1744 Haldingston, England
Help us, Father. Help Momma. Dear God, where are you?
Taran squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her forehead against the underside of her mother’s bedframe. The drape of the rose strewn coverlet touched her face and she cowered back, afraid to remind the stranger of her presence. The air clung to the echoes of her mother’s screams and terrified voice. They reverberated through Taran’s body and shook her heart from its place.
The man had burst in suddenly through the terrace doors as Taran lay with her mother on the cusp of sleep, her mother humming quietly to baby Kate sleeping nearby in the cradle.
From where her mother had pushed her between the wall and the bed, Taran heard the man speak gruffly with anger in his voice as he entered the room.
“Where is it?”
“You need to leave, now! You know I didn’t take it.” He advanced towards her and grabbed her as she screamed.
Taran heard a struggle and muffled words and then his breathing. Loud and rasping, animal-like. She keened to hear his movements over the deafening blood pumping through her temples. He walked toward Kate’s cradle with leaden steps and paused. Taran peeked out and caught a glimpse of his face. Kate was howling now.
Her father’s footsteps resounded below Taran’s head as he rushed towards the stairs, shouting to the servants. The intruder glanced toward the bed, meeting Taran’s startled gaze as she peered from beneath the coverlet. His eyes narrowed and he took a step towards her. The noise outside the room propelled him back. He flung his body out onto the terrace and into the darkened night. A moment later, her father burst into the room. She heard his sharp intake of breath as he bent over Corrine on the bed. He called her name over and over and then ran across the room to the open doors.
Taran shakily crawled out and over to Kate’s cradle. She took the baby in her arms and rocked her gently. Tears streamed down both of the sister’s faces, one still in the throws of indignation for interrupted sleep, blissfully unaware of the night’s import and the other with riveted gaze on her mother’s unmoving form.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Family
Family = You laugh together, cry together, many times you do this alone with everyone in your family not knowing. You share common colds, common attributes and common dislikes (sometimes for each other, if only briefly). made up of some form of mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, brothers, sister and furry pets on occasion. you know when you venture out, even if you left in strife, that the root is always there, your family roots, to pull you back in when there's trouble, dry your tears, hug you, love you, give you a good swat and many times send you on your way again to follow your dreams.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
The Birds
Remembrance is a funny thing. As we get older, some memories fade and some remain clear and still colorful, like looking at a "yesterday".
I wonder how long I'll remember that yellow bird from my yesterday. There were two actually. Flying high, and fast, in unison and swooping up and down. The flash of yellow on both their chests breaking the green of the treeline in the mid-morning light.
I'll remember the birds today and ponder. The one, then the other, now alone.
I don't want to remember the sound or the immediacy of my prayer.
I just know there's now one, not two.
A bird's brain is tiny. How long did it take the one to forget the other? To fly off alone and perch to rest, to drink and to eventually sleep.... Do birds miss? Do they cry one for the other?
As I sit, I think of who I would miss, what routines would change as people come and go.
Someday, this quantified time called life here on earth will be over.
Many people will only remember me for brief things, like a small smile or a nod hello or possibly an encouraging word.
Others will miss my day to day motions and the things that make me me or mom, wife, sister, or daughter.
We all would like to be somebody's bright memory, a flashing color against the treeline of life's memories and experiences.
I don't think I would be a bright yellow but maybe a muted pink, hopefully a rememberance of peace and calm in a storm and a reminder of quiet assurance in God.
.
I wonder how long I'll remember that yellow bird from my yesterday. There were two actually. Flying high, and fast, in unison and swooping up and down. The flash of yellow on both their chests breaking the green of the treeline in the mid-morning light.
I'll remember the birds today and ponder. The one, then the other, now alone.
I don't want to remember the sound or the immediacy of my prayer.
I just know there's now one, not two.
A bird's brain is tiny. How long did it take the one to forget the other? To fly off alone and perch to rest, to drink and to eventually sleep.... Do birds miss? Do they cry one for the other?
As I sit, I think of who I would miss, what routines would change as people come and go.
Someday, this quantified time called life here on earth will be over.
Many people will only remember me for brief things, like a small smile or a nod hello or possibly an encouraging word.
