Be Still and Know...Then and Now

No this is not a metaphor for the state of my mental health. This morning during my quiet time, I was met with the very pleasant sound of the birds. From time to time they will take up residence in my chimney. The early morning chirping was amplified and it sounded as if they were literally right there in my living room with me. I listened to the conversation of these birds and I began to think of how simple some things are and how complicated other things can be. For that quiet moment the birds chattered away and I just sat and drank my morning coffee and let the experience fill my quiet living room. It was a very good way to start the day. MT 6:25 "Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? 26 Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not mu...

This small sentence from today’s “Streams in the Desert” really spoke to me. “We must not overlook the fact that faith on our part helps God to carry out His plans.” I have to ask myself how many times does my doubt or my fear of a situation or possible my unwillingness to be obedient hinder God’s plan? The truth is that God never needs my help, but He always wants me to yield to His plan. He always wants me to be molded into a more Christ like person. I am the clay and He is the Heavenly potter. I must be willing to submit to His molding, I must be pliable and allow myself to be shaped into whatever vessel He would have me be. It is my faith in Him that gives me the strength to proceed with a difficult task I may be asked to do. It is my faith in God that gives me the perseverance to continue to pray over a seemingly hopeless situation. It is my faith that will eventually turn my perception of hopelessness into an eternal truth that God’s promises never fail ( JER 21:44). It is that...

What a difficult question to ask and an even more difficult process to go through. As parents we get a front row seat in this painful mini-drama. Sometimes there is a lot of blood shed, weather physically or emotionally. There is usually pain involved, lots of change, and a very real revelation that as much as we want good things for our children there comes a time when we have to step back and pray that the process will not be to painful for them to experience and for us to watch. I keep looking at my son, who chronologically is almost 19 years old, but emotionally and maturity wise he is closer to being about 16. The synapses in his brain have not yet made the connection that allow for rational or logical thinking. He still is operating under the assumption that as long as I don’t get caught then everything will be just fine. He motto is “Why tell the truth when a lie will work just fine!” The other enduring quality is his penchant for physical labor. The path of least resistance is ...

1. The rules of the game are posted at the beginning. 2. Each player answers the questions about themselves. 3. At the end of the post, the player then tags five people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves a comment letting them know they’ve been tagged and to ask them to play along and to read your blog. I've been taged so here goes! What I was doing 10 years ago – 1998 1. My son was 10 years old and still thought I was a good mom. 2. My daughter was 3 years old and thought I was the best mom in the world 3. I celebrated my 16 wedding anniversary 4. Began my Stephen Ministry Training Five things on my to-do list today – 1. Post to my blog 2. Balance my check book after putting it off for two months 3. Complete this questionnaire 4. Check the rates on a short getaway 5. Try to remain positive Five snacks I enjoy 1. Mini Carmel Rice Cakes 2. Noni Turtle Biscotti with a hot cup of Chai 3. Popcorn 4. Peanut Butter on Toast 5. Fruit in season (it has to be really ...

Live with a rebellious teenager for five minutes and you will know drama, weather it’s the unexpected facial apparatus or the hysterical antics of an ex-girlfriend that you hoped was long gone, drama lives on. I will be setting up a concession stand in the driveway later this afternoon in hopes of off-setting the family income with popcorn and milk duds’ revenue. I may even sell my living room sofa on EBay an install a row of stadium seating and surround sound so that I may fully enjoy the experience.

I will preface this posting with a warning. There will be no uplifting words, no profound spiritual truths, no encouraging statements, no warm fuzzy moments. I will from time to time depart from being a rational logical mature woman in favor of a hormonal shrew who can find nothing good in anything what so ever. You see my “beloved” son waked through my door this afternoon with a chin piercing. I looked into his face and felt the gorge in my stomach rising up my throat. I paused momentarily trying to decide weather it would be necessary to sprint for the bathroom where I could vomit in peace or burst into tears at the sight of this foreign object jutting out of his chin. I am not even sure what to call this foreign object, except hideous, revolting, nauseating, disgusting, nasty and down right unattractive. I remember showering sweet kisses all over his tiny toddler face and now I can’t even stand to look at it. I know if I say anything negative it will give him the satisfaction of kno...

