It's More Than Just Sunday Dinner

"Remember today that your children were not the ones who saw and experienced the discipline of the Lord your God: his majesty, his mighty hand, his outstretched arm; But it was your own eyes that saw all these great things the Lord has done." (Deuteronomy 11:2,7)

Tagging along at the end of the baby boomers I barely recall the significant days of the free-lovin', drug tokin', party hoppin', bell-bottom wearin' generation. The closest I came to resembling anything from the '60's was the one pair of brown bell-bottom, hip-hugger jeans I wore that sported huge, white daisies all over them. Thank goodness I grew out of those in a year!

The '60's may have been a tumultuous decade, but as a kid, I never knew it. It's not that my family resembled the Cleavers from the '50's reruns of "Leave it to Beaver" on T. V. where life was never more difficult than a bad grade on a report card! But, like them, we'd gathered 'round the Sunday dinner table to share life and a good meal with those we loved most. Although we didn't live close to many relatives, my parents grew to love a few friends near by as though they were family. It was with those dear friends that we'd gather every week. We'd reconnect on every level from worshiping together to sharing stories over dessert or washing dishes.

When my own children started marrying, moving out of the house, and establishing families of their own I realized staying connected had to be a deliberate action. I didn't want to be that control freak mom or, God forbid, that overbearing mother-in-law but I did want to see my kids and grandchildren often. Even though I don't find joy in cooking, I do enjoy my children. So, hanging onto my Sunday dinner memories, I thought, "If you feed them, they will come," and I asked my kids if they'd like to establish a Sunday dinner tradition. Surprisingly, everyone looked forward to it.

Our first family Sunday dinner was last fall and except for an occasional weekend trip or event, our kids haven't missed a beat since! We've come to covet our time together and don't let anything take its place. When someone does have to miss out or come late, there's a heavy heart because this family connection has come to mean so much. We've establish a home; a place where we can be ourselves, share our hearts, our faith, tell stories from the past, dream about the future and everyone knows they're safe and they're loved.

God created life around family. He gave us the desire to make family connections from the very beginning of time. It's through the family that He intended His story to be shared with the next generation.

I cringe when I hear parent's say, "I don't want to force my religion (faith) on my kids. When they get older, they can decide for themselves if they believe in God, or not." My question for them is, "How can they believe in what they've never known?" How will they know unless we teach them?

Children learn everything by what we say and do; by what we don't say and don't do. The message of our lives, our beliefs are crystal clear to them. God knew this. That's why, in Deuteronomy, He says, "...your children were not the ones who saw and experienced the discipline of God...but it was your own eyes..."! In other words, our children won't grow up knowing God's story unless they hear it from us! What better time to share our faith than over a meal?

It's more than just Sunday dinner that holds our family together. It's our common bond of faith in God woven into everything we do.

Magic Wand or Magic Eyes?

"The Lord does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart."
1 Samuel 16:7

If life were like the fairy tales we grew to love as children, I believe that magic wands would be a hot commodity. Spouting a spiffy phrase and with a flick of the wrist our reality could be changed to suit our own desires. Wouldn't that be glorious? We could be the masters of our own destinies! We could control our own universe! Think of all the possibilities!

Remember that guy who cut you off in traffic this morning? Presto! He's now a squashed toad in the middle of the interstate. Oh, and your boss who seems to be less than fair when handing out accolades? Presto! She's been fired and replaced by someone who can't stop singing your praise! What about your kids who refuse to do as you say? Presto! They're the national poster children for the "honor your mother & father" campaign. And, that friend who talked behind your back yesterday? Presto! She's now come down with a permanent case of laryngitis.

Okay...the sadistic side of my evil self is showing. But, honestly, don't we all think in these cartoon images sometimes when people wrong us? Isn't inflicting pain for pain something we tend to want when we've been hurt, humiliated or angered? Or, don't we find ourselves wanting to change the negative realities of a wounding experience instantly into a fairy tale ending where everyone loves us and we live happily ever after?

That's not reality. People hurt us. We are wounded. We do experience pain. We bleed. There's no such thing as a magic wand that can change our world instantly. But, we do have choices. One choice is to allow our wounds to bleed, fester, become infected with poison and kill us (spiritually or physically). The second choice is to ask for magic eyes!

"Hold on!" you exclaim. "You just said there's no such thing as a magic wand! But, you now tell me to ask for something even more ridiculous, like magic eyes?!"

Yes, magic eyes. They're not literally new eyeballs that you insert into your head. It's all about perspective! It's best said in a short story called "The Magic Eyes: A Little Fable" included in the book "Forgive and Forget" by Lewis B. Smedes. Here is an excerpt:

"There was one remedy, (the angel said), only one, for the hurt of a wounded heart. Fouke would need the miracle of the magic eyes...a new way of looking at things through magic eyes could heal the hurt flowing from the wounds of yesterday.

"Fouke protested. 'Nothing can change the past,' he said....

" 'Yes, poor hurting man, you are right,' the angel said. 'You cannot change the past, you can only heal the hurt that comes to you from the past. And you can heal it with the vision of the magic eyes.'

" 'And how can I get your magic eyes?' pouted Fouke.

" 'Only ask, desiring as you ask, and they will be given you.

"Fouke could not ask at once, for he had grown to love his hatred. But the pain of his heart finally drove him to want and to ask for the magic eyes that the angel had promised. So he asked. And the angel gave.

"Soon Hilda (his wife) began to change in front of Fouke's eyes, wonderfully and mysteriously. He began to see her as a needy woman who loved him instead of a wicked woman who betrayed him."

Like the angel in this fable, God grants us a viewing of others as He sees them, through His magic eyes. When the pain of our hearts drives us to want God's magic eyes, all we need do is ask. Then, and only then, will our wounds begin to heal.

"What?! The Curtains?!"

" 'Test me on this,' says the Lord God Almighty, 'and see if I will not throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that you will not have room enough for it.' " (Malachi 3:10b)

One of the first "official" dates we had, Peter took me to see "Monty Python and the Holy Grail." I quickly found out, sitting next to him in the lounge-style, Jerry Lewis Theater, that British humor is a bit, shall we say, "off." I could barely understand their accents, let alone catch the punch lines or make sense of the plot. But, it's one of those classic quotable movies, filled with one-liners that seem funnier hours after you've left the theater.

Our favorite scene is where Sir Lancelot is trying to convince his son Herbert there are benefits to marrying a girl of which Herbert has no interest. They're standing in front of an open castle window, curtains blowing and Sir Lancelot surveying the land outside says, "One day lad, all this will be yours!"

"What? The curtains?" asks Herbert.

"No, not the curtains, lad! All you can see stretched out over the hills and valleys of this land. That'll be your kingdom, lad," Sir Lancelot explains.

Weeks have passed since I mentally put away the knights, the pawns, my queen and the king of my cosmic chess board. I'm not playing games anymore. So, prayerfully, I've placed our full tithe in the offering plate for over a month. God has stood next to me at the open window of my heart and said "Test me in this...test me to see if I will not provide for all your needs and bless you beyond your imagination." I wasn't interested in testing God. There were enough examples in my past that pointed to His faithfulness. I just wanted to put aside my fears, be obedient and trust Him for everything. I mean, EVERYTHING...even the curtains.

