Moving Pictures

Moving Pictures is a poem I wrote a year or so after my parents passed away. I am blessed to have grown up in such a loving home with parents who taught me that life doesn't have to be perfect to be good, and neither does faith, so long as that faith is in a gracious God who loves his imperfect children with an oh so perfect love.

Moving Pictures

Familiar things
No longer common
Little nuances, small gestures
Gone from the every day world
Such inconsequential things
Once so numerous they cluttered my senses
And went unnoticed
Now counted and numbered
Like treasure grown more valuable with time
Not gone from my life
Just hidden away where,
Unlike treasures held in the hand
I can recall them easily
From flashes and small reminders
Of what I once took for granted
Imprinted like some rare film
Moving pictures with scent and sound
I close my eyes and wait, anticipating
While images emerge and voices echo
And…it is all there…
Loving eyes and gentle hands
Ageless faces, the first I knew,
Smiles and laughter, smells and tastes
Conversations-with words and without
Goodnight kisses and jigsaw puzzles
Lazy summer days in the shade
Tractor chugging in the distance
Cold winter evenings by the fire
Soft, deep voices, murmuring and chuckling
Love and humor and warmth and strength and
Joy, knowing they are with me still.

Thank you perfect Lord, for my imperfect parents who loved me and taught me to appreciate the unique imperfections in myself and those I love. Thank you for the one perfect truth that is Jesus, perfect Word made imperfect so he could be the perfect sacrifice for the sins of an imperfect world. Amen.

Giving Christ Control

This is a bit different from most of my blog entries. Today is our wrap-up celebration of our 12-week First Place 4 Health Group. As our final assignment, we are summarizing the benefits of committing 12 weeks to God, allowing him to transform us through this program and Bible study, "Giving Christ Control." We are looking at four specific areas for significant impacts: mental health, emotional health, spiritual health and physical health. We are also reflecting on the relationships we have formed during this time.


I have to say up front that I started writing my Lenten Blog about halfway through this 12-week journey, so the two experiences are woven together for me, and I cannot reflect on one without reflecting on the other. God has used both of these tools to transform me, and I am doubly blessed by his grace and timing.

I have realized I need to be more mindful of my thoughts and my words. At the same time I am trying to become a better listener, focusing less on my own thoughts and words and more on the other person talking. For the last few years I have been searching for ways to "be in God's presence." I think this Bible Study has helped me realize the irony of those efforts because all I really have to do is to just "be present." To be still and quiet, let the future stay in the future, let the past slip into the past, and just be present, be here and now,  BE and not always DO.  Believe it or not, this is the mental change I am experiencing. It's about controlling my thoughts, focusing on what is positive so I can be encouraged and encourage others.

Perhaps I have been most profoundly impacted by this study emotionally. You see, for some years now, I have been going through a "blue period" some time between Christmas and Easter. Some years I get depressed, sometimes I'm just quiet and reserved. It drives Jerry up the wall because he thinks I'm mad. It's hard to explain, but I think it's partly chemical effects of the long, dark winter days. However, my Mom passed away in January of 2000 and my Dad in December of the same year, and I think that's when it started. This year I have been able to work through it and have hardly been affected at all. I attribute this largely to the Bible Study, the group support and journaling. Of course improving my diet and increasing my exercise probably hasn't hurt either!

With regards to impacts to my spiritual health, I really cannot separate Bible Study from blog. However, I can say that FP4H and the Bible Study have helped me develop this vehicle for sharing my spiritual journey. Obviously the fact that we have been doing this program during Lent has added an even greater spiritual dimension to the process too.  The scripture readings, memory verses, and especially the group discussions have sparked many of the ideas I've explored on my blog. All of these are helping me understand the areas where I need to give Christ control. For instance, I'm developing a better appreciation of my prayer life. I am more equipped to take advantage of quiet time when it presents itself, to reflect on, listen to and breath in the Holy Spirit of Christ.

One of the main reasons I wanted to join this group was to see if it could really help me to lose a few pounds. My diet was already pretty healthy, but it was definitely too much of a good thing. I needed to get a handle on portion control, be more mindful about what and how much I was eating, and increase my exercise. Using the food tracker helped me get my diet under control, and Jerry's advice to step out of my comfort zone at the gym helped increase the intensity and duration of my workouts. My goal was to lose about 14 lbs (according to my bathroom scale), and as of last week, I had lost 15. I had actually convinced myself that I would probably never get that weight off. The bad news is, because I thought that, I got rid of all those clothes that were too little. Oh well. I'm not complaining. I'm thrilled that this was so easy, but that's what happens when we let Christ have control. I pray for his continued guidance to help me keep the weight off and stay healthy.

I first learned about the First Place 4 Health program from Cathy two years ago. I am in a small group with she and Leslie, and after seeing the transformation they underwent, mentally, emotionally, spiritually and physically, I wanted to try it. Now I can honestly say that FP4H is an awesome program, and with this Bible Study, it has enabled me to change and improve my mental, emotional, spiritual and physical health by giving God control and taking responsibility for my choices. But it just wouldn't work without the support of the group. Each person in this group has encouraged me and blessed me with their fellowship, their shared experiences, and especially their prayers. I have also had the privilege to share with, encourage and pray for them as well, and I am grateful for these friends old and new. I have to say that I have been most encouraged by my husband and partner, Jerry. I wasn't sure he would do this with me, but once he committed to it, he was completely on-board. We have done the Bible study lessons together each morning and have had a lot of really good discussions. We have been a real team, holding each other accountable and inspiring each other to step outside our comfort zones. I am blessed to be married to my best friend and to have been able to share this experience with him.

