudes and skills that will shape her life...may they be that of a gentle and contrite spirit. May she smile at her tasks, and delight in the ordinary.

And so I draw her close, this little sponge of mine. finding joy in teaching her what it means to bake cinnamon rolls from scratch, and how to fold towels so they look pretty in the cabinet. How to write a letter of thanks for a graciously given gift. And somewhere, somehow, may I teach her, even in my own failure and weakness how to honor a husband, to be a helper and support. I pray that she find joy in teaching her children to read, and in helping a sick friend. And most of all, may she somehow learn to walk daily with the Lord, learning from His Spirit, and drawing from His grace.

As the fragrances of freshly baked cinnamon rolls drift from the oven, and we all gather round the table for a chilled glass of milk, devouring these delectable treats....I glance in my baby's direction. She is overjoyed at the compliments, and blessed by pouring out of herself and watching it bless her family.

"Well done, my precious girl....well done"

by the way....in case you want a little taste of heaven...here's the recipe ~

Cinnamon Rolls

1/4 cup warm water
1/4 cup butter, melted
1/2 (3.4 ounce) package instant vanilla pudding mix
1 cup warm milk
1 egg, room temperature
1 tablespoon raw sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
4 cups whole wheat flour (or 1/2 unbleached)
1 (.25 ounce) package active dry yeast

1/4 cup butter, softened
1 cup brown sugar
4 teaspoons ground cinnamon
3/4 cup chopped pecans

1/2 (8 ounce) package cream cheese, softened
1/4 cup butter, softened
1 cup confectioners' sugar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 1/2 teaspoons milk


DIRECTIONS
In the pan of your bread machine, combine water, melted butter, vanilla pudding, warm milk, egg, 1 tablespoon sugar, salt, bread flour and yeast. Set machine to Dough cycle; press Start.
When Dough cycle has finished, turn dough out onto a lightly floured surface and roll into a 17x10 inch rectangle. Spread with softened butter. In a small bowl, stir together brown sugar, cinnamon and pecans. Sprinkle brown sugar mixture over dough.
Roll up dough, beginning with long side. Slice into 16 one inch slices and place in 9x13 buttered pan. Let rise in a warm place until doubled, about 45 minutes. Meanwhile, preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C).
Bake in preheated oven for 15 to 20 minutes. While rolls bake, stir together cream cheese, softened butter, confectioners' sugar, vanilla and milk. Remove rolls from oven and top with frosting.

Photo: Cinnamon Roll Baking with Emily

Be Still, and Know...

"Be still, and know that I am God..."

Psalm 46:10

Soothing balm to my anxious heart....Be still, and know...

Life happens, emotions swirl, heart hurts....and He beckons me to Be still...

I strive, I toil, trying to fix, trying to orchestrate....Be still...my beloved...be still.

Relationships crumble, plans fail...be still, and know.

It is a difficult divine whisper to hear, amid the clamor and the chaos. This urging to "be still"...doesn't come naturally to my flesh...

But my Spirit basks in it...yearns for it.

The pages of my Bible are tattered and stained at the site of this passage... it is a passage He draws me back to, again, and again, and yet again.

Because somehow...I don't live here. Instead, I rest, I recoup...then I pull up my bootstraps and head back into the storm.

This time is different. I observe the storm raging, some days more than others...and humbly realize my place in it. Not so much in the braving of the crashing winds and enduring the torrential rains beating fiercely upon my face. But rather, tucked deeply away in the safety and comfort of His presence.

In stillness I wait....

Be still, cease striving (the NAS reminds me)...and know that I am God.

It is not yours to control, it is not yours to weather...for He longs to show me the tiny, calm center that is in the midst of every storm, that is Himself.

And so in this early morning, as a thunderstorm booms in the darkness, and rain pours down outside my window...I am stilled...and my soul is quieted.

Knowing...Resting...Waiting....

Photo: My tattered Bible...

Called by My Name.....

Another early morning walk….earlier this time, a search for a quieter experience, proved true. As I donned my workout clothes and tied the laces of my shoes…I thought nervously, “do I really dare walk while it is still dark?” Married 16 years to a police officer will do that to a woman…caution. And so placing my cell phone in my pocket (just in case), I ventured out….The air was damp with humidity, the dogs were silent this time, no cars leaving for work, no rumbling engines, or loud highway sounds filtering into my neighborhood. Yes, still a basic, run of the mill neighborhood and certainly not the beauty that I found at Broce Ranch in Evergreen Colorado (photos)…., but instead of being assaulted by the sheer busyness….today, I felt the silence.