The same curtains have hung in my living and dining rooms for twenty-two years! I know this because my daughter-in-law asked my son a couple weeks ago, "How long has your mother had these curtains?" He replied, "They're the only curtains I've ever known." Oh my! I knew they were old, but I'd never counted the years until that moment! He turned twenty-two a few weeks ago.

I've been meaning to buy new curtains for quite some time, especially after the last washing when the ball fringe started falling off. So, with God's promise of provision engraved on my heart, I stood under the archway between the two needy rooms a few days ago and said, "Lord, I don't have the money to buy new curtains, but I know you do. I'm trusting you to provide."

That afternoon my mother-in-law dropped in and unknowingly asked me if I could use some curtains. She wasn't fond of some she'd purchased last year but she thought they'd look nice in my downstairs rooms. I answered, "What?! The curtains?!" Not only did she have enough curtains to replace the weary ones, there's even more to go into my new office whose windows have remained bare since spring!

It's such a little thing, curtains that is, in the bigger scope of our financial needs. But, to me, it was a big thing. God says, "Test me in this..." He is faithful even with the littlest of needs.

Cosmic Chess Game

"The thief comes only to steal, kill, and destroy but I have come that they might have life and have it to the full." John 10:10

I use to think that tithing was like playing a cosmic chess game with God. I thought God would bless me according to how much I gave. If I didn't give enough or anything at all then I'd coward away from God expecting some crisis to hit my household the next week. You know those crises: the dishwasher and the washing machine break within moments of each other and that routine $25 oil change for the car turns out to be $1000 repair!

It was times like those that I'd spin my head heavenward, arms raised above my head, shaking my clenched fists at God screaming, "What's up with this? If I can't afford to give you enough, why do you keep taking more from me than I ever have to give?!! How does that work, God?!"

I'd get angrier with all of the taking. I'd stop giving all together until I heard another tithing sermon. Again, I'd sit and listen for something I may have missed all the other times. Again, I'd try to give what I could (less than 10% God asks) because that's all I could bring myself to trust God. Again, the cosmic chess game began until God called "Check mate!"

That's how it was until a month ago. My pastors began a series called "Kingdom Economics." That first Sunday I settled into my pew for the "tithing sermon" and mentally pulled out the chess board. I started setting up my imaginary pawns, knights, my queen and the king. Once my side was setup I noticed that God's side remained empty. His chess pieces were still in the box.

"Hmmm," I thought. "Not interested in playing this time, God?" No response.

I listened more intently to the pastor and nearing the end of his sermon based on an all too familiar scripture, (Malachi 3:6-14) he said something I'd never heard before: "When we tithe 10% of our income, 90% of our income is submitted to multiply under God's (umbrella) of blessing. When we don't tithe (at all), 100% is open to the Robber, the Destroyer, the Devourer, Satan himself! Our blessings are not protected by God...Satan will steal all of your increase!"

At that moment I cleared the chess board of all my pieces and put the game board back into it's imaginary box. It wasn't God's cosmic chess game I was being forced to play. It wasn't His chess pieces on the board all these years! I'd been playing a cosmic chess game with my Enemy!

G P S

"...he has turned away from me and has not carried out my instructions."

1 Samuel 15:11b

I think the GPS is the greatest invention since....I don't know...indoor plumbing?!! (I didn't want to say sliced bread). For someone who is directionally challenged it's been a huge help.

Back in the dark ages of 1978 when I first got my licence I remember the angst I felt when all I had to rely on was my parent's written directions. Since my father was a truck driver, they were always great directions but he assumed I'd paid attention to where all the streets were in town (and all the surrounding towns from here to Maine) all my years as his passenger! I remember his frustration with me when I'd have to ask for the same directions over and over again. Finally, after a few weeks the streets became familiar and I could cruise around town on my own with confidence.

Then, I graduated to maps! I hate maps! They're like reading a foreign language. Did I tell you I was directionally challenged? Do you know what it's like to try to read a map when you can't locate your destination on the map? Do you know what it's like to do all that while you're driving...alone...on an interstate? Not happening! So...if I got lost (which, thank God never happened) I'd have to pull off the highway, find a gas station, physically get out of my car and ask for directions from the gas attendant. Also, not happening!

Most of my successful map reading took place from the passenger seat after meeting my husband, Peter. We love traveling by car especially to places we've never been before. Peter's got a great sense of direction (hallelujah) but there were times he's needed me to navigate off a map. Again, frustration showed up when he'd have to point out where we were and where we were going before I could make any sense out of where we were.

Finally, on our last trip to Orlando, Florida we were introduced to my friend, GPS! What a pleasure it was to travel with her! She had a soothing yet confident voice that successfully guided us to every destination without one drop of sweat from our brow (or armpit). Even if we took a wrong turn, she redirected our path with her reassuring phrase "recalculating route." We learned quickly that she would constantly repeat that phrase until we followed her directions and got back on track. We also learned, rather quickly, where the mute button was located. We could choose to ignore GPS and go our own way. That's not to say we wouldn't find our destination if we continued to ignore GPS. Sometimes there were more scenic routes we preferred or we'd found a faster route but they weren't always the best route.

It was the same for king Saul in the Old Testament (see 1 Sam. 13-15). God gave him specific instructions on what to do to succeed in battle. But in the heat of it all he questioned God's timing. He thought his ways were better. Sure, he won the battle. Sure, he got to his destination. Sure, there was great celebration. Sure, he plundered great wealth. But, he deviated from God's plan. He followed his own directions and took credit for it all. That's when he lost everything. Here's what Samuel tells Saul in 1 Samuel 13:13-14

" 'You acted foolishly,' Samuel said. 'You have not kept the command the Lord your God gave you; if you had he would have established your kingdom over Israel for all time. But now your kingdom will not endure; the Lord has sought a man after his own heart and appointed him leader of his people, because you have not kept the Lord's command.'"

It's like that when God give us clear directions isn't it? He maps out our route and if we follow it we get to His planned destination. But, if we veer off His path, taking everything into our own hands, He'll warn us a few time, like the GPS, "recalculating route." If we get down-right arrogant about choosing our own route to get there, God will mute himself and leave us to get there on our own. We might reach our destination thinking we accomplished something great but we may have missed out on God's mission altogether. God's mission will still be accomplished, just not by us. We end up losing it all.

Have you received clear directions from GPS (God's Planned Strategy)? Are you staying on course, listening for that familiar voice? Has the phrase "recalculating route" been muted and you're now following your own directions? If so...STOP! Un-Mute! Let God recalculate your route before you lose it all!

Get Ready... Position Yourself

"...Samuel called to Saul on the roof 'get ready' and I will send you on your way." (1 Samuel 9: 26 NIV)

July marked the end of the dreary, rainy, trapped-inside-the-house days. Living here in New England our summers are short and frankly, by the end of June, I felt cheated! But alas, as sure as June turned into July, summer finally appeared. The long-awaited days of sun, heat and humidity were welcomed like a long-lost friend.