Yesterday was the day. The weather was perfect, not to hot not to cold, with just enough of a breeze to keep things comfortable. I went in search of my garden gloves and pruning shears. The dead wood on my crepe myrtles awaited me. I know that this tedious task must be done, if I do not cut back the deadwood on the crepe myrtles then eventually the flowering of the tree will become top heavy and the branches will droop and hang over to the ground and the flowering will be poor. I do not know many situations in life that do not benefit from a bit of pruning. As I was whacking away at the barren straggly branches one by one I could not help but think back to the many (many, many) times over the years when I felt the painful slicing away of something in my life. I can vividly remember periods in my life where I felt like I resembled a lone stump jutting out of the ground with everything sharply pruned away. It is painful to be pruned. It is even more painful to be pruned when you can not ...

Is there anything better than waking on a Saturday morning to a heavy downpour? The sound of the muffled thunder and beating of the rain on the roof. I lay surrounded by my sleeping house in my warm bed, listening to these amazing sounds knowing that I could linger as long as I wished. I did not have to get up to go to work or take a child to the doctors office or make some important appointment. All I had to do was lay warm and cozy in my bed and listen to the welcome and the washing of a new day. What gift from the Lord.

I miss my old backyard! We moved into our first home about a year after my husband and I were married and then stayed there for 23 years. I know that is a long time. As I sit in my new house of just over two years, I long for the view I had from my old living room window. For as much as I miss my wonderful garden, I have to recognize that it did not “spring up” over night. I now have the opportunity to begin again with my blank slate of a back yard. Now when I say blank slate you may take my words literally for there is absolutely nothing in my back yard except for a few junipers hidden out of site on a small hill and a flat postage size area of Bermuda grass. Gone are the days of ¾ acre lots with beautiful hardwood trees. Now we have a lot barely bigger than the house that sits upon it, but in an effort to avoid complaining (I really do love my new house) I am trying to focus on the process of transforming my blank slate into something that will motivate me to open the blinds across t...

We talked about the act of confession on Sunday. I have decided that I really like the Greek translation of some of theses words. Several weeks ago it was Hupotasso the Greek word for Submit. We served this up smothered in gravy with a side order of home fries. This past Sunday we talked about an equally difficult concept. Confession, in the Greek it is translated as Omologeo the southern pronounced aaaaama -o- leeeeg -eh'- oooooo . It sounds like an expression of surprise. You are walking down the isle at the Wal -Mart and you run into an old high school friend and you say “ aaaaama -o- leeeeg -eh'- oooooo I cant remember the last time I saw you!” I know, I know a bit to corny, but somehow I don’t think Omologeo works as food metaphor. What does it mean? Our pastor, during his sermon this past Sunday pointed out a few of the meanings: To say as God says To acknowledge To recognize To admit To confess For me it means to open ones self up to the sin within my heart and lay i...

I am now officially unpacked. The Mountain Top never last as long as you would like it to. I even had to do laundry today. What a bummer!

It has been several days since we returned from the mountain. I must confess that I have yet to totally unpack. My suitcase still sits in my bedroom. I have removed some things from it out of necessity, however I have not totally unpacked. I would love to place some deep significance on my unwillingness to unpack on my desire to hold on to my mountaintop experience, but realistically it has more to do with my inherent laziness. We went to the mountain to get away to a quiet place. It was beautiful, it was breathtaking, and the mountain air was somehow different in our lungs than the city air we breath back here at home. We arrived with snow flurries and woke to mountain sunrises and spent the day in communion with the blue sky and our sisters in Christ. We had wonderful teaching and even more wonderful table fellowship. We pondered the meaning of what our legacy is. We asked ourselves what we want our legacy to be? We were asked: What seeds do I want to sow? Want kind of harvest do I w...

I return home from the mountain top feeling both renewed and exhausted. We laughed together and cried together. We talked into the morning hours and we enjoyed wonderful food and table fellowship. We were blown away by God’s creation. The mountains, the blue of the sky. I am still digesting it all. I wait with much anticipation for the unfolding of the experience. For now I have to catch up on my sleep and unpack.