As my steps padded the pavement, a certain rhythm emerged, and I found myself breathing in the cool, Autumn air…and my spirit began to stir.

Initially, my prayers were for thanksgiving, for praise, …eventually they moved toward myself and my personal walk with the Lord, crying out for more of Him, and less of this world. On the dawn of this new day, I laid before Him my anxious thoughts about this new President of ours. Election reports still ringing in my ears, my gut wrenched. What will become of our nation with a man like that in office….I cried out. And yet, the gentle reminder from within that beckoned me to trust Him…for He alone has raised up this leader, and He alone knows the plan for our country. My heart sickens a little, wondering, knowing really, that humility and brokenness are the in the future for this country. The journey ahead is unknown, but I exhale…and breathe in trust…in One who knows…and who’s plan was set before the foundations of the earth. This election was no surprise to Him….He raised him up….for such a time as this. Oh America, humble yourselves, turn to the one who set us apart…return to the One…who was our first love. I ache for our nation….I ache for the apathetic Christians in our nation who have so mixed and mingled with the world that we are indistinguishable from it.

Just yesterday, the kids and I were reading how the Children of Israel, once again began to complain to Moses…even after all of Gods miraculous intervention, all of His mercy….in spite of it all…they insisted on idols, insisted on turning their hearts to Egypt, and almost welcoming(even desiring) the bondage there, over the need to trust Him in desert. And we read, how they began to show discontentment toward the manna….the very sustenance of God himself. Demanding, MEAT….Oh, how that is our nation….it wasn’t enough that God drew us out from the rule of of an oppressive England, it wasn’t enough that he prospered us, it wasn’t enough that poured out his blessing again and again…still we allowed the “mixed multitudes” to influence and draw us into discontentment. Even though slaves, the Hebrews longed to be cared for by the Egyptians, provided for….even if it cost their freedom. So it is in this modern day land of ours. We demand MEAT! We are entitled to it! Give it! NOW!

As the kids and I read this story, we saw how God granted their demand…causing the quail to fly in, in an eerie almost plaguelike moment. Has God granted our “demand”? They were giddy….catching them, killing them, gorging themselves on this “meat”….that they had demanded. And they ate, and they gorged, and they ate some more…..until they were sick. Their greediness, their desire had not seen past their instant provision….but the result of that provision was sickness, death, a plague of gut wrenching illness…..brought on by their gluttonous hearts. Many, many died….succombing to the death brought on by the very thing that they thought they wanted.

My seven year old Reaghan, during the narration, the telling back of what we had read…. Said, “even though God knew that the manna was better for them, they thought it was boring and so God gave them the meat they wanted. But sometimes, what we want is not what is good for us. They had to die before they realized they should have been grateful for the manna.” Out of the mouth of babes….

And so on this quiet morning….a silence fills the air. An entire nation of people…wait. Some rejoicing and dancing at the prospect of this new leader, and some sickened and beginning to fall on their faces before God, knowing that on some level….the nation has gotten what it asked for….and the repercussions may…be… a death to all we have known.

The words of 2 Chronicles 7:14 thunder in my ears...

"If My people, who are called by My name, shall humble themselves, pray, seek, crave, and require of necessity My face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, forgive their sin, and heal their land." (amplified)

What does it mean to be HIS? Am I really...His? Is He really my Lord? Or am I “my own”? …..

My heart longs to know…what does it mean to be called by His name?

NAME in the ancient text refers to…..nature.

We use his “name” as if some magic letters J-E-S-U-S… are going to make it so.

And yet all through scripture, we see it is never that easy…as a “magic” word. When the God of the Universe “calls someone by name” or “changes their name”….He usually walks them through some experience, wereby He CHANGES their very nature into His own. An ending of the old….a death to who they’ve been, the dawning of the new…..and as they emerge out of the darkness of the refinement experience…they are NEW.

And so…I ponder this morning as my neighborhood sleeps….what is our nature? Wheat and Tares are grown up together…and only God can tell us apart.

It starts with me….What is MY nature? My heart wrenches at the realization of all the areas in my own life, my own walk…that do not reflect His Nature.

My carnal inclination is to “fix” this problem, to dust off my list of rules….the detailed picture of how a Christian should live…then grit my teeth, and make myself follow those rules. Or at least be a good “witness” by looking like I follow the rules.

But He calls me deeper….As deep calls unto deep….He says simply, COME. Come to me…drink of me….sup with me….fellowship with me….