Each day the sun kissed my cheek I felt beckoned to play outside and reacquaint myself with God's beauty. It's those sun-kissed days that God feels especially close. It's as though He inspires, teaches, speaks through his creation directly to my soul. Whether it be a lesson in abiding taught by a patient, fluttering monarch perched on the blossom next to my lawn chair or understanding his divine plan of sowing and reaping by tending to my vegetable garden, I know God is speaking.

Sometimes God is more direct. The Sunday before I was to attend the She Speaks writer's conference I attended church without my husband, Peter. As the worship service ended and the pastor was introducing his sermon he said God had given him a lot of words for people during his prayer time that morning. Luckily, I had already opened my journal and was ready to write. I mean, if God had spoken I wanted to record everything he said! Then, the pastor looked directly at me and said, "Dawn. I don't know where Pete is but the Lord spoke to me in the prayer room about you guys and somebody else got these words that I think are applicable...'Get ready and position yourselves.'" I not only wrote those words down, I promptly texted them to my husband!

In the three weeks that have followed those words have continually rung in our ears. "Get ready...position yourselves." For what, Lord? My new book? A new opportunity? Spiritual warfare? A good hunt for Pete? What? What could God possibly have in store for us?

Then, today God lead me to read 1 Samuel 9 & 10 that tells the story of Samuel anointing Saul to be Israel's first king. Samuel instructs Saul to "get ready" to be sent. Getting ready isn't passive. It's active. You're making preparations, getting things together, doing the necessary things in order to go.

Once Saul is ready, Samuel gets him alone, anoints his head with oil and prophesies over him. Samuel explains that Saul will come to the land of Gibeah where he will meet some prophets. The Holy Spirit will empower him and he will prophesy as well. But, most importantly he "will be changed into a different person." Then, Saul was to position himself in the land of Gilgal and "wait" seven days until Samuel meets up with him. Together they will worship God and Saul will receive further instructions.

I'm not exactly sure what God is preparing us for. I'm not sure if we're getting ready for the right task. But, until that task is revealed, we are readying our hearts, submitting our plans, our desires, our passions before our God. We're allowing change in ourselves and with each other. We are positioning ourselves before His throne and waiting for further instructions.

What is it that God may be readying your heart? Are you asking, what's next? Are you willing to get ready? Do you see the situation you're in as part of that readying process? Are you willing to let God change you? Are you positioning your heart to wait for further instructions?

Behind Every Good Woman...

We often take advantage of "Cheap Tuesday" at our local movie theater. My husband, Peter even sits through chick flicks with me now and again. A few years ago it was Julie & Julia. The movie is the story of Julia Child, best known for her 1960's televised french cooking show and Julie, a New York City woman who took a year to cook and blog her way through Julia Child's recipes.

I'm not at all passionate about cooking. In fact it's inconceivable in my mind how the words joy and cooking can be in the same sentence! But, I do like the actress Meryl Streep who played Julia Child and I like every role she's played. If I were honest, I really went to see Meryl.

Surprisingly, the movie was NOT about the love of cooking. Yes, it was about two women who loved to cook. Yes, they made outrageous dishes that made the audience drool but more importantly it was about two women whose passion could not be contained in a sauce pan. It was about the journey of sharing their passion through writing and the husbands behind their success. Now that's something I identify with more than cooking!

Writing has been a passion of mine since fifth grade. Back then, I wrote all the time. If I wasn't writing in my journal I was writing a letter to my cousin, my grandmother, or a long distance friend. I was happy just writing, writing, writing. But, what I lacked was direction, guidance, and mentorship. I've fumbled my way through a few internships in college but nothing that lended itself to any significant writing career choice. I settled for writing as a hobby - something I enjoyed but nothing I would ever be able to share.

Then a few years ago, a sweet woman placed a Proverbs 31 Ministry magazine in my hands. Part of the ministry of P31 is to mentor and train Christian women who have a passion to speak or write the words God has placed in their hearts for the encouragement of others. They do this through their annual She Speaks conference. As I read more about the conference I knew this was a divine appointment. For the first time, there was someone who understood my passion. There was an outlet to do more with it than just write in a secret journal that I kept to myself.

Much has happened since I first learned about She Speaks. My journey in my passion for writing took some funny twists through physical injuries, spiritual warfare, family crises, forgiveness and release. Through all of these turns, never once was I left alone to manage on my own. Never once was I allowed to let my passion to write dwindle. Like Julie & Julia, I too have been given the precious gift of a supportive husband. He nursed me to health, sacrificed financially, weathered heavy spiritual battles, courageously saw us through family crises, walked alongside me as I learned to forgive and praised God for the release of my heart's desire to write.

There isn't a day that goes by that I'm not thankful for God giving me such a loving, supportive husband who wishes only the best for me. Don't get me wrong, he's not perfect, but neither am I. Trust me, we have our ugly, stinky moments when we wonder what the heck were we thinking when we chose each other. But, in the big scope of our lives, when I see all the little things he does each day to show me he loves me: when he constantly encourages me to write, when I consider all that he does to point me toward Christ, when I witness God in Him then, I know I've been blessed.

The old saying goes, "Behind every good man is a loving, supportive woman." I say, it goes both ways. Thank you, Peter, for being a loving, supportive, godly man behind this woman! I love you.

The Guest List

"Then the angel said to me: 'Write: Blessed are those who are invited to the wedding supper of the Lamb!'" Revelation 19:9 (NIV)

Our daughter is getting married next spring. It's been an exciting month securing the church, the banquet hall, caterer and DJ. Our mouths have watered over the menu choices. We've "oooed and ahhhhed" over cake designs. We've joined in chorus trying to pick out the right songs for "Daddy's Dance", the cutting of the cake and what would accompany her in the throwing of her bouquet. We've pictured the hall all dazzled with lights, flowers, tulle, china and guests dining and dancing the night away.

Ah. The guests. We've got our initial guest list down, too. I hadn't thought much about what it meant to be an invited guest at a wedding when I made up my own guest list twenty-five years ago or when I've attended weddings since. But, being the parent and helping my daughter and future son-in-law create their guest list...it's been an awakening.

The people on your list are those who are most honored to you and the wedding couple. They're the people that mean the most to you, have invested the most, risked the most to be in relationship with you or the couple. It's odd but there's some people you don't even think twice about adding to the guest list. They're those friends or relatives that you spend the most time with, share your lives with, you're close to them. Then there's others you stop and ponder about for a few minutes. They're people you love. You'd be there for each other if needed but you don't necessarily spend a lot of time with them because of time or distance or circumstance. You may have been close at some point in your lives but now, not so much. But, in your heart, they should be honored with an invitation. They do hold a special place in your heart so they become part of the guest list as well.

Jesus has invited us to be an honored guest at His wedding supper. All who confess with their mouth and believe He is the Lord will be an invited guest. In fact we will collectively be His bride. What an honor. What a feast. What a celebration it will be!

The Chosen Lady

All women want to be "the chosen lady" who is admired, esteemed, and loved. We long to be noticed, to be loved and told we are beautiful. We work so very hard to look beautiful, to capture the attention of a handsome man so that he might ask us to be his chosen lady.