Thank you good and gracious Father, you always know what I need.  Help me to commit my will to yours every day, giving you control and letting you lead me through the dance of life. You have blessed me with a partner to share my life with. Continue to bless us and our relationship, reminding us we can always give if we first take time to receive, to be filled so we can be emptied, to be made useful like broken shards of clay in the hands of the Potter. Amen.

Jesus is the answer

I couldn't figure out what that funny sound was until I suddenly recognized the familiar ring of my cellphone. Who would be calling in the middle of Sunday School? I saw my daughter's name but thought it might have been my granddaughter Rebekah playing with the phone. "I'll call her back as soon as the class is over," I thought as I sat back down to finish the game the third-graders were playing. I felt a little uneasy because I knew she wouldn't have called unless it were an emergency, but the bell had rung and we were finishing up. When I saw Jerry through the window outside the door I knew something was wrong. I stepped out into the hallway and he gave me the news. Carlos, Rebekah's Daddy and Melissa's boyfriend, had been in a serious car wreck and had been taken to the ER. Melissa needed to drop almost-two-year-old Rebekah off on her way to the hospital.The next thirty minutes seemed like an eternity as I waited for them to get to the church. All kinds of thoughts were running through my head. How bad was Carlos hurt? Is he conscious or in pain? Is he going to survive? What if he has profound injuries? What will they do? He's a policeman, does he have insurance to cover his needs? He had just bought a house, will he lose it if he can't work? He and Melissa aren't married, what will happen to she and Rebekah? How will Melissa be able to cope with this, finish her last semester of college, and take care of Rebekah? Will she be able to cope emotionally? Will Carlos? Will this draw them together or drive them apart? Lots of questions, and I had no answers.

But Pr. Phil told us once that it doesn't matter what the question is, Jesus is always the answer. And the more that hinges on the question, the more we need to seek Jesus as the answer. So I prayed. I told Pr. Phil and asked him to pray for Carlos. I asked friends to pray. Van had Jerry and the Men's Group circle up outside where they were smoking chickens to pray. Within that 30 minutes, there were a lot of prayers being lifted. And I knew Carlos' family and friends were praying too. There's power in prayer, I know that. I also know the answer to prayer isn't always what we want it to be. This time it was. That tells me that God isn't through with Carlos yet, so I will continue to pray. I will pray that God's will be done because I know that he is a good and gracious God whose love for us and whose power and mercy are without bounds. He wants the best for us that life can offer: the best love, the best healing, the best relationships, the best forgiveness, the best gifts, the best peace, the best joy, the best trust, the best compassion, the best fellowship, the best faith, the best strength, the best humility, the best wisdom, the best of anything and everything. But we can only experience that best when we trust God and submit our will to his. I will pray for Carlos, for Melissa, for our family and for Carlos' family, that we never forget the gift we have been given. Maybe for Carlos, life will never be as easy as it once seemed, but maybe it will hold a different kind of value. It is still life, it is still a gift, and it is still full of possibilities because "Whatever is impossible with men is possible with God." ~Luke 18:28.

Today, in his Living the Lectionary blog, Pr. Phil wrote about Psalm 31. Used during Lent, it expresses the psalmist's suffering and hardships endured. But for every lament of sorrow the answer of Jesus steps in, turning them to statements of victory through faith. My question is, will I moan about my worries to a world that will at some point or other turn its back and disappoint, or will I carry my sorrows to the cross where Jesus beckons the weary to lay down their burdens and find rest? His promise is eternal and never-changing. Jesus is the only answer for those who truly want the very best life.

All praise to you Lord God Almighty. You who live and reign forever and ever. You are the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End and Everything in between. Fill me daily with the answer of your love and grace, even before I am faced with the questions of life. You are all I need to know to pass every test. Amen.

A matter of perspective

According to Swiss physician Paul Tournier, "There are two things we cannot do alone. One is to be married, and the other is to be a Christian." This quote was part of our FP4H lesson week before last. It put me in mind of a poem by John Donne, a 16th century English preacher who happened to be a poet. (My early English Lit Professor, Jim Colquitt would probably have argued that Donne was a poet who happened to be a preacher.) Donne wrote:

No man is an island, entire of itself
every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main
if a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were,
as well as if a manor of thy friends or of thine own were
any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind
and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls
it tolls for thee.

Donne believed that we are connected, so anything that affects one affects us all. The custom in his day was to ring a bell when someone died. So if the bell tolled, then it tolled for all, because everyone was affected by the death of one person. But that was long, long before radio, television or the Internet. We can sit in the comfort of our living room and watch news programs tolling the death bells for people and hardly be affected at all. It's all a matter of perspective, and our modern day perspective is nowhere near what John Donne's was.

So, if a tree falls in the woods and nobody is there to hear it, does it make a sound? Well, obviously it does. It is not in a vacuum, so it will create sound waves. But if those sound waves are not perceived by anyone, then it is not heard. Though it creates a crashing cacophony of noise, no person is affected by that tumult because they do not hear it. That's a matter of perspective.  But how many times are we surrounded by clamoring noise that we can't help but hear and we are still unaffected. Could that be a matter of perspective too?

What does Jesus teach us about perspective? Throughout the Gospel, we are reminded to not only hear Jesus' words, but to listen and perceive or understand them and allow them to affect us. Jesus had much to say and teach, and those who perceived--who listened--not just with open ears, but with an open heart and mind, were changed. Those like the Pharisees, who heard but did not listen/perceive were like rocks, remaining closed-hearted, closed-minded, and unaffected.

