Wind's in the East...

Wind by Gureu
Flickr.com_photos/francescobellu/3667357527.jpg
CC BY-ND 2.0

Wind's in the east, mist comin' in

Like somethin' is brewin' and 'bout to begin.

Can't put me finger on what lies in store, 

But I feel what's to happen all happened before.

(Lyrics, Chim Chim Cher-ee by Richard M Sherman & Robert B. Sherman)

Season's changing. The hot summer bids us farewell and autumn's settling in with his cool breeze, yellow,orange and rusty hued leaves, shorter days and longer nights. We've all been here before and we know what's in store, generally. 

I mean we can predict weather cycles, but not specific storms too far in advance. Calendars remind us of upcoming holidays, but not what will take place in between. We plan our days accordingly--check the weather, the calendar dates, our to-do lists, but when it comes down to it, we never quite know exactly how the day will start or end or what might upend us. I suppose that's good, or we'd never get out of bed. 

It's been a mysterious year for me--a year when the East wind kicked up a storm--compounded family crises (good and bad) found me spinning in every direction imaginable. I've been here before--handled years like this before--nine years like this, to be exact, but who's counting? (Oh yeah, me). I thought after that first year of suffering concussive syndrome symptoms for seven months, I'd be prepared for a year like this. 

But I wasn't.  This year I'm weary. Literally at the end of myself. 

For years, (nine years) I've been feeling like I'm never enough for everyone who needs me. And I'm not. This year proved it. 

Eighteen months ago, I was diagnosed with vitamin D3 and B12 deficiency. No biggie, right? but after a year's worth of healthy eating, bi-weekly B12 shots and a myriad of natural food supplements, I felt the east wind blowing and all the physical symptoms returned. Luckily, blood work showed my vitamin levels were fine, in fact way off the charts, but I'd contracted mono. Again, no biggie. It's treatable. Been here before.

The only treatment? Rest. Lots and lots of rest. 

Hey, every adult wishes they'd be ordered to bed, right? Yeah, but what happens when you're the main caregiver for two aging mothers, an active grandmother to six grandchildren whom you love with all your heart, a small group leader and an already a hard-to-motivate writer? 

Let. It. Go. and ask for help. 

Following the doctors orders, I gave myself permission to sleep. A lot. Twelve hours a day for two weeks. Nine hours every night the third week, and so on, until my body finally regulated to a normal eight hour night. 

And, you know what's amazing? While I slept, my mothers were well cared for by others, my family was flexible and came back to visit when I was well, and my writing...well...I didn't write, but the rest helped restore my creativity. Ideas flow more easily and instead of just scheduling archived articles, it's refreshing to actually write an original thought. (Thanks for your patience). 

Best of all, I'm learning that it's okay to not be enough for everyone. God is. That sounds cliche, I'll admit. But it's true. When I thought I had to run around like crazy meeting everyone's needs on my own, God's taught me that He is ultimately in control. [He will provide for everyone's] needs according to the riches of His glory in Christ Jesus (Philippians 4:17 NIV). So much more than I can offer. 

How about you? Is the east wind blowin'? Feelin' like somethin' is brewin' 'bout to begin? How do you handle the changes that upend you? 

Unshackled

Prisoner Shackles by Jonathan Dresner
flickr.com_3072374801_db98b198a7_CC BY-ND 2.0

If you're visiting from {re}fresh, welcome!

"But I am freeing you from the chains on your wrists." Jeremiah 40:4a

Tommy walked outside the iron gates a free man, carrying all he owned inside a crisp manila envelope - life simplified. Endless possibilities stretched out before him promised life renewed, but somehow life got crazy on the outside, his past hijacked him and freedom didn't seem so rich or desirable, after all (from the movie, Crazy on the Outside, 2010, starring Tim Allen).

Sometimes we're a lot like Tommy. We find ourselves suddenly unshackled - finally free from our past - and yet we bend down and pick up our own manila envelopes. We peek inside at the past, at the little life we own and suddenly our dreams and desires skew; they veer way off the freedom road.

It's an old, old story and the ending remains the same:

Only God frees

Throughout history God said, leave everything behind - all your possessions, your little life and all it's gods - and follow Me. 

Live life unshackled. 

And when we do? 

                                              God builds us up, prospers us

                                              God plants us, establishes deep roots

                                              God stays with us, protects and guides us

                                              God restores us, brings health and healing

What's inside your manila envelope? Are you willing to leave it at the curb, walk away and follow God on the freedom road? I know, it's easier hanging onto what we know rather than hoping in what we can't see. Hope goes against everything we are, but dig deep and scream, "Help!" He'll come alongside and show you the way - that's the kind of God He is. He's living and breathing and always there when we call. His greatest desire is to free us, restore us to who He created us to be. 