And low and behold, the years pass by and we find ourselves dedicated to little ones! What an honor, a privilege, a huge responsibility to mother a child. Some of us are fortunate to raise our own flesh and blood; children who were born of ourselves and our husbands. Others are also fortunate to have a huge heart and not only parent their own natural children but adopt children from another country as well.

I know of such a woman down south who's opened up her heart to adopt Ethiopian children..three to be exact. This goes beyond my expectations of being a mother. It redefines motherhood for me. It's hard enough to raise your natural children in the midst of all the unexpected events called life but reassuringly you know they're similar in emotional and physical make up as you and your husband. But, raising someone you don't have an inkling about emotionally or culturally is WOW love. It calls for major unconditional love that comes from somewhere other than yourself. It comes from the Creator.

I am following this growing family via the mother's blog. I am inspired to know the difficulties she has encountered and to see the strength God has instilled in her that goes beyond explanation. I see the faces of these children simply beaming with joy to be in her arms, to be with a family and to know they are safe. I see the love they've been given by her and her husband and marvel how much it speaks in their faces.

She truly is "The Chosen Lady" in many respects. She came to my mind today as I read 2 John today. John addresses this second letter to "the chosen lady and her children, whom I love in the truth-and not I only, but all who know the truth..." Why did John address her (or the church figuratively) as the chosen lady? Because she (or this church) was living as one who obeyed God's command by walking in love. It was all over her. She loved her children and they reflected that love by loving in return.

I know my friend is loved in return. It's written all over her children's faces. And, they in turn will love others as she has shown them. I know it is her desire that her Ethiopian children will return to their country, full of her love but most importantly filled with the love of Christ and pour out that love to their own people. It will happen. She is God's chosen lady for these children. I'm privileged to watch from a distance and marvel at God's grace and mercy through her.

Wisdom For the Asking

Wisdom comes with age they say but I think wisdom comes from asking.

It seemed that from the time my babies were newborns to age five life was slow paced, boring at times. There was a daily routine consisting of food, clean, dry clothes, playtime, baths, bedtime stories and sleeping. And, that didn't change much except when there was a holiday or vacation. Their needs were simple. Their curiosity satisfied with my mommy wisdom (anything tough was passed onto the one with daddy wisdom).

Then they started school. Their routines and needs changed. Their curiosities heightened with new found friends, experiences, teachers. My mommy wisdom (and daddy wisdom) were stretched. Teacher wisdom sometimes won them over more convincingly than mine. They began to form their own opinions and beliefs and challenge mine.

Somewhere between kindergarten and the end of ninth grade I realized my opinion, my mommy wisdom was being challenged quite regularly. They were no longer satisfied with the "because I said so" reasoning nor did they look up to me as infallible. In fact my wisdom was counted as a loss on their scales.

But, a funny thing happened on their way past graduation. Life.

(Now, I'll stop here to say that this is not your typical "when your kids turn 21 they think you know everything again" article).

Life has a funny way of pulling you into reality...quickly...breath-takingly quickly, at times. One day I'm their mommy changing diapers and the next minute I'm helping them buy their first car, helping them try on their wedding gown, move into their first apartment, and suddenly I'm rocking their baby to sleep. My children are still asking me questions, but now they're questions that I'm still struggling to find the answers to myself! Where's the wisdom? What do I know? How can I possibly help them through life?

It's been a week of "life happ'ning" around here. It's been overwhelming at times. Anxiety has tried to sneak in. Wisdom feels lost. I sit in quiet for a few moments wrapped in my favorite afghan. (Thank you sweet hubby for those moments)! I cried a bit, prayed a lot and asked for His wisdom.

James 1:5 puts it this way, "If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him." (NIV)

Life cannot be done alone. No one has all the answers. But, we can know the source of all things and ask God to give us his wisdom. James promises that He will give wisdom generously to everyone who asks...no strings attached.

Thank you, God for being generous with your wisdom...beyond my abilities, for wisdom for my children beyond their years.

Shhhhhhhhhh

My favorite time of the day is when I'm alone in the morning before my family awakes, before the noise of the breakfast dishes are clinking or the cars start swooshing by on the street outside my house. I love to grab a single cup of coffee and head back upstairs to my office, close the door behind me and sink down into my winged back chair. It's my sanctuary of peace and quiet. Sometimes I'll just sit for a few minutes, close my eyes, soak in the aroma of that flavored coffee (hazelnut or vanilla) and just let the absence of noise flood my heart. Then when my mind is focused on nothing, all the cares of the day before me are yet to be important, I hear God gently whisper to my soul. "It's good to see you."

We sit in quiet conversation, just me and Him. I share my thoughts. He listens. He shares his thoughts in a whisper or through scripture. I listen. All the while in perfect quiet. Sometimes neither one of us says a word. It's just a presence of peace, knowing He's there just spending time with me.

Then the quiet is pierced. The alarm sounds from my husband's bedside table. The shower is running. Breakfast dishes start clinking and cars are swooshing on the street outside. I bid my adieu to my quiet friend and head into the busyness of another day. But somehow, there's this peace that envelopes me knowing that he hasn't left my side.

Get Wet

The rain has surely been plentiful in the northeast this June. According to the weather report last night it's the second rainiest June on record, the last being in 1914. I don't like to be caught in the rain. It's wet and I don't like getting wet when I'm supposed to be dry. My husband thinks it's the funniest thing that I don't like to get wet. I only like to get wet when I'm planning on getting wet like diving into a pool or taking a shower. Those are planned moments of drippyness. I don't like it when it's unplanned...like getting caught in a downpour or when the hose is leaking down my arm when I'm just trying to water my plants or wash the car in the driveway. Those times of unplanned wetness means more work for me: changing my clothes, drying and restyling my hair. It's a nuisance and to me, a waste of time.

However, I do like what rain produces when it pours down in consistent and right amounts. It produces mature, healthy, beautiful plants both for beauty and nourishment. I love that I've turned my desk to face the back yard this spring even though most days I've been peering out at rain. At least I've been able to enjoy a birds-eye-view of my flower gardens. It's been the only way to witness the blooming pink blossoms of my fairy roses and the greening of the butterfly and hydrangea bushes. I know that when the sun reappears (and it will) my eyes will be blessed with their full blooming color. My mouth will taste the harvest of flavors from my herbs and vegetables. The rain will have served its purpose to feed the land so that it may be a blessing to us.

Paul says in Hebrews 6:7-8 "Land that drinks in the rain often falling on it and that produces a crop useful to those for whom it is farmed receives the blessing of God. But the land that produces thorns and thistles is worthless and is in danger of being cursed. In the end it will be burned." We are the land that drinks in God's word so that we will be a blessing to those we serve; our family, our neighbors, our co-workers, strangers...anyone that enters our life. The key is that we must drink of the rain that falls. We must swallow (not just taste) a regular dose of God's word in order to produce God's crop of fruitfulness. If we don't drink we become a parched land that will only produce thorns and thistles which are useless in His kingdom.