Others will miss my day to day motions and the things that make me me or mom, wife, sister, or daughter.
We all would like to be somebody's bright memory, a flashing color against the treeline of life's memories and experiences.
I don't think I would be a bright yellow but maybe a muted pink, hopefully a rememberance of peace and calm in a storm and a reminder of quiet assurance in God.
.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Psalm 115
Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, But to your name give glory.
Rivers of ivory eyeshadow cast a shimmery glow down her pale cheeks. She was alone in a sea of women. A retreat suggested by her pastor's wife. Just two short weeks before, at 20 weeks pregnant, she had lost her baby.
Because of Your mercy, Because of Your truth, Why should the Gentiles say, "So where is their God?"
She was sharing a room with 3 women from church. One of them, the key speaker. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying. Bloodshot. Nose continually running. A yearning inside her cried out for the touch of a consoling hand, a sympathetic word. None was given.
But our God is in heaven; He does whatever He pleases. Their idols are silver and gold, the work of men's hand. They have mouths, but they do not speak. Eyes they have, but they do not see, They have ears, but they do not hear; Noses they have; but they do not smell; They have hands, but they do not handle; Feet they have, but they do not walk; Nor do they mutter through their own throat. Those who make them are like them; So is everyone who trusts in them.
She wondered what all these women thought. This twenty-something woman of God.....was she trying to find her way? In tears she would break down at dinner or walk out during the prepared speeches, quietly unable to hold it together any longer.
O Israel, trust in the Lord; He is their help and their shield. O house of Aaron, trust in the Lord; He is their help and their shield. You who fear the Lord, trust in the Lord; He is their help and their shield.
Where was the sympathy, O Lord? The woman among the 100's to become your hands and your mouth? Are our hearts so hardened to anothers pain, our focus more on ourselves that to care for another and extend ourselves, is too much to ask?
The Lord has been mindful of us; He will bless us; He will bless the house of Israel; He will bless the house of Aaron. He will bless those who fear the Lord, Both small and great.
The rivers had flowed. Tears, the like of which had never been shed in her lifetime. Her heart mourned, bereft. Broken and still like the heart of her lifeless baby.
May the Lord give you increase more and more. You and your children. May you be blessed by the Lord, who made heaven and earth.
God took her heart and has been putting it back together piece-by-piece. Unrecognizable as her own, it has been fashioned after another, the likeness of who she will ever strive to achieve.
The heaven, even the heavens, are the Lord's; But the earth He has given to the children of men. The dead do not praise the Lord, nor any who go down into silence. But we will bless the Lord from this time forth and forevermore.
Open our mouths, O Lord. Open our hearts and ears. May we see and hear those who mourn. May we become your shoulders, to offer them up to be wept upon. May we become your mouth, to speak and let someone know they are not alone.
Praise the Lord!
Rivers of ivory eyeshadow cast a shimmery glow down her pale cheeks. She was alone in a sea of women. A retreat suggested by her pastor's wife. Just two short weeks before, at 20 weeks pregnant, she had lost her baby.
Because of Your mercy, Because of Your truth, Why should the Gentiles say, "So where is their God?"
She was sharing a room with 3 women from church. One of them, the key speaker. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying. Bloodshot. Nose continually running. A yearning inside her cried out for the touch of a consoling hand, a sympathetic word. None was given.
But our God is in heaven; He does whatever He pleases. Their idols are silver and gold, the work of men's hand. They have mouths, but they do not speak. Eyes they have, but they do not see, They have ears, but they do not hear; Noses they have; but they do not smell; They have hands, but they do not handle; Feet they have, but they do not walk; Nor do they mutter through their own throat. Those who make them are like them; So is everyone who trusts in them.
She wondered what all these women thought. This twenty-something woman of God.....was she trying to find her way? In tears she would break down at dinner or walk out during the prepared speeches, quietly unable to hold it together any longer.
O Israel, trust in the Lord; He is their help and their shield. O house of Aaron, trust in the Lord; He is their help and their shield. You who fear the Lord, trust in the Lord; He is their help and their shield.