We are meant to be changed by the message Jesus brought of God's freely given gift of grace. We deceive ourselves by thinking for one minute that we can just say, "Oh cool, I'd like some of that free grace, add it to my shopping cart. Even if I don't have an immediate use for it, it's not costing me anything." Grace is not a one-way street. If we think we've accepted it, but are not affected, not changed; we have not listened and we have not understood. Grace is not static. Our Baptism does not come from, nor is it meant to produce still waters. We are meant to be caught up in the rippling waves of grace, washed along in their wake, constantly in motion, grace in and grace out, in a never-ending stream of life-giving cause and effect. Only through grace can we live into Christ's command to love others as he loved us. Only through grace can we be transparent, allowing others to perceive Jesus, not ourselves. To perceive the love of God in me, by grace, through Christ Jesus.

It is this grace that keeps us from thinking we can be an island unto ourself--a rock, hard, unyielding and unchanging: I am a Rock - Simon & Garfunkel.

Thank you Christ Jesus, for the gift of grace that you bought for us through your own suffering and death. Help us to percieve it with open hearts and minds, to be affected and changed. To be stirred into action, sharing your love with others so they will also perceive your grace and keep the waters ever flowing, we the river, you the sea. Amen.

And the walls come tumblin' down

 Our "comfort zones" have been a frequent topic of discussion around our house for awhile now. When we joined the First Place 4 Health group in January, Jerry and I realized to lose weight we needed to push ourselves out of our comfort zones at the gym . Just last week one of the class instructors was explaining that in order to increase in strength, flexibility and endurance, we have to constantly push past our current level of comfort in our workouts. We have to challenge our bodies to keep improving, just as we have to challenge our minds to keep learning. The approach seems to be working for us, and we've both lost 15-16 lbs. Now Jerry is offering encouragement to our friends who want to drop a few pounds to step out of their comfort zone too.

There are all kinds of comfort zones. Humans are, by nature, creatures of habit and we tend to establish routines in our lives. It's just another form of control, though, and too much routine isn't good for us. Jesus was always shaking things up, challenging his followers to step out of their comfort zones. Of course the Pharisees were the easiest targets. Their comfort zones were well protected by thick walls of man-made traditions and religious laws.  But Jesus' teachings poked holes in those walls time after time. He dined with sinners and criminals; he taught men, women and children, Jews and gentiles; he healed the sick, cast out demons, fed the hungry and forgave sins even on the Sabbath; he brought the dead to life by the power of his spoken word.  Even as the wall of stone they hid behind split in two, or when the stone was rolled away to reveal Christ's victory, the terrified Pharisees still refused to be pried loose from their comfortable beliefs.

So what about me? I do okay pushing past that proverbial "wall" in my workouts, but what about in my spiritual life? I guess I'm doing that to some extent with this blog. Its challenges me to think about and elaborate on questions and ideas about my spiritual journey. It gives me a medium to explore and reflect on how Christ is touching me during this season of Lent. But I think that's why I was so uncomfortable sharing it at first. When I actually realized other people were reading it, I became fearful. It was different to write when I knew I wasn't the only person reading it. But I prayed about it and the Holy Spirit revealed it to me as an opportunity for me to share my love for Christ. Now I write freely and my prayer is for the Spirit to use my words and thoughts to glorify my Savior, not myself. I am just a vessel and I am blessed to be of use.  So where is this Lenten Journey taking me? I still don't know, but I hope it will continue to be beyond my comfort zone.

Walls Come Tumbling Down - Style Council

Jesus my Savior, may I never, ever deny your call for me to step out of my comfort zone in service to you and to my neighbor. Come Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful and kindle in us the fire of your love. Send forth your Spirit and we shall be created and you shall renew the face of the earth. I will go Lord, as you lead me. I will hold your people in my heart. Amen.

Living into the hope Christ offers

The movie Hope Floats is one of my all time favorites. I like Sandra Bullock, Harry Connick, Jr. and Gena Rowlands, but it's the relationships that struck a chord with me, and maybe that it took place in the South. There was so much of it that I could identify with. It came out in 1998, a year after my divorce, and while in some ways my situation was exactly the reverse, it was very close in the relationship area. Like Birdee in the movie, almost a year after my divorce I moved to Texas too. But instead of moving back to my roots, I was moving away from them. I left the small town in Alabama where I had lived my entire life to move to the Metroplex. And though my girls were older they still struggled with the way their lives were uprooted and were not happy with my decision. The hardest part, and the part that still stings the most, is that like Birdee, I lost my parents. They both passed away within 2 1/2 yrs after I moved away from them.

There are several good quotes in the movie, and the best, the one that gives it its name, is at the end:  

"Childhood is what you spend the rest of your life trying to overcome. That's what momma always says. She says that beginnings are scary, endings are usually sad, but it's the middle that counts the most. Try to remember that when you find yourself at a new beginning. Just give hope a chance to float up. And it will, too..."

I like that quote, but you know, hope doesn't just get you through the new beginnings. Hope gets you through the endings (maybe especially the endings) and through the middle too.

My Pastor has a reference he likes to use, and anyone who is familiar with his blog and/or his sermons will recognize it. He talks about "living into" something: living into the Gospel or living into the question. And lately he has been referring to the Father happening: the Father happens to the son, the Father happens to you and me. I like the way Pastor uses words, taking them out of their normal context and grammatical pattern, he makes something we've heard a million times come alive because we have to look at it from an unfamiliar angle. Maybe that's why I changed up my blog. I needed to look at it differently to bring me back to where I began. To remind me of what I set out to do when I started this project.