I met a second grade teacher at an author's meeting last month. She's thinking of writing a book entitled "Are Your Prickles Showing?" or something like that. She tells the story of one of her students who normally is kind and very polite coming to class one day in a very bad mood. He took his mood out on everyone around him so she asked him, "Are your prickles showing today?" I thought what a great illustration of how we are when we take our bad mood out on those around us. It's like everything we say is sharp like a thorn and prickly like a thistle.

Are you a source of beauty and flavor to those around you? Or are your prickles showing? If the latter is true then it's time to get wet in God's word and let His words soak into the soil of your heart.

Duck Feathers

Ahhhh...a sense of accomplishment finally fills the hole anxiety has dug into my stomach these past few weeks. I've written, edited, rewritten and submitted a new children's story for a work-for-hire project. It was a lot of fun once I set my feet firmly under my writing desk and started honing in on the storyline. It was like laying next to my kids making up stories again to help them fall asleep.

Have you ever taken the time to make up your own bedtime stories? I used to think it was a bother some nights because I was so tired. I craved the quiet, alone time with my husband after a long day playing with my kids. But, now I long for all those snugly moments and long good nights. I think of all our bedtime stories and wonder if my kids will tell them to their children some day?

There was one story my son favored about a floating white duck feather. If he wanted me to tell this story I had one rule he had to follow: keep you eyes closed the whole time...no peeking! Of course I'd start out with "Once upon a time..." and continue the story, pretending my hand was the floating white duck feather. At the right time in the story, when the feather was about to land, I'd gently let my fingers fall over his face, down his arms and over his hair. It really helped him to relax and soon he'd be fast asleep. I don't exactly remember the ending. I think it changed every time I told the story. That didn't matter, though. It was a relaxing story that got him to sleep every time.

Ideas for stories are found everywhere. I think I got the idea for the floating feather story from watching the movie "Forest Gump." Remember when Forest is waiting for his school bus? A white feather starts floating down from the sky and lands at his feet when he gets up to walk on the bus. I always thought, "Now there's a story in that feather, somewhere." So I made one up.

When I speak with older students about becoming an author I say, "Writing a book is like telling a story and everyone has a story to tell." I'm not sure how I came up with this quote; if it's mine or someone elses' idea, but I like it. Whenever I find myself with no ideas or writer's block begins to set in, I remember that story ideas are everywhere!

So, what story do you have to tell?

Light

Light. It seems something that's scarce this month. I think this has been the darkest, gloomiest, rainiest June I have ever experienced or that I can recall in recent years. The winter was especially long and stormy and this ol' New Englander is gettin' kinda crabby as the storms keep me housebound a bit longer than usual. It's averaged maybe one day of sunshine a week for the past 4 weeks and trust me those days I've spent outside soaking up any rays of sunshine I could. It didn't matter what was on my schedule, if it was sunny, I canned the plans and sat in the sun to renew my hope that summer is just a few days away!

The Israelites lived for 400 years in spiritual darkness before Christ was born. The prophets were silenced. Their hope for a future, for the promised Messiah seemed lost. God never spoke. Not once until the appointed season when he spoke of sending the Messiah, Jesus to earth. And though Jesus was birthed according to the prophets, announced with the light from the Star of Bethlehem, proclaimed to be the light of the world, people still chose to live in the darkness of unbelief with no hope. They didn't recognize him as their promised hope.

I love how Paul describes God's gift of Jesus in his letter to Titus 3:4-7 "But when the kindness and love of God our Saviour appeared (in Jesus), he saved us...because of his mercy. He saved us through the washing of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit, whom he poured out on us generously through Jesus Christ our Savior so that...we might become heirs having the hope of eternal life."

When I read that today I couldn't help but picture God's tear drop as it fell from heaven in the scene of the crucifixion in Mel Gibson's, "The Passion of the Christ." It portrayed God's compassion for us and his sadness on his darkest day when he was completely separated by our sins from his only son. And yet, it was the beginning of hope for in a few days, in the light of dawn, the promise of life eternal would be revealed through his resurrection. Light would come again.

We find ourselves waiting for the Light to come again; to pierce the darkness of this stormy life. We might get crabby waiting for it but we do have hope. The Light will come again "at the appointed season", just like He promised.

Immeasurably More

This morning I sit with scattered post-it-notes on my desk, thoughts swirling in my head and deadlines on my calendar. There's inspired thoughts partially formed, typed and saved on my computer, nothing yet complete.My head wants to form the words and string them together into sentences and paragraphs but for some reason there's a struggle. Daily chores, interruptions, relationships that are all important demand my attention, move to the forefront of my mind and heart. Pushed aside are the words that were forming that perfect string of sentences and by days end I seem to have accomplished very little. I crawl into bed, pull up the covers, turn out the light and wonder "Do I really have what it takes?"

Waking early for some peaceful quiet time when the rest of my family is asleep I sneak into my office with coffee cup in hand. I savor every warm, delicious sip as I open up God's word searching for His direction, encouragement for today. My heart pines to know, "Do I really have what it takes, Lord?"

I read this, "I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power...to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge-that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God." (Ephesian 3:16-19).

Paul finishes, "Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations...!" (Ephesians 3: 20-21).

These are Paul's words, his prayer for his friends in Ephesus written thousands of years ago. But today, those are the Holy Spirit's words spoken on my behalf and taken to the throne of God. The Bible says there are times that we do not even know the words to pray and at those times the Holy Spirit is groaning and speaking our hearts' cry before the Father. Wow! What an enormous love God has for us that He has given us a part of himself, a friend who can speak what we cannot form with our own tongues; who is able to do more (immeasurably more) than we could even ask Him to do! This incredible power is actively at work in us!

So, "Do I have what it takes, Lord?" I ask.

"What you cannot do in your own power, I AM doing immeasurably more than you can imagine through you."

It's All In The Fruit

If asked to choose your favorite fruit, which would it be? I would choose the wild blueberry. Not the large type that grow on tall bushes in your back yard or in groves but the kind that grow between the rocks in Maine. They're smaller in size than their bushy relatives and don't need any added sugar to make them sweet. I like them freshly picked, frozen out of the bag, canned, jellied, preserved, baked in muffins, in pancakes, or my most favorite is a fresh-baked blueberry pie! I'd rather a blueberry "birthday pie" than any form of birthday cake ever! Unfortunately, my birthday falls in November when blueberries have passed by. I suppose I should think ahead from August to the fall and squirrel away a few cups as a gift to myself. But alas, I've yet to get them past my mouth and into the freezer!

When needing a blueberry "fix" I don't hop in the car and zip up north to Maine to pick a pint...that wouldn't be cost affective. Nor do I need to plant a bush, cultivate any soil, fertilize or weed, burn off the old dead brush, or rake the berries by hand. I just need to drive to the local produce market and shell out some cash. (However, I don't usually have a the choice of the small, wild, Maine-grown berries around here. I must settle for the larger, bush-grown Jersey or Florida brands. Non-the-less they are blueberries and my taste buds are satisfied). To market a wholesome, tasty berry or any natural food the natural pests and diseases must be controlled, fought-off and destroyed.