Where was the sympathy, O Lord? The woman among the 100's to become your hands and your mouth? Are our hearts so hardened to anothers pain, our focus more on ourselves that to care for another and extend ourselves, is too much to ask?
The Lord has been mindful of us; He will bless us; He will bless the house of Israel; He will bless the house of Aaron. He will bless those who fear the Lord, Both small and great.
The rivers had flowed. Tears, the like of which had never been shed in her lifetime. Her heart mourned, bereft. Broken and still like the heart of her lifeless baby.
May the Lord give you increase more and more. You and your children. May you be blessed by the Lord, who made heaven and earth.
God took her heart and has been putting it back together piece-by-piece. Unrecognizable as her own, it has been fashioned after another, the likeness of who she will ever strive to achieve.
The heaven, even the heavens, are the Lord's; But the earth He has given to the children of men. The dead do not praise the Lord, nor any who go down into silence. But we will bless the Lord from this time forth and forevermore.
Open our mouths, O Lord. Open our hearts and ears. May we see and hear those who mourn. May we become your shoulders, to offer them up to be wept upon. May we become your mouth, to speak and let someone know they are not alone.
Praise the Lord!
Won't you come visit me in my pretty little brick house?
I wrote this in July of '08.
The walls are high and thick, covered with beautiful climbing vines. Cool to the touch both inside and out. Even on the hottest of days.
Oh, you can see the gardens from quite far away, lush and well cared for. Tulips bloom year round and the heads of the sunflowers reach high up to the sun. There's an abundance of wildflowers tended by a handsome man. I see him from my window, watering and planting. Carefully trying to find and pull the weeds. Sometimes he even grafts a new flower to brighten my view.
Today, he came to the door to show me some lovely yellow roses. I waved to him from my window....I wish I could have smelled them or let him in but you see there was no handle on the inside.
I look out almost every day out of different windows, some high, some low. Sometimes I can reach out and pluck a blossom, other times I just catch the sound of the nearby brook babbling happily over rocks.
The walls are a cool blue inside. There is a chair next to mine. Slippers for your feet and softly muted thick rugs beneath. I would pour us hot tea if you came, to take away the chill.
I do have guests, you know. Friends who have found keys hanging high near the sill on the outside. God has come and stayed a few times. He always leaves the door open. Sunshine pours in. Birds scatter near the doorway, eating crumbs that have fallen from the table. My children live here more times than not. The room is brightly colored as we play or talk.
I am alone alot looking into the tiny mirrors that cover the walls.....reflecting, reflecting always distorted images. When God visits, He insists on bringing his own mirror. It is beautiful, tall and wide. Its depths of color are unending. I look flawless and perfect. Jesus is always between the mirror and I, visiting too.
So, please come visit my little brick house. Maybe I will let you in or you can come and say hello to the man outside. Tell him I love him and one day we will live in a large house, all of us together. Until that day, he tends and waters and searches. There are days he leaves the garden and I am afraid he won't come back. He is so sad when he sees my friends enter and he cannot.
God has been staying longer and the little mirrors are slowly becoming unglued. One of these days my little brick house will crumble.
The walls are high and thick, covered with beautiful climbing vines. Cool to the touch both inside and out. Even on the hottest of days.
Oh, you can see the gardens from quite far away, lush and well cared for. Tulips bloom year round and the heads of the sunflowers reach high up to the sun. There's an abundance of wildflowers tended by a handsome man. I see him from my window, watering and planting. Carefully trying to find and pull the weeds. Sometimes he even grafts a new flower to brighten my view.
Today, he came to the door to show me some lovely yellow roses. I waved to him from my window....I wish I could have smelled them or let him in but you see there was no handle on the inside.
I look out almost every day out of different windows, some high, some low. Sometimes I can reach out and pluck a blossom, other times I just catch the sound of the nearby brook babbling happily over rocks.
The walls are a cool blue inside. There is a chair next to mine. Slippers for your feet and softly muted thick rugs beneath. I would pour us hot tea if you came, to take away the chill.
I do have guests, you know. Friends who have found keys hanging high near the sill on the outside. God has come and stayed a few times. He always leaves the door open. Sunshine pours in. Birds scatter near the doorway, eating crumbs that have fallen from the table. My children live here more times than not. The room is brightly colored as we play or talk.