I know that's why I moved to Texas. I needed a new beginning, a new perspective. My life was so changed from what it had been for almost twenty years of marriage. I was changed in a way that was new and strange to me. I had been through big changes before. At 17 I became a wife, at 18 I became a mother, at 28 I miscarried and almost died, at 29 I registered for college classes on a whim with no idea of how I would find the time or the funds to make it, and at 34 I went to work full time for the first time in my life. I was ill-prepared for every one of these changes in my life, but I learned, I changed, I adapted and I survived. But at 36 I finally accepted Christ as my Lord and Savior (no fanfare but a very personal encounter), and that was a huge change. I can look back now and see how God was preparing me for the harder changes still ahead of me. He had patiently stood by all my life as I kept him at arms distance. I was in control and I could do it all. Even then he was surrounding me with his saints to love me and pray for me until the day I couldn't hold him away anymore. So when I finally crumbled at the foot of his cross he whispered, "Let go and let Me. Let Me be your strength, your faith, your courage, your life. You don't have to be in control if you just let Me."  So I did. Christ prepared me by teaching me to let go.

Do you know what it takes for a control freak to let go? The absence of hope. You know that saying, "When you reach the end of your rope, just tie a knot in it and hang on?" Well what about when you run out of rope? What about if you have no more strength to hang on? What if, with every fiber of your being, you just want to let go of that rope? That is the point where Christ steps in. He gently replaces the fraying rope in our cramped, calloused hands with the tenderest hope, offered to us in his precious, open, nail-scarred hands.

I think that is what Pastor means when he says to live into our faith. When we can't grasp forgiveness, when we can't quite make sense of it but we know it's important--even vital--to our survival, we have to find a way to just accept it. We can't answer the question, but we can accept not knowing because we trust in the hope Christ brings us. We can't fathom the grace that comes to us in the Gospel, but we trust in that grace and accept it with humble and grateful hearts. Christ died to bring us life. But when your feet have been swept out from under you and you don't know where to turn next, a big new life may be too much to grasp. But hope, that tender, grace-filled hope is something we can accept. The hope of finding solid ground beneath us again. The hope of a new direction, a new beginning, a new life to come. And a Savior who whispers, "Just let go and let Me."

Thank you most precious Lamb of God for your tender and grace-filled hope. For your loving hands that lift us up and your soft, gentle voice calling to us to come home. Help us to live into your grace, letting the Father happen to us again and again, until we can fully live into that bright new life eternal through Christ.  Amen.  

God's will: not always a mystery

If I've heard it once I've heard it a million times--"God works in mysterious ways." We use the phrase to refer to a coincidence, an irony, a chance occurence that never should have happened. But the mysteries of God are much deeper than such improbable things. The mystery of God has to do with making the broken whole, the empty full, the impossible possible.

I check my blog daily even when I don't write anything, and it wasn't until today that I saw Shirley's comment from Friday. I was moved to tears as I read it. And at first I was so torn because I had not seen it and replied before Bill's surgery on Monday. I still haven't heard anything and I have been praying for both Bill and for Shirley. But I checked my blog and I have to believe that there is a reason God didn't want me to respond until today. Shirley, I don't know what that reason is, but whatever words I have today I pray they will be words from God's heart to yours my dear, precious friend.

Before I ever began this blog, I was praying for and following the story of a young woman on CarePages. A coworker knew her from church and told me about her. Her name was Jenny Bizaillion. Jenny was only 31 and was treasured by her family: husband, daughter (9), parents, siblings, extended family and friends. Her faith was a beacon for many people, and because of her CarePages blog, it reached many, many more and continues to do so. her condition was mystery and though she had medical teams working exhaustively around the clock and prayer warriors all over the world praying for her, God took her home. How does a family deal with a loss like that?

Then, last week, a precious lady who was a charter member of our church congregation--Evelyn Wilkerson--had a stroke and passed away. Evelyn had been suffering for years from health issues and was preceded in death by her devoted husband Stub. Her faith had been a beacon to many people also. It is easy to say that because Evelyn had lived a long life, had been suffering for some time and was no doubt looking for the day when she would be reunited with Stub, her death was easier to accept. But she will be missed and her death mourned by many.

I have been thinking about these two deaths. What do they have in common? Not much, although both deaths were followed by memorial services that celebrated their lives rather than mourning their deaths. That's because these two lives had one very important thing in common: their faith which was a beacon to many.

Intern Ellen preached a sermon on Sunday that touched me deeply. Maybe God wanted me to hear it before I responded to you Shirley. Ellen spoke of a pastor whose son was killed in a tragic car accident. He preached a sermon less than two weeks after his son died and thanked everyone for their prayers and encouragement. But he spoke with anger toward those well-meaning but misguided individuals who said that his son's death was God's will. He declared that death was never God's intention! God's intention is for us to live! The last death that God intended was that of his own son. God himself suffered the anguish of losing someone who was part of him. He suffered the separation and emptiness, the broken spirit, the lonliness. Why? Why on earth would he do that? Why on earth?

Ah. There is the mystery. A God who would come down from heaven to walk the earth. To be close to his creation. To understand his creation. More importantly to reach his creation. So his creation, his children, could reach him, understand him and know him. And just how do we do that? We come to him in our brokenness, in our anguish, in our aloneness. It is only when we are emptied of self that he can fill us with his Spirit. It doesn't require that we lose something or that we suffer, but unfortunately that is so often what it takes for us to understand him and to accept his love. It is hard to humble ourselves and submit our will to God's, so we are most vulnerable when we have nothing else left to cling to.

