It's Mother's Day. The house is quiet. I've just returned from a bike ride and am now awaiting my family's return from church so we can go celebrate with my husband's family.
This weekend was church for me...having my yearly visit with dear friends who encourage me in my walk with the Lord and in this journey of home schooling and getting to listen to Sally Clarkson's timely messages on faith and trust. My heart was full, and I knew that this morning what I probably needed most was a quiet morning.
So, my husband kindly switched roles with me and took the kids to church and left me home alone to rest, reflect, and do whatever my heart desires.
I sat in bed reminding myself of God's goodness to me and His faithfulness to see me through the end. Just before... everyone crowded on and around my bed to shower me with love and cards and gifts carefully chosen to express their love, and I ask myself how I could ever doubt God's faithfulness, how I could ever not trust, not believe.
But I have and I do and just like David I have to say: "Why so downcast, O my soul? Put your hope in God!"
Because this journey of mothering and teaching and training is daunting and these precious children who I love so intensely...well, I don't want to fail them and I don't want to ruin them.
As if...as if somehow my mistakes and my failures are somehow bigger than God's goodness and faithfulness and power to take all things and work them all for good...
Because they are not.
I know the rest of that verse says that He does that for those who love Him, and while I don't do it perfectly, I do. I do love Him and so do my children and so does my husband (though his head may not be sure at the moment his life overflows with evidences of it) and if I stop long enough...if I take a step back and wait a moment...if I step back from the hurry and scurry and worry of all that goes on...I can see it.
I can see His fingerprints all over their lives.
Like a "chance" encounter with Dr. J that lodged something deeply in my son's heart about destiny and calling and giftings.
Or the random friend of a friend I happened to meet who has a business that might be a great next step for my oldest daughter.
Or the diligent middle child searching through a sea of books to find that one book they said they didn't have so she can continue to hone the skills of her heart's passion.
And the artwork on my Mother's Day card from another child who struggles with creativity, or so he says, and yet there this card is brimming with art and love and color and untapped talent that will be drawn out when the time is right.
Then the one who grabbed the book to read to the family with passion and fervor and life and abundance that is always brimming and spilling over into all of the house and beyond.
And the youngest who dances and does so with excellence and leads at her young age.
Of course, us, the parents, are not without His touch too. It's there and it's obvious and not so obvious.
Thankfulness brims too for my mom who loves me and cherishes me and has always done her best to facilitate God's work in my life. She deserves a whole post (at the least!), not just a line or two, so look for one soon.
The house is about to get loud again, and my heart has rested and has been reminded that I am His and so are they and since that's true I can rest and I can trust because He who is faithful will do it, will complete it, will perfect it, will make it all good for His glory.
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Stagnation
Stir the stagnant waters of my soul
Sounds like a safe line of a song to sing
But it's not
Stirring stirs the heart
Displacing calm waters
To a churning muck and mess
Doesn't feel right
Doesn't smell right
Better when it was on the bottom
Out of sight
Out of mind
Didn't even know it was there
But time and days
And things get thrown in
And if not tossed out
They sink
And stagnate
And putrify
There on the bottom
Stir the stagnant waters of my soul
Merge me with Your living stream
Keep it flowing
In and out
Pure and clear
Hurry, please
Sounds like a safe line of a song to sing
But it's not
Stirring stirs the heart
Displacing calm waters
To a churning muck and mess
Doesn't feel right
Doesn't smell right
Better when it was on the bottom
Out of sight
Out of mind
Didn't even know it was there
But time and days
And things get thrown in
And if not tossed out
They sink
And stagnate
And putrify
There on the bottom
Stir the stagnant waters of my soul
Merge me with Your living stream
Keep it flowing
In and out
Pure and clear
Hurry, please
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Blowing in the Wind
For the Essentials in Spiritual Formation Certificate Course with Dan Wilt at Worshiptraining.com
Wind: An Inspired Life ~ Beauty, Heroes and Dreams
Doing that doesn’t come easily, however. My desire to control, to know, and to understand often overrides my desire to flow, to rest, and to sail by the Spirit.
It is through the spiritual discipline of quiet and rest that I find strength to live the inspired life, a life full of passion, full of love, full of a sense of mission that goes beyond myself and reaches into the depths of the love of Christ that I might join in His mission of seeing “humanity restored, new creation coming in people and in the cosmos and deliverance coming to Israel.”[2] Spiritual discipline exposes the deep places of my heart to beauty, heroes and dreams.