I am alone alot looking into the tiny mirrors that cover the walls.....reflecting, reflecting always distorted images. When God visits, He insists on bringing his own mirror. It is beautiful, tall and wide. Its depths of color are unending. I look flawless and perfect. Jesus is always between the mirror and I, visiting too.
So, please come visit my little brick house. Maybe I will let you in or you can come and say hello to the man outside. Tell him I love him and one day we will live in a large house, all of us together. Until that day, he tends and waters and searches. There are days he leaves the garden and I am afraid he won't come back. He is so sad when he sees my friends enter and he cannot.
God has been staying longer and the little mirrors are slowly becoming unglued. One of these days my little brick house will crumble.
Simpler Times
Remember warm summer nights and catching fireflies....
Being tucked into bed really tightly and falling asleep right away....
Night lights that you stared at until your eyes hurt and blinked asleep.....
Raggedy Anne and Andy dolls.....
The ice cream truck, your friends and a quarter clutched tightly in your fist.....
Babysitters that took you outside on hot summer days to play in the sprinkler together.....
VW Bugs, station wagons, and no seat belts......
Really hot cars with seats that burned your legs, on a summer day......
Dirty bare feet, hot tubs, and warm jammies.....
Dressing early on a school morning by the fireplace or coal stove....
Snow storms where you put your milk outside the door to stay cold since you had no power.....for days....
Singing your sister Silent Night to help her fall asleep and you be less scared of the night.....
Looking for Rudolph's nose as your breath steamed up the window pane, Christmas night.....
Staying up late, anticipating and wanting to and not wanting to watch The Wizard of Oz.......
Always feeling watched over, even just by God.....
Being tucked into bed really tightly and falling asleep right away....
Night lights that you stared at until your eyes hurt and blinked asleep.....
Raggedy Anne and Andy dolls.....
The ice cream truck, your friends and a quarter clutched tightly in your fist.....
Babysitters that took you outside on hot summer days to play in the sprinkler together.....
VW Bugs, station wagons, and no seat belts......
Really hot cars with seats that burned your legs, on a summer day......
Dirty bare feet, hot tubs, and warm jammies.....
Dressing early on a school morning by the fireplace or coal stove....
Snow storms where you put your milk outside the door to stay cold since you had no power.....for days....
Singing your sister Silent Night to help her fall asleep and you be less scared of the night.....
Looking for Rudolph's nose as your breath steamed up the window pane, Christmas night.....
Staying up late, anticipating and wanting to and not wanting to watch The Wizard of Oz.......
Always feeling watched over, even just by God.....
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
If you could paint.....
If you could paint as beautiful a picture as the world around you what would you paint?
This thought has been trundling through my brain this afternoon as I drove down the back roads near our home.
There's such a difference between here and the city where I visited this morning an hour's drive away.
Yet, the city was teeming with a different sort of life and the faces of the people. Faces young and old. Faces harried and rushed getting to and from work, waiting for the neverending stream of buses on the corner. Faces of mothers calmly walking with their children in the beautiful late morning sunshine. An old man, haggard and balding, tired...yet beautiful in his own right.
What a beautiful creation this world is and the people in it.
I got off of the highway at an earlier than normal exit and meandered down my favorite treelined, dappled back road towards home. The road dips and curves with several areas of marsh on either side and my favorite, favorite spot with an open grain field and right behind it a beautiful, majestic hill just calling my name each time I drive past.
This road was the first one we took when we looked at our home for the first time. Desperately trying to keep speed with the real estate agent in front of us in her own car and wondering where on earth this long windy road was leading. My breath caught and held on that rainy afternoon as we rounded a corner and I caught sight of the hill. An indelible image kept forever in my minds eye.
Many days I don't have to go past these four walls to just have my breath caught by the wonder of God's creations. My children with their scrummy hands, fresh from the mulch beds clutching the first yellow signs of spring. Little kisses, the grins of a favorite treat enjoyed or just relaxing watching a movie, blankets all around and little sleepy faces almost ready for bed.