No, death is never God's will, but life is. It isn't his will that Jenny or Evelyn died. Oh, but while they were alive, it was his will that they lived such a life that others were drawn to him through them. It is not God's will that we lay down and die a spiritual death in our grief either. He would have us live lives filled with his grace. Grace to heal our brokenness, grace to fill our emptiness, grace to share our faith and be a beacon like Jenny and Evelyn. They are gone from this earth, but they have not succumbed to death, they have defeated it! They live on in all those who love them, and in that eternal kingdom where there is no more pain or sorrow, waiting for the day when we will all be reunited in a love that will clear away all the mystery and make all things possible.

Loving God, you know all too well the anguish of losing someone we love so deeply that we don't know where we end and they start. In our emptiness, fill us with your Spirit so that, when we have no words to cry out, your Spirit will groan and you will respond. Reach in and lift the pieces of our broken hearts, little by little, until scarred but whole, we can take on the image of your Son Jesus and be a beacon drawing others to his light. Amen.

For Angie on her birthday

I wish I could be there today to tell you HAPPY BIRTHDAY in person. I'd give you the biggest hug ever and tell you everything will be okay. I'd tell you I know how hard you try to do the best you can at all the million things you juggle every day. You try to be the best Mom, manager, sister, chauffer, friend, nurse, wife, coordinator, daughter, cook, aunt, neighbor, volunteer, and whatever else you find yourself tackling. You take care of so many people (including the 4-legged ones), and usually put yourself last on the list.

I know this has been such a hard week already, and it's difficult to find anything to be happy about, but I am praying that God will bless you in some way. Into every life a little rain must fall, and sometimes it floods. Remember to hold onto your faith in God and be grateful for all the things that really matter. Nobody can ignore the hard times, but with Christ we will survive them and learn from them. Remember what Papaw used to say, "This too shall pass." Things will always get better. The important thing is to rejoice in all of it--the good and the bad. Does that sound crazy? It is true. God is good, but you'll never know how good until you give him control, and sometimes we don't do that until we find there's nothing left to control. His power is perfected in our weakness. (See 2 Corinthians 12:8-10 and Psalm 37:3-8)

I love you so very much and on this day 32 years ago, you changed my life. That's when I began to be the person God wanted me to be. I didn't see that for a long time and it wasn't always easy. I made a lot of detours, but the thing that always brought me back was you and Lissa. No matter what else I accomplish in my life, being your Mom is by far the most cherished and important job God ever blessed me with. Happy Birthday precious girl, I love you always.

A God of Second Chances, Third Chances, Fourth...

Pr. Phil encourages making a change during Lent to help us observe this season of self- examination and repentance. It doesn't mean we have to give something up; instead, it often means adding something or taking on a project or task. I thought it would be a good idea to keep a Lenten Journal, and I originally had in mind a hand-written notebook journal. But on Ash Wednesday I read Pr. Phil's Living the Lectionary Blog (http://www.livingthelectionary.blogspot.com/) and wrote a comment. If you have ever signed up to follow a blog or to comment to a blog, you know that during the process you are given the option of creating your own blog. I realized that writing the response was a pretty free-flowing process. That, coupled with the idea of not having to keep up with another notebook, got me to thinking. Maybe a virtual journal would allow me to be more spontaneous and productive. So that is how this started. It was great! The ideas were flowing fast and furious (so to speak) for the first few days and I was really excited. I wanted to share it with others and I did, at first. But as soon as I started sharing my "success" I started getting this yucky feeling about it, and the words weren't as free-flowing as before.

"If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me." ~ Luke 9:23 This was our memory verse in FP4H last week, which also happened to be the week I was going to lead the class discussion. Naturally I was being a little more studious than on previous weeks' lessons, and I was praying for the Holy Spirit to guide my study and my understanding. As is often the case, I got more than I bargained for in answer to my prayers. It was as if this lesson was aimed right at me. It was called "How to Let Go of Control." I won't go into a lot of detail, but suffice it to say that I understood that yucky feeling was my ego struggling for position with the Spirit of Christ living in me. I had been so blessed by that Spirit in my writing, but I proceeded to share it as if it were all me. My words, my inspiration, my gift. Which, if you have read my blogs - especially the early ones - you might wonder how I missed this point. By the time the day of our meeting rolled around on 3/3, I was working through the dilemma, trying to learn what it meant for me to deny myself and take up my cross and follow Christ. I have asked my small groups for support through prayer and I too pray that I stay on track.

It helps that God has such a rich sense of humor and generous spirit. This week's lesson is on A Community of Encouragement. It's almost as if God is saying "Can you hear me now?" Yesterday's lesson was particularly applicable as it related to dealing with spiritual "blind spots." I didn't have to think very hard to admit the plank in my eye that had caused my blind spot. The real test though, may be in keeping my safety goggles of humility and submission on through the remainder of Lent, avoiding flying bits of ego and self-centeredness as I continue trying to carve my spirit into a closer likeness of Jesus.

Good and glorious God, as Intern Ellen spoke this morning, you are a Lord of infinite grace. I thank you for your mercy when, like the Israelites I am stubborn and reckless with that grace. Forgive me for my selfishness, and help me control the impulse to share accomplishments you enable me to achieve as if they were my own. Enable me as well-or instead-with the gifts of humility and compassion. Break my heart anew each day if that is what it takes for me to deny myself, take up my cross and follow Jesus. In your Son's holy Name, Amen.