Drawing me, yearning for me….to simply come. And in the very coming, a small piece of my flesh dies. I drink deeply of his cup….his presence, his life…and a gentle transformation, begins to take place.

No list of rules….no determination….just intimate fellowship with the Lover of my Soul!

My carnal mind screams that there is NO way, it is this easy…there must be something I can DO!

I think back to a lengthy and hard discussion had with my Brayden…my precious nine year old son….on the power of associations. We’ve always heard “you become like the people you hang around”….have we not?

I have watched as a sensitive, tender boy with natural leadership ability, has spent far too much time around others who live differently, talk differently, act differently…whose core values are vastly different from our own. And then, found myself shocked when after a few weeks of continual summer play with these same children… my tender son, now mocks and disdains his sisters. His once transparent heart, is now deceitful and sneaky. His respectful obedience to his parents has been replaced with rolling eyes, and an argumentative spirit. And the Spirit speaks….you are surprised by this? A pulling back was necessary...and just now after two months of changing the friends, limiting the influences...we are seeing the sweet nature returning.

And so, if this nation is to be transformed, if we are to see godly leaders in our nations highest offices, it must start on a heart level. For the Kingdom of God does not come through legislation….but through relationship…where those of us who call our selves by his Name….find their own “closet”, and gets intimately acquainted with Abba, and through communion, and fellowship, and stillness in His presence…He lays us bare….opens us up….and begins to gently wash, nurture and prune our lives, pouring forth Himself, and therefore His character into our souls.

And we find all of those things that so easily ensnared us…our pride, our self sufficiency, our self righteousness, our lying tongues, and our lustful eyes, our bitterness….begin to fade and be weeded out of our hearts.

And without striving, without anguishing….He says, “Be still….and know”, and we rest.

And I cry out with Much Afraid, in Hannah Hurnard's classic book, “Hinds Feet on High Places”….”Oh, Lord….tie me to the altar…that I may NOT be caught struggling.”

I so desire His nature to completely erase my own wretched one. Oh, that my flesh would die, and my ways would somehow become His ways…that my thoughts would somehow become His thoughts.

And it starts with pulling back…silencing those influential voices that sway my heart and keep my flesh alive and well….and allowing Him to draw me into the Holy of Holies. To linger there in that place, to gaze deeply and long…at His face…and to inhale His holiness, and His righteousness….

And in doing so…my name is changed….

And He smiles

Photos: Broce Ranch, Evergreen CO...nature at it's best

He is Enough...

The early morning….still dark, I am drawn outside to walk, to talk with the Lord. And so I ventured out, camera in hand, jacket on my back to shelter me from the chilly air. My heart is adventurous, anticipating what beauty I will find in this wee hour, as the sun is beginning to light the world.

I am immediately struck by my neighborhood, identical houses, street lights symmetrically placed to shed artificial light on our homes. I begin to take pictures of this manufactured life that our society has all created, saddened in a way by it’s existence. But I wait….in expectation…for the sun is still about to rise.

The neighborhood is beginning to awaken, cars seem to crowd out my thoughts with their engines running, as they roar past me on the way to their jobs, their activities, their busy, busy lives. I breathe out the frustration….okay, now…to find the stillness, the quiet that my soul craves. I almost hear it ~ it is almost within reach…this silence. Yet as I walk by a house with a garish, blow up witch popping out of an eerie blow up pot (leftover from Halloween…), I cringe….Assaulted in a way.

My heart is searching, aching, longing for peace….for beauty, and I pray…

My feet plod along on the concrete, I walk past oil pumps toiling to pump fuel out of the ground for our never ending needs for fuel. And all the while I keep glancing toward the sunrise…even positioning myself so that I can “catch” it the moment it peeks it’s head above the horizon. A perfect crown for my “quiet” morning….I hope. At least I’ll get to see the sun rise…. yet…..still no sun.

More and more cars, leave their homes and roar past me…drowning my silence, and squelching the small voice of my Father. I cry out! I anguish! Lord, why??!! Why do you have me here..??? I was perfectly content in the mountains of Colorado, living on the beautiful Broce Ranch…snow capped mountains as my backdrop, amazing evergreen trees, magnificent elk and other wildlife traipsing through our front pasture…. But here??!!! Why!?

Has the sun come up yet??!! Not yet….yet the world is growing strangely light….as if the sun came up, without a sunrise. I am waiting for it, waiting, NEEDING to see it. And the world toils on….never stopping to even cast a glance! I begin to feel the grief of the Father….who provides so much for us all every day….and yet we never even stop….no, most never even PAUSE to take it in, or offer gratitude.