It is one of my heart's greatest desires to paint a picture with words that would do justice to the beauty around me. I am still endeavoring and pondering and sometimes I'm thinking too much but we all have such beauty around us all the time, don't we?
So, if you could paint a picture with words as beautiful as the world around you, what would you paint?
This thought has been trundling through my brain this afternoon as I drove down the back roads near our home.
There's such a difference between here and the city where I visited this morning an hour's drive away.
Yet, the city was teeming with a different sort of life and the faces of the people. Faces young and old. Faces harried and rushed getting to and from work, waiting for the neverending stream of buses on the corner. Faces of mothers calmly walking with their children in the beautiful late morning sunshine. An old man, haggard and balding, tired...yet beautiful in his own right.
What a beautiful creation this world is and the people in it.
I got off of the highway at an earlier than normal exit and meandered down my favorite treelined, dappled back road towards home. The road dips and curves with several areas of marsh on either side and my favorite, favorite spot with an open grain field and right behind it a beautiful, majestic hill just calling my name each time I drive past.
This road was the first one we took when we looked at our home for the first time. Desperately trying to keep speed with the real estate agent in front of us in her own car and wondering where on earth this long windy road was leading. My breath caught and held on that rainy afternoon as we rounded a corner and I caught sight of the hill. An indelible image kept forever in my minds eye.
Many days I don't have to go past these four walls to just have my breath caught by the wonder of God's creations. My children with their scrummy hands, fresh from the mulch beds clutching the first yellow signs of spring. Little kisses, the grins of a favorite treat enjoyed or just relaxing watching a movie, blankets all around and little sleepy faces almost ready for bed.
It is one of my heart's greatest desires to paint a picture with words that would do justice to the beauty around me. I am still endeavoring and pondering and sometimes I'm thinking too much but we all have such beauty around us all the time, don't we?
So, if you could paint a picture with words as beautiful as the world around you, what would you paint?
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Spongebob, the magic conch shell, and God....
Let me first state I am a Christian. I believe in God. But as I looked at the episode on tv this morning, I see how people could look at how I believe in God and how crazy it is like Spongebob and Patrick beliving in the magic conch.
If you haven't seen the episode you probably have no idea what I'm talking about. Spongebob and Patrick would ask this magic conch questions and depending on what the answer was, they would or would not do things according to it.
I am a Christian. I believe in God. But as I looked at the episode I see how people could look at what Patrick and Spongebob believed and think they were off their rocker (which is what Squidward believed). They said the magic conch gave them food when it was indeed an airplane dropping the load it was carrying at that exact moment. There was an instant where I believe the ranger that found them said, "The magic conch sent me" or something like that.
We as Christians truly believe in our God. We believe He hears our prayers, clothes us, provides for us...our jobs, healing, most facets of our lives.
As I was standing in the kitchen, I saw the absurdity. I saw the "foolishness" of my beliefs. Could I say I had a moment of doubt, hmm maybe a twinkling. And then I looked back. I looked back at the moments He revealed Himself to me. Not just to the "feelings" or the untouchable.
BUT to when He actually tried to change the course of my life. The day I had a voice (in my head, like a thought) telling me to close the window. It was so insistent I finally had to say out loud "L:eave me alone, there is only one window in the house open, it is hot in here and I am not closing it". Little did I know, as a young Christian, that that was the Holy Spirit's voice.
THAT NIGHT an intruder entered our home through that window.
Or the time years later (you think I would have learned) when that little voice was telling me to lock my car door. I had my hands full of groceries. I reasoned my way not to. That night all the cars were broken into in the neighborhood.
I could go on and on with examples of warnings or prompts to pray, or even greater, Answered Prayer...most times answered in the way I hadn't imagined.
It truly is about relationship. This belief. This Christianity. AND it isn't about what God does for me or can give to me but a greater thing. This relationship. This love I have searched for my whole life, in all the wrong places most of it.
The feeling that no man or material possession could fill up the hole that was inside of me until I found Jesus.
I often wonder why people don't take a chance. They buy a lottery ticket even though it costs them. They take a chance on love, a job...all sorts of things that cost them so much financially or personally.