Time out

When my girls were small, I would make them sit on the couch sometimes to discipline them. "Sit there until I say you can get up," I'd tell them. Then, when I felt it had been long enough, they'd usually get a lecture about what they had done that landed them there before their release. These days, this discipine is known as "time out." I've picked up the phrase from my daughter when she and her three kids are visiting. "Do you want to sit in the time out chair?" Of course the obvious answer is "no ma'am." As a general rule, children don't want to sit still, much less in seclusion (i.e., where they can't see the tv). But what about adults? You might think that most adults (especially busy Moms) would LOVE to take a time out. But what if it included the "sit there and think about what you did" clause? Or worse sometimes, what you didn't do?

To look at this from a different angle, have you ever been just piddling (tinkering, etc.--doing stuff with no particular thought to it) around the house and before you know it an hour or more has passed and you didn't even realize it. For instance, I load the dishwasher to get the dishes out of the way. Then I rinse out the sink. I notice the ring of grime around the edge, so I scrub that off, then I move to the counter top. I clean around the surface and I notice how dirty the stovetop is. So I clean around the stove top. The thought crosses my mind that I really have things I need to do, but I continue anyway. Before I know it an hour has passed and I haven't gotten to anything on my to-do list. But I'm not disappointed because I have a nice clean stovetop, counter and sink. I imagine we've all done the same sort of thing.

If you're a gardener maybe you walked out to the mailbox intending to go right inside and do some task or other. But then you spied some weeds in the flower bed. You set the mail down and pull those pesky weeds. Before you know it, two hours have passed, your back is stiff and your intended task is still undone. But your flowerbed is gloriously free of weeds! Or maybe you went to the garage to put the trash out and you saw a tool somebody forgot to put up. Two hours later the bag of garbage is still by the door, but your tool bench is neatly organized and everything put away. I could go on and on, but you get my drift. We all "waste" time like this occasionally, but it's not really wasted, it's more like unplanned productivity.

One of the things I'm trying to do during Lent is to spend more time in God's presence. But I need to work on not doing all the talking. I have been thinking of it as sort of a time out. Making time to sit quietly and be totally focused on the Holy Spirit's voice around me and inside me. To let that voice guide my thoughts to all the things I have done or the things I have not done. It has to be intentional, but I also thought it had to be planned. Yesterday I got up at the usual time of 4:30am even though we had stayed up an hour later the night before. When Jerry got up and we were both very tired, we decided not to go to the gym. We did some of our FP4H Bible Study and then he went back to bed. I was planning to follow him, but I realized I had been asking God to help me make time for prayer and quiet time with him, and here I was. It was 5 am, very quiet, and I was alone. It was perfect. Before I knew it an hour had passed. I didn't go back to bed to get that needed physical and mental rest, but God had refreshed my spirit through his presence. So this "time out" with God turned out to be "unplanned productivity."

Thank you Holy Spirit for the "time out" to contemplate my relationship with you and to examine my conscience. I know I need to set time aside for this as a discipline, but I am so grateful that you meet me halfway. You speak to me and bring me to a stop when I am focused on my physical or worldly tasks. What a fellowship, what a joy divine, Leaning on the everlasting arms! Amen.

http://www.cyberhymnal.org/htm/l/o/lotearms.htm

A Day at the Park

I came across this story I wrote about my grandson six years ago. I wanted to post it so he can read it. I'm including a picture I sketched of the flower, and a photo I took of him that day. I love all my granchildren, but Hunter taught me what it is to be a Grandmother. I love you Hunter.

My grandson Hunter, four years old, lives in Alabama and comes to visit a few times a year. He loves to play at the park down the street, and especially enjoys the water playground, swings and jungle gym. Hunter also loves bugs. His likes roly-polies the best, but since we don’t have many around our house, he settles for snails. When he was visiting in May, I took him down to a little pond behind the park to see if we could find some roly-polies. It was a beautiful, sunny day and I got some excellent pictures of Hunter amongst all the spring wildflowers blooming. He kept asking me if he could pick the flowers, and I kept explaining that we should try not to pick them because they would die and wouldn’t be pretty any more. “But I want to take some to my Mommy,” he insisted.

I tried to explain to him how flowers, once you picked them, could not “eat” and “drink” through their roots, so they would just fade away. I told him we would take pictures for his Mommy so she could see how pretty they were. Hunter wasn’t convinced, but the prospect of having his picture taken appealed to him. So he sat down by a clump of Indian Paintbrushes and said, “Gram, take a picture of me and these pretty orange flowers.”

I took several of my favorite little muse, as he posed by first smelling the flowers, then petting them, and even hugging and kissing them. Finally we had enough and it was time to go look for bugs. But as Hunter stood up, the strap of the binoculars he was wearing got wrapped around one of the flowers, snapping it off just above the ground. He carefully disentangled the flower and held it out toward me. “Uh oh Gram, look. I didn’t mean to, it was a accident.”

"It's okay" I said, “you wanted to take one home, so we'll just keep that one. Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.” I helped him make his way back over to the trail, brushed him off, gave him a kiss and said, “C'mon, let’s go find some roly polies.” Cradling the flower gently in both hands, he followed me on the narrow trail around the pond. “But Gram,” he said, “I don’t want it to die and not be pretty any more.” I stopped and turned around. “Sweetie,if we don’t take it home, it'll die anyway. This way we can take it and put it in some water and show it to Pop and Aunt Lissa.” Hunter nodded, but he was walking slower and slower, concern written all over his little face. “Come on slow poke,” I teased him, “We’re never going to find any bugs if we don't get a move on.” Suddenly, he stopped and placed the flower gently on the ground next to the trail. “What are you doing?” I asked him. He looked up at me, “I’m gonna leave it here Gram. So it won’t die and not be pretty and everybody can still see it.”