Now, isn't that the truth about the fruit of our lives? Paul mentions the natural fruits of our hearts in Galatians 5:19-21 which are: hatred, discord, jealousy, fits of rage, selfish ambition, dissensions, factions and envy, to name a few. These are the weeds, the pests, the parasites, if you will, that cause disease in our souls. Already I'm not likin' myself as I identify with some of my own behaviors. What God desires is totally opposite of what is in our hearts! Yaowzah! (My coin word for Yikes).

Luckily, Paul does not leave us hopeless but spells out the healthy fruits that can be produced in Galatians 5:22-23 “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.” If our lives produce a harvest of these fruits we know the soil of our hearts and souls have been properly cultivated. But, it’s hard work. It takes discipline because these fruits are not part of our nature. These fruits are transplanted into our hearts as we allow the Holy Spirit to transform us from the inside out.

It's NOT about what WE can do on our own. No matter how many times a week we pluck the weeds from the garden of our hearts, they reappear. It's all about the transformation of the seeds...becoming a new creation. Where do we start? Paul says in Romans 12:2 "Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind." It doesn't matter what we look like on the outside or what we do to prove ourselves holy. It's about giving up what comes naturally; laying it down, constantly to God's control so that he can produce the proper fruit.

A Love Affair

Just when I thought I could not love my granddaughter any more than I do she does something to redefine my love limits. It has been an amazing journey this year to watch her grow from newborn to toddler but more amazing has been to witness the love affair between her and my son. There's a sweetness, a special unspoken bond between them that words cannot sufficiently express.

Even though we live close by and visit with them often, it's those video clips they share that catch this love affair so perfectly. Just this week she has learned the art of climbing up and down off the couch independently. To Grams delight (that's me) I watched the clip of this new milestone at least 3 times in 5 minutes! The first time I watched it I was just thrilled to see her master her physical world and giggled at her awkward wiggles as she scooched her legs over they edge of the couch cushion and onto the floor. The second time I viewed it I was focused on what she was focused on...her dad coming home from work. As she was in mid-scooch you could hear my son coming in the back door. My granddaughter immediately sped up her scooches and pumped her little legs to hasten her descent to the floor. I heard my son proudly say in the background, "Can you climb off the couch by yourself now?!" And she answered with an excited, high-pitched squeal, "Dad!" If she could run, I'm sure she would have run into his arms by that time! (P. S. That's the sequel to this video clip)! The third time I played this clip just for pure joy of watching and hearing my son and his daughter love on each other.

Today I was finished reading Paul's second letter to the Corinthians. He ends it with what we call a benediction. It goes like this, "May the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ and the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all." Normally I wouldn't have thought twice about this little ending. But, today for some reason it got me thinking about how much God loves his children (us). If you think about it our whole journey with God is embodied in this benediction. The relationship with God, our creator, is defined so simply and yet so powerfully.

It is by grace, given through Jesus' earthly life, death and resurrection that we are birthed into relationship with God as pure and holy. It is because of God's love affair with us as Father that we are offered this grace so that we might participate in the fellowship of his Holy Spirit. More simply, that we might love God personally, intimately, continuously now and throughout eternity. God looks forward to that high-pitched squeal of glee from us when he comes in the back door. He desires our affection and devotion as much, if not more, than my son welcomes the same from his daughter.

Groanings For What Is Yet To Be

"Meanwhile we groan, longing to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling...so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. Now it is God who has made us for this very purpose and has given us the Spirit as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come...So we make it our goal to please him, whether we are at home in the body or away from it." 2 Corinthians 5:2,4b,5

Talk concerning leaving our earthly bodies is usually reserved for death bed discussions. We comfort ourselves or loved ones with the assurance that our dying brings hope for a future with Christ. We hold to the promise made in Scripture that in heaven there will be no suffering, no pain, no sorrow. We will shed this earthly shell and trade it in for a heavenly body, made whole and perfect in God's sight and for the purpose He intended.

If we are honest with ourselves we don't like to think about it much, let alone talk about leaving the comfort of our earthly "homes." It's what we know. It's what brings us comfort. It's what we've grown accustomed to and love, for the most part.

There's those perfect days that we enjoy the beauty of creation on a summer's day; the birth of a new child or the comfort of our lover's embrace. But what to do on those days that life is not so beautiful or perfect? Are those days the life we're promised forever? Who wants to stay in the midst of crisis or trouble?

We are deceived, even on the good days, to think this world is perfect as it is. It's not as it once was in The Garden or as God intended it to be. When in the midst of trouble our hearts are then pressed to wonder if there's more to life than this?

Paul knows-he is confident-that in the hope of the resurrection of Christ our earthly homes will pass away. These shells we call our own-our bodies we've grown accustomed to-will someday be discarded, returned to dust. Or, perchance we will be fortunate to witness our transformation, in an instant when He returns? So, if we place our hope in Christ these earthly homes we should not love more than the One who will transform them into His likeness; the One who now prepares our eternal homes.

It's hard to put our faith in things we aren't sure about or haven't seen with our own eyes. It's hard to think that on the sweetest days life could get any better. But Scripture says it will. What we see, what we know now is only a foretaste of what is yet to be and for all eternity.

"We live by faith and not by sight...So, we make it our goal to please him, whether we are at home in the body or away from it." 2 Corinthians 5:7,9

Renewed Day By Day

"...inwardly we are being renewed day by day."

2 Corinthians 4:16b

Renewed, regenerated, revived. These words create images of life born anew. It was (is) my prayer that the words God inspires me to write would breathe life into the readers' hearts and give them hope that each "New Day" promises.

The entire passages in 2 Corinthians 2-4 Paul is writing to encourage the faith in those he loves in Corinth. He is a prolific (sometimes confusing) writer but a communicator nonetheless and he undoubtedly inspires and humbles me in my passion for words. In these passages he uses communicative words like "speaks" and "writes" which my ears automatically tune into:

"...in Christ we speak before God with sincerity, like men sent from God." (2 Cor. 2:17b)

"...you are a letter from Christ...written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets of human hearts." (2 Cor. 3:3)

I am humbled as I feel the weight to speak and write responsibly with a heart that has first been searched by God. My words, my opinions, my thoughts are nothing important, but God's Word transforms and renews man's heart. My job is to encourage my readers to look to Him for their renewal...day by day.

"Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." (2 Cor 4:16-18)

In the scope of God's sight, the world is a small place. No trouble too overwhelming, or too small; no person too famous or insignificant. Isn't it a humbling thought that we have a God who cares and loves us so intimately when you look at the world from far away? So my encouragement for you today is that wherever you are, whatever you do may you be renewed by seeking God.

Toy Box Memories

It seems when my children leave home for any extended length of time I take the liberty to rummage through their rooms (with permission, of course) change things around, clean things up and get things in order before their return. So, with my daughter on another continent, I chose to rummage through her closet (once belonging to her brother) in search of buried treasure! Through yards of glittered tulle, piles of discarded shoes, pocket books, bunny bedding, childhood games and such, I found it. There it was...a green and white deep, plastic rectangle with a royal blue cover! I'm sure if you bore children in the '80's you'd recognize it in a second! Yup! The "Little Tike's" toy box...buried in the same corner of the closet that it had been sitting in for the last 22 years.