Father, it's so hard to leave behind what we know and walk towards hope in what we cannot see, but today we cry out, "Help!" and take that first step toward freedom - trusting you.  





The Final Chapter

You show that you are a letter from Christ...written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God... 2 Corinthians 3:3 NIV

Bent over two bowls of soup, we share lunch on the hospital tray. He doesn't say much, for what's there to say when you traverse between the bed and a wheelchair day after day? We'd all hoped for a better outcome - one that found restoration either this side of heaven or the other. Instead, I share soup across the table from the shadow of a man I call "Dad." 

He sips and labors over every bite like he's plowing through a banquet-sized meal and I sense his frustration - how little pleasures like eating aren't pleasures anymore, but rather, struggles that steal his breath and I know what he's thinking - "Why go on living?"

My spirit cries within me, "Take him home, Jesus. Take him home!" But Jesus answers, "I'm not finished writing his story just yet. Keep reading." 

I read between the lines through the silence - flashback to a time when I would have wished him gone - not to relieve his pain, but my own - to suffer the same pain his abandonment caused me - wished he'd simply disappear. But he came back. 

And now.

Now, I stand at the bathroom sink scrubbing his dirty dentures and bend over the laundry basket folding his shirts wondering from where in his story this love comes? What makes me want to do these things for him? It's no love I conjured up on my own for this dying man; nothing I ever wrote down or plotted.

This is all part of God's story written between us. The story where forgiveness dissolves diseases like anger and resentment and where Love rewrites the ending, not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God.

And, where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom to love as He loves; to see others as He sees them; to restore all the time and circumstances once stolen. This Spirit breathes warmth and light and new life into our cold, cold hearts, our deepest, darkest thoughts and our shattered families and redeems all things through Christ.

While it's difficult watching Dad slowly whittle away, I pray for patience to watch and wait for God's perfect ending to this final chapter. 

Abba, Father,
While we watch and wait for the end - whether in our own lives or a loved one's life - help us to always look for your story you're writing in the midst of all the suffering. Fill us with your Spirit that helps us see others through your eyes and love as you love. Grant us the patience and understanding during these most difficult times and where forgiveness needs granting, humble us to offer it as it has been freely given to us through your Son, Jesus. Amen



Living Beyond the Curse

 

"Instead of the thorn bush will grow the pine tree, and instead of the briers the myrtle will grow." Isaiah 55:13

Triple H Days - hazy, hot, humid - hung thick like stew for days. I camped out inside with the AC except for occasional runs from the cool car to the grocery store and back. It was even too hot for my Maine Coon cat who sprawled tummy-up on the kitchen floor in direct line of the artificial arctic blast, too hot to care about chasing mice in our neighbor's yard.

It was hard waiting for the promised cold front because here in New England weather changes every ten minutes (or so it seems), but when it finally arrived, we both welcomed it with all its loud booming and glorious lightning flashes accompanied by monsoon rains and lower humidity. Ahhh! Paradise.

But with relief came hard work. Every shrub and fruit bush showed burned leaves or shriveled fruit. Weeds grew taller than the day lilies, crab grass flourished,  and spider mites webbed their way through our ornamental spruce trees. Time for some low-to-the-ground calisthenics!

I worked for hours tugging, sweating, pulling out 60 gallons worth of weeds from my garden beds. And as each bag overflowed I thought about God's curse on the land found in Genesis 3:17-18 NIV:

“Cursed is the ground because of you; through painful toil you will eat food from it all the days of your life.  It will produce thorns and thistles for you, and you will eat the plants of the field..."

After my four hour weeding frenzy my little piece of paradise was restored, but not without sweat equity dripping from every pour. I wanted to give Adam and Eve a little piece of my mind! I often wonder what it was like living in the Garden of Eden prior to the Fall, before God cursed the land, don't you? I imagine temped air, gorgeous blooms in rainbow colors and lush green foliage; gigantic shade trees, delicious fruit trees bursting with food, and wooded paths along a cool river where God and man met on a big flat rock at the end of every day.

My heart longs for Paradise lost, doesn't yours? The perfect place where order rules and all is right between earth and sky, man and beast and his Creator.