I looked at my grandson. Fifteen minutes earlier he had been arguing with me about picking the flowers. I didn’t think he had heard a thing I was trying to tell him. Now I could see how closely he had been listening, and how much he had taken to heart. Oh, I knew that sad little flower would just shrivel up and die, but I was so proud of him for trying to do the right thing, and I could see that he felt good about his decision. I squatted down next to Hunter, and we looked at his little flower. “You know" I said, I think you're absolutely right. I think if we just leave it right here where it belongs, it will just have to grow some more roots and be just fine.” “Yeah,” he sighed. Then he looked up and smiled. “Now we can go, Gram.” He didn’t ask to pick a flower for the rest of the day, but enjoyed them right where they were.

Such a little thing. But isn’t that where it starts? If we aren’t willing to sacrifice our will over the trivial things in our lives, how can we learn to do the right thing when it’s really important? Like a stubborn child, we grapple with God, trying to bend him to our will, justifying our own selfish desires even when we know it’s wrong. But if we will simply accept God’s will in all things, if we listen to the Holy Spirit speaking to our hearts, if our actions reflect Christ’s love, then we will live a life that we can be proud of. Not proud in a noisy, boastful, “look at me” sort of way; but in a quiet, content, “right with the world,” way.



Good and gracious God, thank you for the relationships you bless me with. Thank you for the joy I feel when I am with friends and family. Help me to look forward to time with you the same way. Because it is in your presence that I find the greatest joy and peace. Give me the self-discipline to make time to be still and know that you are God. To sit quietly and be renewed by your Spirit. To walk and talk with Jesus. To remember that I am your creation, a human "being," and should not forever be a human "doing." Amen.

Just let go . . .

I'm a doodler. If there's a piece of paper and a writing implement in front of me when I'm on the phone, I doodle. Back before they became obsolete, I embellished quite a few Yellow pages. Today's entry started out as a doodle a number of weeks ago. I liked it so instead of tossing it I shoved it in my desk drawer. I discovered it this morning when I was looking for something else, so I thought it would make a good entry into my Lenten Journal.

In her comment to yesterday's blog entry, My dear friend Shirley reminded me of some sketches I did when we were in college together. I had forgotten about them. I've forgotten a lot of things, as we all do. But Shirley had a stroke when she was in her early 30's (Shirley, I hope I remembered that correctly : ) and she lost some memories. I think it impressed on her the importance of memories and history because she is a nut for both. That's just one of the things I love about her.

There's a lot about my past I remember fondly, and some I'd rather not recall at all. That's what I love about Jesus. He knows my history, every detail, good and bad. He knows the memories I cherish and he knows the ones that make me cringe. But he gently pries those bad memories from me, telling me to softly, "just let go." He takes them and nails them to the cross where the blood he shed for me still clings. Then I take his scarred hand and we walk away, smiling because the pain is behind us now. The victory is won, and there's still enough room on that cross for all the world's bad memories and sins. It's time to share his story and his invitation to just let go.

Jesus, save your pie for me.

I went to college when I was already a mom and a wife. It was a life-changing experience, and one for which I will always be grateful. Being one of the more mature "returning students," I became very close to some of my professors and their staff. One of the former was a literature professor named Claudia. She was quite a character. A raging feminist who had only recently completed her doctorate, Claudia had a wildly sharp wit, and sarcasm and puns were among her favorite tools. But the thing that would have me rolling in the floor was listening to her stories from her childhood as the daughter of a Baptist preacher. I remember well the first time I heard that. Claudia was a PK? I'm from the Bible Belt, so that means the South, which also means Southern Baptist. I could just imagine Claudia, irreverent, rebellious and mischievous, doing anything but sitting quietly in the front pew. Occasionally she would recall instances when, as a young child, she would misinterpret scripture or hymns. One of the hymns was her Dad's favorite, "Jesus Savior Pilot Me." Claudia would laugh and say it was her favorite too, at first. "I would stand right there, next to my Momma and sing at the top o'my lungs, 'Jesus, save your pie for me!'" I would picture a very determined little Claudia, trying to out-sing all those other people wanting Jesus to save his pie for them. It still makes me chuckle.

There's another side to my relationship with Claudia. I took one of her lit classes, even though other friends said I might regret it. She was thrilled at first, but I didn't live up to her expectations for long. When I put my family responsibilities ahead of my academic accomplishments, Claudia was disappointed. She seemed to feel that I had betrayed her and betrayed every woman who struggled to achieve the dream of academic advancement. I had given in to tradition, tethering myself to a husband and kids who she assumed would never appreciate me or my accomplishments. Claudia quickly gave up on me and gave up on our friendship. I was hurt at first. But it wasn't that I was seeing a different side of Claudia's personality, I had just never been on the receiving end of her disdainful sarcasm and criticism. I realized that I had willingly become an accomplice to her cruel jokes and rapier wit aimed at others. Even if I hadn't approved of it, I never opened my mouth. I stood back, safe and smug in my favored position. I was ashamed. Ashamed that it took me tumbling from that favored position to admit my selfish and prideful attitude.

I admitted some other things after that. I knew my friend had some "issues," But because she made me laugh and she stroked my ego, I had allowed myself to look past the flaws that should have been evident. She was angry, bitter and defensive. She had spent her whole life rebelling against being put in a box. I don't know what she experienced that resulted in such an attitude, but I know it wasn't healthy. She seemed to view motherhood and being a wife as imprisonment, so maybe she had been hurt by someone she loved. The saddest thing of all was her disregard for the Church and for Jesus Christ. She resented them as tools society used to keep people-especially women--in "their places." I wonder if Claudia ever knew the freedom of a life in Christ? I pray that she did; that she does. I pray that she came to know my Jesus: the One who does so much more than save his pie for me. He gave his all for me and he saved my soul. He abides in me, and I abide in him. He is the Word and the Truth. He is my Jesus, my Savior, who does indeed pilot me.