Intentionally building moments of beauty into my life for inspiration opens up space for God to refresh and refill me with His Spirit, so I feel as if I’ve been “’lifted and struck’ like a bell,” [3] my life ringing with purpose and promise.
I need to find heroes whose lives are an inspiration to me, those who help me remember that “God has placed greatness in [me], by reflecting that greatness in themselves.” [4] I must purpose to spend time learning from them, seeing Jesus in them.
Dreaming with God reminds me I am part of something bigger and that He has not left me alone; rather, He longs to fill my life with His strength so that every moment of every day might be lived from a strong center, confident that He has woven treasures of inspiration throughout my day. These golden threads can be found no matter how mundane or routine the task, and learning to “be inspired in the midst of…duties” keeps me childlike, doing the same thing over and over again “through excess, not absence of life.” [5]
G.K. Chesterton says, “…grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony…It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them.” [6]
May I grow in my ability to lean into the wind, finding inspiration in beauty, heroes, and dreams. May I never tire of loving in the midst of duty. May I always find beauty in my surroundings and be inspired to live fully present, reflecting the greatness of God in the ordinary and extraordinary of every-day life.
1 Dan Wilt, Essentials in Spiritual Formation digital book, 15
2 ibid, 19
3 ibid, 17
4 ibid, 17
5 ibid, 18
6 ibid, 18
Wind: An Inspired Life ~ Beauty, Heroes and Dreams
“Wind speaks of our need to lift our sails into the wind, to learn the arts of riding the winds that are sent to us, and working with God to manipulate our sails so that we can get to where God has invited us to go.” [1]A relief to know it’s not all up to me…relief to know that I can lift up my sail to the wind of the Spirit and allow Him to blow and direct my life.
Doing that doesn’t come easily, however. My desire to control, to know, and to understand often overrides my desire to flow, to rest, and to sail by the Spirit.
It is through the spiritual discipline of quiet and rest that I find strength to live the inspired life, a life full of passion, full of love, full of a sense of mission that goes beyond myself and reaches into the depths of the love of Christ that I might join in His mission of seeing “humanity restored, new creation coming in people and in the cosmos and deliverance coming to Israel.”[2] Spiritual discipline exposes the deep places of my heart to beauty, heroes and dreams.
Intentionally building moments of beauty into my life for inspiration opens up space for God to refresh and refill me with His Spirit, so I feel as if I’ve been “’lifted and struck’ like a bell,” [3] my life ringing with purpose and promise.
I need to find heroes whose lives are an inspiration to me, those who help me remember that “God has placed greatness in [me], by reflecting that greatness in themselves.” [4] I must purpose to spend time learning from them, seeing Jesus in them.
Dreaming with God reminds me I am part of something bigger and that He has not left me alone; rather, He longs to fill my life with His strength so that every moment of every day might be lived from a strong center, confident that He has woven treasures of inspiration throughout my day. These golden threads can be found no matter how mundane or routine the task, and learning to “be inspired in the midst of…duties” keeps me childlike, doing the same thing over and over again “through excess, not absence of life.” [5]
G.K. Chesterton says, “…grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony…It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them.” [6]
May I grow in my ability to lean into the wind, finding inspiration in beauty, heroes, and dreams. May I never tire of loving in the midst of duty. May I always find beauty in my surroundings and be inspired to live fully present, reflecting the greatness of God in the ordinary and extraordinary of every-day life.
1 Dan Wilt, Essentials in Spiritual Formation digital book, 15
2 ibid, 19
3 ibid, 17
4 ibid, 17
5 ibid, 18
6 ibid, 18
Friday, April 27, 2012
Wind: An Inspired Life
Beauty, Heroes and Dreams
“Wind speaks of our need to lift our sails into the wind, to
learn the arts of riding the winds that are sent to us, and working with God to
manipulate our sails so that we can get to where God has invited us to go.” [1]
A relief to know it’s not all up to me…relief to know that I
can lift up my sail to the wind of the Spirit and allow Him to blow and direct
my life.
Doing that doesn’t come easily, however. My desire to control, to know, and to
understand often overrides my desire to flow, to rest, and to sail by the
Spirit.
It is through the spiritual discipline of quiet and rest
that I find strength to live the inspired life, a life full of passion, full of
love, full of a sense of mission that goes beyond myself and reaches into the
depths of the love of Christ that I might join in His mission of seeing
“humanity restored, new creation coming in people and in the cosmos and
deliverance coming to Israel.”[2] Spiritual discipline exposes the deep places
of my heart to beauty, heroes and dreams.