Jesus came, not only to restore man to the Creator-God, but to restore the whole earth as well. In Matthew 27 we read that the Roman soldiers crowned Jesus with thorns. An elder in my church recently pointed out that these thorns represented the curse of toil, weeds, and thistle. When Jesus' blood flowed over his thorny crown, it redeemed us from the curse of toiling - not from work - for work was good - given to us by God after Creation:

The Lord God took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to work it and take care of it. Genesis 2:15 NIV

As followers of Jesus, we are Kingdom people - holding the glory and goodness of God within us. Therefore, everything and anything we do is sacred - done unto the Lord himself. As we make things "right", (whether we weed our gardens, change our baby's diaper, steady our aging parents, organize our office desk, smile at the postal clerk, whatever it is), we are agents of God's Kingdom through our actions and attitudes.

God calls us, through Jesus, to partner with Him to restore His Kingdom on earth (full of thorns and thistles) as it is in heaven (perfect order). We can't do it alone - not by the sweat of our brow or our limited resources - but through giving God all that we are and letting Him and His limitless resources flow through us.

Are we willing to live beyond the curse? Rather than toiling (grumbling) through our jobs, household tasks, or yard work, let's give thanks for God's provision - call forth His Kingdom in our bosses, our families, our bits of property - so that everything we have and do shines God's glory.

Baggage: Packing for those Just-In-Case Moments

"It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery." Galatians 5: 1

It amazes me how little my husband needs to pack for a trip. Whether it’s a week or just a weekend, he fits everything into a carry-on. I, however, need the largest suitcase, an overnight bag AND a large tote bag!

You see, I pack for the “just in case” moments. Maybe you can relate? I pack that pretty dress “just in case” we visit a fancy restaurant, (which also requires packing an extra pair of shoes, a clutch, matching jewelry and perfume). I pack a long pair of pants for a summer trip down south “just in case” the weather turns cold, (Has it ever known a July day less than 85 degrees?). So, you can imagine how heavy my baggage is on our return trip.

(Pssst...I'm enjoying a cup of coffee with the folks at Encouragement Cafe. Grab a hot cup 'o joe, click on the highlighted link and join us for the rest of the story).

My Sweet Spot Restored

“I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten..."

Joel 2:25

We share an unspoken bond, a connection like no other I've known since I sat in my own mother's lap decades ago. It's almost like our hearts are rhythmically connected. We enjoy one another's silence and participate in encouraging gab fests--either way, these precious moments speak volumes.

When we're together my mind eclipses back to childhood memories of working alongside my own mother. With six and nine years between my older sisters and I, I enjoyed hours of solitary time with Mom while they attended school. Whatever she did, I wanted to do, even the menial tasks like ironing, vacuuming and grocery shopping. It didn't matter what she did, her presence comforted me. But, my sweet spot with Mom was when I curled up on her lap, my ear pressed up against her chest and listened to the rhythm of her heartbeat and the echo of her every breath.

I was nine years old when my parents divorced. When my father walked out one hot day in August, my mother and I switched roles. She needed my support, my strength, my emotional stability and comfort. I haven't felt her comfort since and there are moments I still grieve that loss, wishing I could still curl up on her lap and press my ear against her chest and listen to her rhythmic heartbeat and fall asleep to the echoes of her breath.

Thursday I received a desperate plea from my daughter-in-law to babysit my four-year-old granddaughter overnight who was reversing all the vacation packing. Of course, I was delighted to spend another day with my granddaughter before they flew off across country for a week!

During the Maundy Thursday service my granddaughter curled up on my lap, ear pressed up against my chest and I gently rocked her back and forth in my seat while the piano prelude filled the sanctuary. Then out of nowhere she looked up at me with her big, baby-blues and said, "I love listening to your heart, Grams." Our own little sweet spot!

God reminded me right then of a word a friend received on my behalf earlier this year:

"Dawn, God will restore all the years the locusts have eaten. He will do this through your granddaughter."

And He is! Our heart-bond is no coincidence. Rather, it is a beautiful gift--restorative art, woven together by the hands of our loving God, just for us. Never do I take for granted the moments we share because I know each day is a heart-made gift. 

Is there a place in your heart that needs God's restorative art? Is there someone or someplace God's given you to restore the years the locusts have eaten? Are you that restorative gift God's using in someones life, today?

Father God, no words can properly express my thankfulness for the restorative work of art you are creating by your own hand in my life through this special relationship. But, I am grateful, ever grateful. May you do the same for any reading this today who mourn loss in their lives. Restore them, Father. May they recognize the Giver as well as the gift and give you praise. Amen.