Thank you Holy Jesus, for your abiding love, your grace that pours out over me in the blood you shed for my sins. I pray that blood of Jesus over Claudia, and those like her. That your light would blind them like Paul, to anything but your truth. That your thunderous presence would deafen them to any voice but that of the Holy Spirit. That they would know the freedom you offer when we lay our burdens down and take up your gentle yoke instead. Amen.

What's the Scoop?

Yesterday we heard Pr. Kyle Rouze preach about how Jesus loves to gather us close to his heart, even when we have not followed his commands. I enjoyed the example he gave of such "gathering in" with his and his wife's two little pugs. It was easy to imagine him scooping them up and holding them close, even when they had not been on their best behavior. Although I wonder, in their case, who's pleading looks garnered more sympathy, his or the pugs'?

It is comforting to know that Jesus will do, has done, the pleading for us and our case. He scoops us up and stands in the gap with the Father. Having already paid our ransom, he pleads not guilty by way of absolution on our behalf. There is no advocate like him, our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Listening to Pr. Kyle's sermon and the story about his dogs, I began to think about our dogs. Most definitely not the "scooping up in your lap" kind, Fred weighs in at around 75 lbs and Barney is 60 or so. But I remembered a particular afternoon when we had them out for a walk. (And in our case, it's a toss-up as to who is walking whom.) Heading home, we were a couple of blocks from our house when we heard frantic barking (the big dog kind) from the backyard of the house we were passing. All of a sudden two pit bulls came boiling out from under a rickety fence, one of them trailing a piece of rope. At first they encountered a partial chain link fence between us and them, but it only took a moment for them to realize they could go around it. As they circled the fence, I instinctively grabbed Fred to keep him from lunging away from me, reaching down and scooping up as much of him as I could. This amounted to getting his front feet and chest up in my arms so he was standing on his hind legs. Much to my relief, even though he was still tensed for action, he didn't struggle too much. Meanwhile Jerry leashed Barney in close and yelled and swung his arms at the two pits. Lucky for us they were still young enough to be intimidated and they quickly retreated back under the fence. We also beat a hasty retreat, rounding the corner to the next block before stopping to calm ourselves and the boys. It was a really scary confrontation, and as suddenly as it happened, it was over.

The thing I recalled about the experience was knowing I had to hold onto Fred, not necessarily to protect him from being attacked, but to keep him from attacking. And that's what was going through my mind as Pr. Kyle was talking about God scooping us in even if we have not been obedient.

I think God scoops me in sometimes to protect me from myself. I get an idea in my head that I need to do something and I'm sure it's the right thing. I put all my focus and energy toward a goal, and I may even pray about it. But even though I may ask God to guide me, it's often with the assumption that he will guide me toward my goal. I can look back though, and see many times when he guided me away from it. He scooped me up, stopping my reckless forward motion until the threat had passed. Sometimes I resented being held back and struggled to have my own way. Many times too, I did not pray for guidance and ran headlong into disaster. But as I mature, so does my sense of humility, gratitude, appreciation and respect for God's involvement in every facet of my life. So I pray. I pray for his Spirit to guide me. I pray for wisdom and discernment. I pray for self-control. I pray for God's will, not my own. I pray to be scooped up in his arms, where I can abide in him and he in me.

Thank you Lord, for scooping me up, for leading me not into temptation but delivering me from evil, for pulling me in, holding me close, calming my fears, and redirecting my life. May all my actions, intentions and works of this day be directed solely to the greater glory of God's divine majesty, and may the grace of God dwell always in me. Amen.

I don't know why he loves me

Sometimes I have one of those days. Those days when, for no good reason, I just can't seem to get anything right. The kind when it seems the harder I try to be positive and upbeat, the more things seem to go wrong and bring me down. Before I know it, there I am, frustrated, irritable and generally angry with myself for being so negative and whiney.

Christians aren't supposed to feel that way, right? Wrong! We are still all too human. Even Jesus gave in to despair. But that is, in a nutshell, our saving grace. Jesus understands me even when I don't (maybe especially when I don't) understand myself. And Jesus loves me, especially when I cannot, will not, love myself. When I can't find the words to pray for help, the Spirit within me groans for his grace and mercy. My Savior reaches in, lifts me up and warms me with his presence. He brings me back to life, to him, back to life in him. Back to the foot of the cross, where I lay my burdens down and find peace.

As I considered my blog entry today, a line from a song kept rolling around in my head: "I don't know why he loves me." I couldn't remember the rest of it so I googled it. It's a song by Adrea Crouch, "I Don't Know Why Jesus Loved me."

I don't know why Jesus loved me
I don't know why He cared
I don't know why He sacrificed His life
Oh, but I'm glad, so glad He did

He left His mighty throne in glory
To bring to us redemption's story
Then He died but He rose again
Oh, but I'm glad, so glad He did.

Where would I be if Jesus didn't love me?
Where would I be if Jesus didn't care?
Where would I be if He hadn't sacrificed His life
Oh, but I'm glad, so glad He did
Oh, but I'm glad (so glad), so glad He did

Thank you Jesus, for loving me when I am unlovable, for understanding me when I don't understand myself. Thank you for sending your Spirit to guide me back to the cross, back to your side, where once again I am washed in the blood of the lamb, made new and each time, I pray, made more in your image. Amen.