Rearranging the pile o' stuff on the closet floor and struggling just a bit I managed to pull it out and expose its content. I chuckled as I reached in for the yellow drum filled with a host of MacDonald's Happy Meal toys. Oh! I couldn't even get rid of those at a tag sale years ago! Here they were again! Now I couldn't bring myself to throw them away for every toy meant a special memory or celebration with my kids. Next a set of musty, cloth baby blocks hand-made by Grandma. They once were proudly displayed alongside a vase of blue and white carnations on the altar table at church to celebrate my son's first birthday. She always made simple things so special. There was a wooden train trestle and train station stashed in their worn cardboard boxes. Oh how he loved to play with that train set for hours figuring out how to make different traffic patterns with the track pieces. Finally I found his Match Box cars neatly snuggled in their designated parking spots inside two "Hot Wheels" carrying cases.

With my heart full of motherhood reminiscing I emptied that plastic treasure chest and transported each toy carefully to the toys-in-waiting box up in the attic. (That's the box filled with my children's toys I could never part with that I have saved for my grandchildren and great nieces and nephews when they come to visit). Some have made their way back down from the attic in recent years what with all the new babies in the family. Hence, the reason for my treasure hunt to the back of my son's closet. The toys have begun to pile up in the living room, again...so much so that they need to be contained inside a toy box.

This past Sunday we celebrated my granddaughter's first birthday in our back yard. She's my son's first born. When once as his mother I couldn't wait to put toys inside that box at the end of a long day of play I now ache to take them out again. I sit for hours without tiring (well, maybe I tire a little) and watch his daughter play. Now, I leave the dirty dishes in the sink, ignore the buzzing of the dryer, put off folding of the clothes to drink up all the time making new toy box memories with her. Everything and everybody else can wait!

Joyful, Patient, Faithful

"Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer." (Romans 12: 12)

Life happens. Circumstances change for the better. Some for the worse. People change. Some for the better. Some for the worse. We change. Sometimes for the better. Sometimes for the worse. Life presents us all with situations that shake us at the core. Everything we knew for certain the day before is now in question.

That day for me was on a humid Saturday in August 1970. I was nine years old. My dad had just finished mowing the lawn and called my two older sisters and me outside, one-by-one for a "talk." What he said was so significant, so life changing that even what he looked like and smelled like is imprinted in my mind to this very day. He sat on the lawn, arms resting on his bent knees staring straight ahead as I took my place on the ground beside him. Then he said the words that would forever change me. "I don't love your mother anymore and I don't love Jesus, either. I'm moving out today."

He moved close-by and I became "Saturday's child." We'd share the day just hanging out or shopping or doing activities that were never considered when he was home, like bowling. Occasionally I'd come home with a new present. One time it was a brand new banana bike! It was lime green with white flowers on the fenders and sported a white woven basket in front. I loved it! Finally, I could replace that old, rusted, hand-me-down bike of my cousins! Well, the joy was replaced with regret as my parents fought over the idea that my dad bought me something new "every week" but never bought my 19 and 16 year old sisters anything new. If I didn't like the bike so much, I'd of given it back just to make the screaming stop!

Seven years passed by. I'd grown out of my lime green banana bike but I was still his "Saturday child." Each night I'd pray that God would somehow fix my parents; bring them back together. All I wanted was a real family again. As each year passed I grew more and more disheartened and angry at my dad for walking out. On one of our Saturday's I'd had enough of this part-time father routine and ordered him to take me home. I'd lost hope that he could ever be a real father to me at all.

Fast forward 36 years. My parents remarried each other 27 years prior. Now it's April 2006. I'm at Mount Manadnock in Jaffrey, New Hampshire for a women's retreat. The topic for the evening is "God as Father (Abba)" and our assignment the next morning was to spend some time writing down all the things we learned from our earthly father that helped us in our relationship with our heavenly Father. My first reaction literally was, "Are you kidding?! I'm not doing this! I learned NOTHING from my dad that has ANYTHING to do with God!" Then I resolved, "Well...if I did learn anything from him, it wasn't much. It won't take long so let's get it over with God!" So I got up the next morning, shut myself alone in the corner of a vacant room, opened my journal and began to write my thoughts.

At first my thoughts were just spouting words of anger that God would put me in such a position to face this painful childhood all over again. And then in my ranting He whispered, "Are you done? Now let me show you what I see in your dad." I wrote for an hour filling pages in my journal with positive lessons I learned from my dad and despite my dad. God allowed me to see what He saw...my forgiven dad not the sinful dad that I was focused on. It was a significant hour of healing for my heart and over the next seven months I was able to forgive my father wholly and completely, face-to-face.

As I reflect on this story in light of Romans 12:12 I understand Paul saying "Be joyful in hope..." The hope of our future as our lives are transformed to what God intended once and for all because of the hope we hold in the death and resurrection of Christ. The word joyful in this text actually mean exuberant! We need to hold onto the hope that the good God sees in someone (including ourselves) will come to fruition someday. What we see through our eyes is not always the truth of what God sees through His.

Be "...patient in affliction..." Trouble comes. That's guaranteed! We can choose to be honed through trouble or become angry, resentful, unforgiving. Trust me, the latter is enslaving. Be patient in knowing God is in control and the best is yet to come.

Be "...faithful in prayer." I am amazed at how much God calls us to pray in scripture. He asks us to pray without stopping. He encourages us to ask Him for everything, even though He knows what we need. He just wants to know we love Him. I've also been startled to know that our prayers, conversations with Him can actually change His mind! Remember Joshua praying for God to stop time so that he could defeat his enemies? He prayed earnestly and God stopped time for him and Joshua claimed his victory. (Joshua 10:13). Over and over again in the recounting of the Kings of Israel, God would listen to the cries of the God-fearing kings and gave them protection, victories, life. I prayed countless nights for my father to return home. God was faithful.

Is it hard to see the good in a hopeless situation? Be joyful (exhuberant) in hope! Are you growing weary of waiting from trouble? Getting angry? Be patient in affliction! Do you feel like your prayers are hitting the ceiling and falling to the ground? Be faithful in prayer!

Beautiful Feet

"How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!" (Romans 10:15)

The sound of some one's footsteps can flood us with many different emotions. Close your eyes, if you will, and imagine the sounds of these feet.

The pitter-patter of tiny steps, deliberate yet unsure, awkward and uneven; a baby's first steps accompanied by squeals of joy and a parent's clapping hands. At that moment, the baby ceases to be and a toddler is born.

The clomp, clomp, clomping of tiny girl feet fashioning mommy's high heels in front of the full-length mirror in the bedroom upstairs.

The scramble-bump, scramble-bump as your sons wrestle each other to the ground.

The quick-paced, short stepping clippety-clop, clippety-clop, clippety-clop of your feared fourth-grade teacher coming down the high polished linoleum hallway.

The quiet tip-toed stocking feet climbing up the stairs of the wee morning hours. You can finally allow sleep to come knowing your teenager is home.

The crunch, crunch of your husbands feet alongside yours on a sandy beach at sunset.

The soft slippered shuffle of Grandma's feet across the carpeted bedroom.

The sound of these footsteps can bring us joy, conjure up fear, elude to romance, bring uncertainty for the future. Some footsteps we dread, like those of our feared fourth-grade teacher. Others we eagerly await like those of our beloved husband or wife and children.