Silence and the Creative Process

" 'Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.' So they went away by themselves in a boat to a solitary place." Mark 6: 31b-32

 Silence. Pure quiet, hear-my-own-heartbeat silence is where I'm most comfortable. Silence is where I rest. Silence is where I gather insights through reading. Silence is where I process life. Silence is where my heart talks and my hands write. Silence is where I hear God whisper loud and clear.

 So much of life is full of noise. Screeching sirens, clacking train tracks, engine whistles, honking horns, people walking, children crying, people talking, talking, talking; talking to me or talking at me in real life or on T. V. It's all the same. It's all noise.

 When Jesus was at the peak of his ministry his days were full of people, noise and activity. He traveled miles in a day, teaching and performing miracles along the way. People as demanding as the paparazzi followed him around the countryside hoping for a glimpse, a touch, or a word. By the end of the day, he said to his disciples, "I'm beat. Let's get outta here!" Okay, maybe not those exact words but that's what he would've said in modern-day English. In those moments, he taught us all a great lesson: Rest comes when we retreat to a solitary place, with Him.

Today I need one of those solitary days. Rest. Retreat after a busy weekend and Monday, with only the sound of the ticking clock. My mind needs rejuvenation where thoughts can flow and gain perspective. My spirit needs food while I digest and birth new ideas.

I relish the creative process of silence.

Jesus knew the importance of silence and the creative process. Without both work and rest, our creativity suffers. Work allows our thoughts, ideas, visions to become tangible objects. But rest is where more thoughts, ideas and visions germinate.

We don't have to be secluded or alone to enjoy the benefits of rest. Jesus rested while he was surrounded by his dearest friends. He even invited them to his solitary place. We too, can enjoy silence, rest and take those we love with us. There are many nights my husband and I spend hours, shoulder-to-shoulder, in silence. We enjoy the presence of one another without speaking a word.

Other times, maybe in the instance of this scripture today, our rest includes decompressing together from the hard day in the seclusion of our living room. We block out the world and share stories of big and small victories or put our hearts out on the table when it's been less than a stellar day. We laugh. We cry. We disagree. We listen. We encourage. We come together. We rest. We end the day together in silence.

Don't fear the silence but relish it. Take full advantage of time, however small or large the chunk, go to a solitary place (even the bathroom) and sit in silence. Allow the day to drain from your veins and invite God's whispers to fill your heart. It's in these moments of rest where God's seed can germinate and we are prepared for the work ahead.

Pausing for Thankfulness: All Things New

"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new." 2 Corinthians 5:17

She stared at her name--four letters swirled in blue ink across the page.

Her identity--past and present, good and bad--captured by one simple word. So simple, her forth grade face flushed from it's unmelodious sound sung in music class. 

Life's disappointments named her, too: small, unnoticeable, insignificant. Her heart believed life's shouts, birthing shame packaged in shyness--squelched creative expression.

She was good. Deep down, she knew this. She. Was. Good. But her ears only heard the Enemy scream, "Not. Good. Enough."

Her core raged anger. Silent war waged against her heart. Walls went up and she took up arms--arms with clenched fists--against those who loved her, including the One who made her.

But He pursued, whispering "You. Are. Enough" until she heard Him. His grace-full hands reached down deep--rescued her heart.

His forgiveness freely given--freely received with unclenched hands--begged to be freely offered. And her fingers curled inwards. "But..." she started. His tender fingers gently silenced her words. "Give me your heart--wounds and all. Let me restore it--make it new," he said.

And as He restored, her walls crumbled, her fingers unfurled and her arms raised in praise to the One who makes all things new--even her. 

Delighted, she asked, "How can I ever repay you?"

"You can't. But you can forgive as I have forgiven you," was his reply. "If you want to know true restoration, true freedom--then forgive."

She felt small again, traveling that narrow road called forgiveness. The journey was long but not impossible. He came with her. Walked ahead and sometimes carried her over dangerous passes. But, they made it and He stepped aside so she could offer her gift--forgiveness--with open hands.

Her gift offered became her gift received--freedom. She felt new deep down inside--heart new.

All this raced through her mind, still staring at her name. "How do you speak my name, God? What do you sing over me?" she dared.

God spoke, "Every day is new, pure, bright. You are all things new. Crawl upon my lap and watch me write your story on pure, white pages--words written in love, with my Son's blood. You see, your story begins new. Through Jesus, all things are new. You are new."

"Then He who sat on the throne said, 'Behold, I make all things new.' And He said to me, 'Write, for these words are true and faithful.'” Revelation 21:5