Intentionally building moments of beauty into my life for
inspiration opens up space for God to refresh and refill me with His Spirit, so
I feel as if I’ve been “’lifted and struck’ like a bell,” [3] my life ringing
with purpose and promise.
I need to find heroes whose lives are an inspiration to me,
those who help me remember that “God has placed greatness in [me], by
reflecting that greatness in themselves.” [4]
I must purpose to spend time learning from them, seeing Jesus in them.
Dreaming with God reminds me I am part of something bigger
and that He has not left me alone; rather, He longs to fill my life with His
strength so that every moment of every day might be lived from a strong center,
confident that He has woven treasures of inspiration throughout my day. These golden threads can be found no matter
how mundane or routine the task, and learning to “be inspired in the midst
of…duties” keeps me childlike, doing the same thing over and over again
“through excess, not absence of life.” [5]
G.K. Chesterton says, “…grown-up people are not strong
enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps
God is strong enough to exult in monotony…It may not be automatic necessity
that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately,
but has never got tired of making them.” [6]
May I grow in my ability to lean into the wind, finding
inspiration in beauty, heroes, and dreams.
May I never tire of loving in the midst of duty. May I always find beauty in my surroundings
and be inspired to live fully present, reflecting the greatness of God in the
ordinary and extraordinary of every-day life.
1 Dan Wilt, Essentials in Spiritual Formation
digital book, 15
2 ibid, 19
2 ibid, 19
3 ibid, 17
4 ibid, 17
5 ibid, 18
6 ibid, 18
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
If you were a better mom, you would...
Ever hear that one pop through your head? Or some version of it. To make it more universal, you fill in your own blank:
If you were a better ____________, you would...
Just now I was sitting at the table reading through my daughter's written assignments as I ate my breakfast. I was minding my own business. Doing what a good homeschool mom ought to be doing: multitasking while sitting down and eating.
Out of nowhere, I think: "If you were a better mom, you would have been more creative with those bandannas you gave as party favors over the years at your children's birthday parties. You would have had every party attender sign one for your children at each party. You would have collected them for your children and made them into a quilt for them."
What?
Talk about an imagination. While I might like to think that if I would've thought of that back then and started said collection that I would someday make them into a quilt, the reality is, the collected bandannas would've sat in a bag somewhere reminding me of yet another project that hasn't gotten done.
As it is, apparently they sit in my head as a figment of my imagination and are a project never even started that the enemy just devised right now for me to get anxious and distraught over.
Because what mom in her right mind doesn't create amazing bandanna quilts for her children as a souvenir of umpteen capture-the-flag birthday parties?
Well, this one doesn't and hasn't. And that doesn't make me better or worse mother.
And since that "imagination" was so far out in left field (as they are progressively getting to be...the enemy is really overplaying this hand...), I caught it pretty quickly and didn't go down the path of "geeze-what a rotten mom I am for not doing that..." I demolished it with divine power and am making my thoughts obedient to Christ.
Now back to grading papers...
~peace
If you were a better ____________, you would...
Just now I was sitting at the table reading through my daughter's written assignments as I ate my breakfast. I was minding my own business. Doing what a good homeschool mom ought to be doing: multitasking while sitting down and eating.
Out of nowhere, I think: "If you were a better mom, you would have been more creative with those bandannas you gave as party favors over the years at your children's birthday parties. You would have had every party attender sign one for your children at each party. You would have collected them for your children and made them into a quilt for them."
What?
Talk about an imagination. While I might like to think that if I would've thought of that back then and started said collection that I would someday make them into a quilt, the reality is, the collected bandannas would've sat in a bag somewhere reminding me of yet another project that hasn't gotten done.
As it is, apparently they sit in my head as a figment of my imagination and are a project never even started that the enemy just devised right now for me to get anxious and distraught over.
Because what mom in her right mind doesn't create amazing bandanna quilts for her children as a souvenir of umpteen capture-the-flag birthday parties?
Well, this one doesn't and hasn't. And that doesn't make me better or worse mother.
And since that "imagination" was so far out in left field (as they are progressively getting to be...the enemy is really overplaying this hand...), I caught it pretty quickly and didn't go down the path of "geeze-what a rotten mom I am for not doing that..." I demolished it with divine power and am making my thoughts obedient to Christ.
Now back to grading papers...
~peace
Monday, April 23, 2012
Earth: the grounded life
for the Essentials In Spiritual Formation Certificate Course with Dan Wilt
Lately, it seems I feel anything but grounded.