My walk is almost over….there has been no beautiful sunrise….only a dawning of a new day without pomp, without circumstance….it just got light. My soul aches.

And I pray…then I notice the shape of a cross in the manufactured concrete sidewalk …and my eyes begin to glaze with tears. This is a small crucifixion for me…a dying to something I hold oh so dear….. This is my desert, this place where there are no props, no aesthetically pleasing surroundings….only hard and difficult things…..and my thoughts drift to a man who had all things he loved stripped away. His family, his homes, his wealth, his friends, ….I groan inwardly…and his words echo in my mind…

"Though he slay me, yet I will hope in him..."

Job 13:15

As I round the corner to my street I glance up to notice the street sign above my head…..Diamond Lake…(Oh, wouldn’t that be nice….a crisp, cool beautiful lake, nestled in the mountains…shimmering like diamonds?)….and there perched on top of it, was the “cross” street…..THORNTREE.

…A thorny crown, pressed painfully into the precious head of my Lord……and a rugged, terrible tree, that he willingly died upon….an agonizing death….

And though, my eyes never saw the sunrise that they longed for….it is enough. Dayenu.

He is enough. If I never leave this neighborhood, if I grow old in this manufactured little house, in it’s man made street, with it’s lights, cars, sidewalks, and shoebox size back yards…..It is enough.

For my joy doesn’t come in the forests and the flowers, or even in a magnificent sunrise…. It comes in finding myself hidden in Him.

Dayenu…It is enough.

He is my all in all….anything else…. is extra.

Dayenu

Photos: Early Morning walk through neighborhood

Wisdom Begins in Wonder

Wisdom begins in wonder.

Socrates

In the early years, when I was dabbling with the idea of homeschooling....I was very intrigued with the idea of delight centered homeschooling. I could see within my children a God-given curiosity, a wonder for the world around them. Little delights like the blue bird gliding through the sky, or the first snowflakes of winter, or even a chicken pecking around in the farmyard at the Berry Patch Farms in the plains of Colorado. It was exhilarating trying to keep up with their questions, their joys...they truly were sponges, just soaking up the beauty and wonder in the world around them... Somewhere along the way, our learning turned more structured. In my own insecurities, and my own comparisons with other moms who were, oh so much better at this than myself....I began to take on their methods, their ways...and sadly, they never quite fit our family. It was like wearing the worn, comfortable shoes....of someone else. They just don't ever feel quite right. So has been our homeschooling journey. I tried and experimented with all the different "methods" and all the while have watched the light go out of my children's eyes. The wonder, replaced with a certain apathy, even whines of "how much more?".... My heart broke. I was failing at this....My soul cried out! Lord, You called us to this... you birthed a vision in my heart... you love these babies of mine...I give up! What do YOU desire for us. And so amidst the tangled web of methods like unschooling, unit studies, Classical education, Charlotte Mason....and the countless other "methods".... I listened. A slow and uneventful season of truly quieting the voices around me. Quieting the comparisons of my own children's progress to the children of my friends.... both those who homeschooled, and those who did not. I tore up my emotional "report card" and began to look into the eyes of my children again. To remember what it was that ignited this desire to homeschool, back in those early days.

"Education is that which remains when one has forgotten
everything learned in school. "

Albert Einstein

These words echoed in the hollows of my heart.... And so the pace changed, and the days slowed, and the agendas got laid aside. And for a small season our focus has been on regaining the wonder.

I have been amazed that it truly has not taken that much....time, energy, ....mainly a silencing of all the outward stimulus. Fewer videos, fewer friends, fewer activities....More quiet, more "boredom", more creativity, more nature. I read once that a child must be "bored" for a good 30 minutes to an hour, without any outside help to entertain, suggest activities ....just all out boredom. And at the brink of all the boredom the child can stand, a miraculous thing happens... true, deep creativity is born! I have seen it with my own eyes...and marveled!

The first thing that changed in our home, was a momma who was less "driven" by keeping up....and more excited to just "be".

Most of the changes happened in me. I found the quiet center of God's Spirit in my days, and asked for eyes to "see" his magnificence in every "little" thing around me. He gave...and gave...and continues to pour the gift of "seeing" into my soul. I am changed. This gentleness, and contemplative heart that He is weaving into my soul...is making room for the mundane, the ordinary to be transformed into the extraordinary.