What of the sound of Jesus' feet? We're told of Mary, the sister of Lazarus whom Jesus loved dearly and raised from the dead, twice washed Jesus' feet. The first time was at the Pharisee's home. He was reclining at the table for dinner and the owner of the home had not even offered to wash his feet which was the custom back then to clean the dust off the guests sandled feet. Yet Mary, in an act of unselfish love and repentance washed his feet with her tears, wiped them dry with her hair and poured perfume on them. Jesus recognizing her love as pure said to his appalled host:

"You did not give me a kiss, but this woman, from the time I entered, has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not put oil on my head, but she has poured perfume on my feet. Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven—for she loved much. But he who has been forgiven little loves little" (Luke 7:44-47).

Again, less than a week before Jesus was crucified, Mary annointed Jesus' feet with expensive perfume at another dinner table with his disciples and her brother. Judas was upset that she would waste such an expensive perfume on Jesus' feet instead of selling the perfume and giving the money to the poor. Jesus explained that we will always have the poor among us but that "...you will not always have me" (John 12:8).

Mary knew the joy of having Jesus near. She treasured the moments at his feet soaking up his wisdom, hearing the truth he spoke and abiding with him while she could. He brought her good news bearing life and not condemnation.

How are your footsteps? When your family hears your footsteps at the door each night do they look forward to greeting you? Do you bring good news that bears life? Do your footsteps bear the image of the One who gives life?

Dancing In Her Passion

My daughter is in Uganda, Africa! It seems so surreal. I've placed her on planes alone with her brother to Florida, with student groups to England twice...but Africa?! What was I thinking?!

Watching her prepare for this trip last week was like watching a young dancer take the spotlight on opening night. She was full of joy and excitement anticipating the days ahead of her despite the hard work and stress of finishing her semester of classes, papers and finals. She was finally center stage, dancing in her passion. The growing pains of waiting for this moment finally subsided and gave birth to her joy of purpose. For the first time in a very long time I saw my daughter come alive and in my heart I knew she was in her element.

She's been drawn to the Ugandan children who suffer as victims of war for at least two years after hearing their story in the documentary called "The Invisible Children." At first I thought her passion for Uganda would fade as she graduated high school and life changed all around her. But as each year passed her heart's cry became louder and louder...never fading. My prayers for her heart's cry became serious as I realized how passionate she was for these children and this country. If this call truly was from God than who was I to question? But, as a mother, I still wanted to protect and I did question. Slowly, I realized that if this was the Holy Spirit speaking to her I could no longer fear for her life. Instead I prayed for God's leading and anointing on her life and her insatiable desire for Uganda's children.

As I sit and reminisce about her as my little girl I realize she has always stood for righteousness, mercy and compassion. She's always taken risks; always been courageous and unwavering in the defence of truth even if it meant going against the crowd. These characteristics harnessed by God's power make for a woman who can travel to distant lands and mirror God's love, compassion and truth in love to those in desperate situations.

Is Uganda her destination? I don't know. Only God can make that determination. I know I may have given birth to this little girl but her heart was birthed for a foreign people, a distant land. This little girl...now a woman...dances in heaven's spot light following the lead of her Father.

Anticipation

When I was a child anticipation use to nearly kill me...especially at Christmas! It was my parents' favorite holiday and they would go to all lengths to build up the excitement in the house every year when we were young. It started with Christmas lists to Santa, spraying "snowflakes in a can"on the windows, playing Christmas carols all day long from Thanksgiving straight through New Years, stringing lights on the tree, placing pretty gift-wrapped presents under the tree (except for Santa's of course), baking cookies and culminated with our Christmas Eve celebration with the extended family. It was a glorious time!

One particular Christmas though, when I was seven years old, my mother delayed placing the presents under the tree for some reason. It was odd because she always loved displaying the wrapped gifts under the tree the whole month of December. In my seven-year-old mind I started to panic. "Will there be any presents under the tree at all on Christmas Eve? Did Mom and Dad forget about us? What about the toys I asked for? Will they show up?" It got to be the second week in December...Christmas was only a week away...and STILL the tree stood in my living room donned embarrassingly with only a skirt and ornaments. There were no packages. There were no bows or ribbons or anything but a dumb old white sheet wrapped around the tree trunk.

In our house 6 p. m. was a sacred hour. That's when my parents' sank down in their chairs in front of the television to listen to the evening news hour anchored by Walter Cronkite! I swear the whole house could be engulfed in flames and my parents would sit and watch Walter, totally engrossed in what he was reporting and ignorant of their own surroundings! They'd only believe it if they saw it on the news! Well, one particular news hour during my despondent Christmas, I took advantage of the 6 p. m. news hour and tip toed into their bedroom. That's where the secret stash of presents was usually kept. How I know this is another Christmas story.

So, there I stood, quiet as a Christmas mouse ready to snatch the cheese, staring at the door handle of their walk-in closet. I breathed a deep breath, held it in and quietly turned the squeaky door knob, praying the noise would not distract them from old Walter. As I opened the door ever so carefully, there before me was a mound of shopping bags! HUGE ones! Filled with presents! Yeah! There WERE going to be presents on Christmas Eve! Whew! What a relief! Now...what were they?! I just couldn't help myself. I'd anticipated way too long and before I could stop myself I was digging into the shopping bags and pulling out a plethora of treasures. There was play dough, coloring books, new crayons, play food for my NEW play kitchen! Oh my...and oh...those metallic gold Hollywood fur-adorned slippers I'd wanted! Oh I had to try those on! And there I was amidst these presents, adorned in metallic gold fur-adorned slippers inside my parents' closet celebrating an early Christmas...all by myself. I popped my head out of the closet and listened for Walter's familiar voice. "And that's the way it is..." he was saying. That meant he was signing off! Oh boy! So, I kicked off my slippers and scurried to put all the presents back in their bags just the way I'd found them. I darted out of the closet, closed the door and dashed across their bedroom into the bathroom and shut the door behind me.

For the next week until Christmas, the wrapped packages appeared one-by-one under the tree. Normally, I'd anticipate what might be in those packages but that year there was nothing to anticipate. I'd already seen what my gifts were going to be! What was there to hope for?

Paul reminds me of this anticipation, this hoping in Romans 8: 24b-25 "...But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently."

Of course Paul is not referring to material things like Christmas presents. He's talking about our redeemed life; that life that is without sin by the transformation of the life-giving, risen Christ. It's that life that in the Garden of Eden we gave up and from that point on all of creation has suffered the consequences of our sin but is promised to return when Christ returns. Don't you just groan for that redeemed life? Don't you anticipate the glory of what Paradise was and will be again?

And as we anticipate Paradise Paul says "...the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express" (Romans 8:26).

That Christmas I had nothing to hope for. It was one of my last Christmas snooping expeditions. I learned to wait patiently for what I hoped for. Each year I knew that the emptiness under the tree would soon be filled with gloriously adorned gifts. I just had to wait. So too with our longing and groaning for Paradise. I know that what I lack now, what I can't see will be transformed by God's crowning glory. I hope for what I can't yet see!