I desire to embrace and pursue a grounded life, yet today emotions blow this way and that as uncertainty and doubt creep in, and I am feeling untethered and tossed about by waves and wind.
Momentarily, I find my footing, reminded to demolish every imagination that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, but sometimes the imagination appear so stealthily that I have spent a good deal of time interacting with it before I recognize it for what it is. By that time, the erosion is felt, that gradual rubbing away of destiny and identity and confidence and grace.
Questions surge and bellow and roar. Accusations, condemnations, and angst fill my heart; squeezing the love, joy, and peace to one side.
It's not always this loud and boisterous. Mostly they ride below the surface, a quiet murmur in the back of my mind, muffled by calm waters and clear skies. I can almost forget they're there.
Almost.
But then something happens and the veneer wears thin and the background noise catapults to the forefront.
"Are you sure you're doing the right thing?"
"Maybe they'd be better off in school."
"You're not preparing them well."
"You call this academic excellence?"
"Are you sure this is important? Well, are you?"
"What if they're not getting all they need?"
"What if you're failing them?"
"What if your not teaching them everything they need to know?"
Ad nauseam. And these are just the ones that correspond to homeschooling. I haven't even begun to list the others that flit or slide or saunter or inch through, each waiting to see if I'll take notice, if I'll bite.
I must admit I've bitten more than once recently. Sunk my teeth deep into the delectable, decadent, donut of self recrimination.
Imaginations. All of them. And not the creative kind.
Casting them down, though, feels like so. much. work. And I'm tired, tired of the battle, tired of the external voices that reinforce the internal parade, tired of not being more grounded.
Vicious cycle this. Time to get grounded again. Time to get back to the discipline of early rising and early manna and early drink. I can't do without, even for a short time (and it's not been that long ago that the pattern of wake and sunrise and Word and journal was broken). Sure I can survive on less, but this living on less is not really living at all when the first fruits of the day are eaten up by imaginations that are vapors of nothingness that suck life.
So I'm filling my kettle with water, readying my candle on the table, setting out Bible and journal and favorite pen.
Tomorrow is a fresh day.
from 2 Corinthians 10 in the Message:
and from the King James Version
Embrace a grounded life. A firm foundation beneath our feet will enable us to act lovingly, passionately and substantially in the world - and will lead us increasingly to be conformed to the person and likeness of Christ.~Dan Wilt in elemental*life: The Formation of the Creative Soul
Lately, it seems I feel anything but grounded.
I desire to embrace and pursue a grounded life, yet today emotions blow this way and that as uncertainty and doubt creep in, and I am feeling untethered and tossed about by waves and wind.
Momentarily, I find my footing, reminded to demolish every imagination that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, but sometimes the imagination appear so stealthily that I have spent a good deal of time interacting with it before I recognize it for what it is. By that time, the erosion is felt, that gradual rubbing away of destiny and identity and confidence and grace.
Questions surge and bellow and roar. Accusations, condemnations, and angst fill my heart; squeezing the love, joy, and peace to one side.
It's not always this loud and boisterous. Mostly they ride below the surface, a quiet murmur in the back of my mind, muffled by calm waters and clear skies. I can almost forget they're there.
Almost.
But then something happens and the veneer wears thin and the background noise catapults to the forefront.
"Are you sure you're doing the right thing?"
"Maybe they'd be better off in school."
"You're not preparing them well."
"You call this academic excellence?"
"Are you sure this is important? Well, are you?"
"What if they're not getting all they need?"
"What if you're failing them?"
"What if your not teaching them everything they need to know?"
Ad nauseam. And these are just the ones that correspond to homeschooling. I haven't even begun to list the others that flit or slide or saunter or inch through, each waiting to see if I'll take notice, if I'll bite.
I must admit I've bitten more than once recently. Sunk my teeth deep into the delectable, decadent, donut of self recrimination.
Imaginations. All of them. And not the creative kind.
Casting them down, though, feels like so. much. work. And I'm tired, tired of the battle, tired of the external voices that reinforce the internal parade, tired of not being more grounded.
Vicious cycle this. Time to get grounded again. Time to get back to the discipline of early rising and early manna and early drink. I can't do without, even for a short time (and it's not been that long ago that the pattern of wake and sunrise and Word and journal was broken). Sure I can survive on less, but this living on less is not really living at all when the first fruits of the day are eaten up by imaginations that are vapors of nothingness that suck life.
So I'm filling my kettle with water, readying my candle on the table, setting out Bible and journal and favorite pen.