The two other changes that have flowed from this transformation have been a rediscovery of the incredible hand of our Creator, in none other than nature itself....His grand creation! In and of itself, it has become our great "science" curriculum... and we are soaking it up like a dry, parched earth soaks up the rain! I put the "canned" Science curriculum back on the shelf, pulled out our nature notebooks, our camera, and our backpacks...stocked with water, compass, freshly sharpened pencils, and some healthy snacks... and began to find little bits of nature hidden away in the midst of this great DFW metropolis. Our nature walks have spurned unbelievable conversations on the Nature of God, on the deep, rich truths of the Kingdom. It has made many of the parables of Jesus come alive...as we observe ants, and trees, and vines, and branches, and wheat...all the "little" ordinary things that Jesus used to teach. Divine Curriculum....

And somewhere amidst the play...Learning, real, true, "stay with us for life", kind of learning is happening. We are discovering hidden birds nests, tucked away paths leading to flowing creeks, ancient strong oak trees, and tiny colorful caterpillars. We are observing life in rotted logs, and under rocks...the things that are hidden and obscured by the casual glance. We are discovering life itself, and in that created life....we are glimpsing a Kingdom life...and beginning to lay hold of what lies before us.

The second great change, in addition to our amazing walks through nature, is the rediscoveryof great literature. Oh, I had plenty of books on my shelf, and was a great "collector" of books, yet somehow....the days got swallowed up with "real school" and assigned reading...and we lost the joy of the rich, living books. The kind that evoke thoughts, and create ideas. And so we began to read for the simple pleasure of hearing the words spoken, and watching the stories unfold in our imaginations. As I read these life filled stories, ....one could hear a pin drop in our home...as my children are beautifully enraptured in the story. And as I come to the end of a chapter...my heart soars as I hear the pleas of my delighted children....begging....for "one more chapter... PLEEAAASSEEE!" ..Okay, just one more chapter. (And I smile as I remember my own mom saying the same to me, as she fostered a deep love of reading in my own heart, in much the same way).

And so our actual "recorded" school (you know...the records you keep to show the authorities, should anyone ever ask....) are filling the pages of my planner and THEN SOME! We are steeped in scripture, literature, science, history, classical music, and the list goes on....but instead of divided "subjects", we are finding our own rhythm...a rhythm of... family... instead of school. And it delights my soul.

And while I watch other parents who have academically superior children....I think...that it's really okay, because at my very core...I am less concerned about Ivy League Colleges, and astronomical SAT scores.... what I desire is that my children maintain their wonder! Because wonder....passion....is what will catapult them into their life callings. Passion....for any subject will cause a child to soak up every last fact of that subject....and as a result, their test score will only then reflect his absolute love of the material...not what was crammed in order to pass the test.

And so the Lord beckons me to "be still and know"......"taste and see that the Lord is Good".... and I press on to offer my children the gift of stillness, the joy of discovery, and a taste for the holy....that their hunger for more will be insatiable.

Colors of Chaos

Wisdom in Simplicity. How we seek after great truths, strive for knowledge, eager to attain some elusive greatness . But I am finding that often God speaks in a whisper, and often it is in the ordinary things of our days. As my children and I have studied the magnificence of our Creator, and the majesty with which He has poured forth himself into all of creation...it only takes a moment, a stopping to observe, a lingering to ....see. So many of my days reflect a certain chaos. Not really full blown mahem, but more of a crazy mix of joys, emotions, frustrations, hurts, silliness, disobedience, repentance, loudness, refinement, struggle, smiles, laughter....the list goes on.

Oftentimes, when this "mix" of our lives happens...it just gets MESSY! Tempers flare, rash words spoken, hearts hurting. Spilled milk, dropped and shattered dish, reluctant learners, doctors appointments, mounds of laundry, forgotten appointments, strained family relationships....all become one big mixed up pot of colors. Swirling, splotching, with no pattern...just chaos. Or so it seems......

And yet as the kids dash outside after a whirlwind of paint and brushes, creativity flowing....I sigh as I realize they have left yet another "mess" for me to clean up. I smile as I look outside and see them laughing, playing, jumping together, and think that I don't dare interrupt such joy. So I lean to pick up this plate of paint...and my first observation is that it seems they have used up the entire bottles of paint...and lament at such "waste". And then I hear the whisper....

look beyond what you see

... I stop and observe this drippy mess...and think....this is such a reflection of my life. Seemingly disjointed, chaotic in it's own precious way. Our lives.... messy. I pick up the globby paintbrushes, and casually begin to stir the colors...mesmerized by their gentle mixing and swirling. Soon I feel almost rythmic as I find the joy in creating order, even design....in the midst of this chaos. At first it is a simple back and forth watching the colors and textures appear...and then I realize...TRUE BEAUTY can come from this chaos. And it did... a smile tugged at the corners of my mouth, as I found delight in what I was creating....designing...causing all the colors, swirls, textures, to work together....WORK TOGETHER to create something beautiful.

My thoughts drift back to the chaotic colors that make up my life...bright yellows of my children's laughter and joy, the deep reds of the harsh words spoken that sometimes leave wounded hearts. The bright blues of peace and rest, the pure whites that are the grace of my loving Father...covering my weakness. The haunting blacks, that are the heaviness of broken relationships and lonely hearts...and out of these flow colors too numerous to mention...but all begin to flow... to work together.... Creating a masterpiece almost too beautiful to wash down the sink. And I touch the heart of God once more....

His thoughts become my thoughts. I see for just a moment through His eyes...

I glance outside again, my children playing joyfully and contentedly (for now...) and I marvel. Grace.

"We are assured and know that all things work together and are
fitting into a plan for good to and for those who love God and are called
according to His design and purpose." Romans 8:28 (Amplified)

Quiet Waters

"He leads me beside quiet
waters, He restores my soul..."

Psalm 23:2-3

Another early morning, 2:00am...sick children, the slightest sounds stir and awaken my slumbering eyes. Though I try, I cannot find sleep again as thoughts, anxieties, simple "to do" lists begin to flood my mind. I am struck this morning at the sheer "busyness" that invades our lives, and steals our peace. I have consciously simplified, intentionally chosen a slower pace, a quiet life... and still, the tasks at hand, the pressures of the world, the weight of life...seem to take me to a heightened pace that makes my head spin. Though I must say, I am growing to love these early morning hours... I am reminded of the gentle hymn which was sung tenderly throughout my childhood by my mom...

"I come to the garden
alone, while the dew is still on the roses
(that's really early morning...)

and the voice I hear, falling on my
ear

the Son of God discloses.

And He walks with me, and He talks with
me,

And tells me I am His own.

And the joy we share as we tarry
there,

None other, has ever known."

She touched something early on in her walk with the Lord, that I am just now fully grasping. The intimacy and the filling of the Lord in those early hours, the lingering in his Presence...the basking in the warmth of His Spirit. In my younger years, I "tried" it...as if it were a "to do" list, something to be accomplished rather than experienced. I expected tangible, almost audible experiences with the Lord...needing fuel for the day, for my busy...busy life. A "checkmark" of sorts. And now I realize it wasn't about my needs, or my agendas....it was about Abba's desire to pull me up onto His lap, pull my face close to His and whisper sweet nothings into my spirit.

I think of my babies... and how just yesterday, Emily just spontaneously climbed up into my lap... took both of my cheeks in her tiny hands....looked me directly in the eyes, and said "I love you so much mommy"... then planted the most tender kiss on my lips. I wrapped her in my arms, inhaled her sweetness, and experienced an intimacy that was beyond a child's hug. I touched heaven at that moment....and thought of the scripture that speaks of how much more our Father in heaven cares for us...

Life is busy, "to do" lists...must get done, homeschool lessons must be taught to eager children, dinner must get cooked, laundry must get cleaned, toilets must get scrubbed...but I long for the ability to do it all WHILE abiding deeply in His presence. Brother Lawrence writes of the ability to carry on daily, even mundane tasks yet never breaking the continual communion with the Spirit of God. He says,

"There is no sweeter manner of of living in the world than continuous communion with God."

Brother Lawrence

I long for just that..."continuous communion" with God. How often I try to fill this deep, insatiable thirst....with cheap, substitutes. I try to fill my own cup through relationships, through activity, through intellectual stimulus...and yet I am as dry, and parched as ever. And God beckons...calls unto us...as deep calls unto deep...

"My people...they
have forsaken me the fountain of living waters, and hewed them out cisterns,
broken cisterns that can hold no water"

Jeremiah 2:13

There is no substitute...busyness, activity...even religious activity...are just counterfeits for the pure, clear, living water that God offers us....in Himself.

Once again, the sun is rising outside...dogs are beginning to bark in the neighborhood, activity is beginning to stir...and while my little ones are still sleeping soundly....it is only a matter of time before they awaken...and our day will start. Yes, my list of tasks is here in front of me, yet today may I receive the gift of Grace that is given so freely. May I somehow walk out my activity...while carefully, quietly...remaining beside those quiet waters...