Tomorrow is a fresh day.
from 2 Corinthians 10 in the Message:
The tools of our trade aren't for marketing or manipulation, but they are for demolishing that entire massively corrupt culture. We use our powerful God-tools for smashing warped philosophies, tearing down barriers erected against the truth of God, fitting every loose thought and emotion and impulse into the structure of life shaped by Christ. Our tools are ready at hand for clearing the ground of every obstruction and building lives of obedience into maturity.
and from the King James Version
4(For the weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but mighty through God to the pulling down of strong holds;)
5Casting down imaginations, and every high thing that exalteth itself against the knowledge of God, and bringing into captivity every thought to the obedience of Christ
Saturday, April 7, 2012
To minister before the Lord
My friends held a "night watch" last night, a time to play and sing and drum and dance and create and just be in the Presence of the Lord and minister to Him.
I wanted to go, wanted to go to the last one, but due to schedules and what is on my plate, I've missed both.
And this morning as I woke up early and contemplated driving over there for the last bit, I felt like I heard the Lord say to me,
"That's what you do every day for Me."
It's just that directing children to do chores, helping with school work, cooking meals, making phone calls, answering emails, straightening papers, washing towels, packing, refereeing, cleaning, sleeping doesn't feel much like ministering before the Lord.
But when He said it, I knew that it was true.
Granted, it's my attitude in the midst of those things that make them seem less holy and spiritual and often causes me to miss the opportunity to minister to Him.
Though I am learning, albeit a bit slowly, I am seeing the small things and the big things and choosing thanksgiving more and more often.
My heart still bends towards negativity more frequently than I'd like, but I am, with the gentle reminding of Holy Spirit, carving in the groove through repeated acts of thanksgiving.
And it is going deeper.
This morning I sit and look out eastern window and see the sky crisscrossed by airplane trails and a light brushing of airy clouds. At first the trails and clouds are tinged pink with blue sky behind. Then as the light position changes, they lighten, taking on a more creamy hue with the brightening of the day.
I take note. I allow the beauty of the vastness of this watercolor piece brushed before me, this once in a life-time experience, to soak into my soul. Quite literally, the sky will never look like this again.
Kodak didn't capture it, but my heart did and in it thankfulness rose and all seemed to quiet within.
The clouds and airplane trails just are. They're shaped by the wind currents, painted by the sun, and somehow this morning they represent to me what it is to minister before the Lord.
Sometimes it will be in a set-aside time in a set-apart place with instruments and voices and an environment less cluttered than mine.
But most days, it's here where I get to be shaped by the Wind and painted by the Son and enjoyed by the One who set me here with these gifts to be discovered each day, these treasures He's hidden just for me to find.
And my thankful response...that is what ministers to Him.
~peace
I wanted to go, wanted to go to the last one, but due to schedules and what is on my plate, I've missed both.
And this morning as I woke up early and contemplated driving over there for the last bit, I felt like I heard the Lord say to me,
"That's what you do every day for Me."
It's just that directing children to do chores, helping with school work, cooking meals, making phone calls, answering emails, straightening papers, washing towels, packing, refereeing, cleaning, sleeping doesn't feel much like ministering before the Lord.
But when He said it, I knew that it was true.
Granted, it's my attitude in the midst of those things that make them seem less holy and spiritual and often causes me to miss the opportunity to minister to Him.
Though I am learning, albeit a bit slowly, I am seeing the small things and the big things and choosing thanksgiving more and more often.
My heart still bends towards negativity more frequently than I'd like, but I am, with the gentle reminding of Holy Spirit, carving in the groove through repeated acts of thanksgiving.
And it is going deeper.
This morning I sit and look out eastern window and see the sky crisscrossed by airplane trails and a light brushing of airy clouds. At first the trails and clouds are tinged pink with blue sky behind. Then as the light position changes, they lighten, taking on a more creamy hue with the brightening of the day.
I take note. I allow the beauty of the vastness of this watercolor piece brushed before me, this once in a life-time experience, to soak into my soul. Quite literally, the sky will never look like this again.
Kodak didn't capture it, but my heart did and in it thankfulness rose and all seemed to quiet within.
The clouds and airplane trails just are. They're shaped by the wind currents, painted by the sun, and somehow this morning they represent to me what it is to minister before the Lord.
Sometimes it will be in a set-aside time in a set-apart place with instruments and voices and an environment less cluttered than mine.
But most days, it's here where I get to be shaped by the Wind and painted by the Son and enjoyed by the One who set me here with these gifts to be discovered each day, these treasures He's hidden just for me to find.
And my thankful response...that is what ministers to Him.
~peace
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