I asked the Lord into my heart as a teenager watching Pat Robertson on TV. I didn't know all the places it would lead me and how Jesus would reveal Himself to me personally through the Holy Spirit, which is our "deposit" until He returns.
Take a chance. Ask Jesus into your heart. You doubt Him revealing Himself? Well, it won't cost you anything. Just maybe your pride when He proves Himself very much alive and real.
I have posted the Sinner's prayer below if anyone would like to take a chance on Love.
“Father, I know that I have broken your laws and my sins have separated me from you. I am truly sorry, and now I want to turn away from my past sinful life toward you. Please forgive me, and help me avoid sinning again. I believe that your son, Jesus Christ died for my sins, was resurrected from the dead, is alive, and hears my prayer. I invite Jesus to become the Lord of my life, to rule and reign in my heart from this day forward. Please send your Holy Spirit to help me obey You, and to do Your will for the rest of my life. In Jesus' name I pray, Amen.”
If you haven't seen the episode you probably have no idea what I'm talking about. Spongebob and Patrick would ask this magic conch questions and depending on what the answer was, they would or would not do things according to it.
I am a Christian. I believe in God. But as I looked at the episode I see how people could look at what Patrick and Spongebob believed and think they were off their rocker (which is what Squidward believed). They said the magic conch gave them food when it was indeed an airplane dropping the load it was carrying at that exact moment. There was an instant where I believe the ranger that found them said, "The magic conch sent me" or something like that.
We as Christians truly believe in our God. We believe He hears our prayers, clothes us, provides for us...our jobs, healing, most facets of our lives.
As I was standing in the kitchen, I saw the absurdity. I saw the "foolishness" of my beliefs. Could I say I had a moment of doubt, hmm maybe a twinkling. And then I looked back. I looked back at the moments He revealed Himself to me. Not just to the "feelings" or the untouchable.
BUT to when He actually tried to change the course of my life. The day I had a voice (in my head, like a thought) telling me to close the window. It was so insistent I finally had to say out loud "L:eave me alone, there is only one window in the house open, it is hot in here and I am not closing it". Little did I know, as a young Christian, that that was the Holy Spirit's voice.
THAT NIGHT an intruder entered our home through that window.
Or the time years later (you think I would have learned) when that little voice was telling me to lock my car door. I had my hands full of groceries. I reasoned my way not to. That night all the cars were broken into in the neighborhood.
I could go on and on with examples of warnings or prompts to pray, or even greater, Answered Prayer...most times answered in the way I hadn't imagined.
It truly is about relationship. This belief. This Christianity. AND it isn't about what God does for me or can give to me but a greater thing. This relationship. This love I have searched for my whole life, in all the wrong places most of it.
The feeling that no man or material possession could fill up the hole that was inside of me until I found Jesus.
I often wonder why people don't take a chance. They buy a lottery ticket even though it costs them. They take a chance on love, a job...all sorts of things that cost them so much financially or personally.
I asked the Lord into my heart as a teenager watching Pat Robertson on TV. I didn't know all the places it would lead me and how Jesus would reveal Himself to me personally through the Holy Spirit, which is our "deposit" until He returns.
Take a chance. Ask Jesus into your heart. You doubt Him revealing Himself? Well, it won't cost you anything. Just maybe your pride when He proves Himself very much alive and real.
I have posted the Sinner's prayer below if anyone would like to take a chance on Love.
“Father, I know that I have broken your laws and my sins have separated me from you. I am truly sorry, and now I want to turn away from my past sinful life toward you. Please forgive me, and help me avoid sinning again. I believe that your son, Jesus Christ died for my sins, was resurrected from the dead, is alive, and hears my prayer. I invite Jesus to become the Lord of my life, to rule and reign in my heart from this day forward. Please send your Holy Spirit to help me obey You, and to do Your will for the rest of my life. In Jesus' name I pray, Amen.”
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Lessons From Two Trees
As I drove down the road where I live today, I noticed the two trees in my neighbors driveway that are always facing me as I pull into our home.
Today I noticed the one, lush and still green, taller than the other. Seeming to mock the smaller tree next to it. The smaller looked dead. No leaves. Just bare limbs stretching up to the sky. Looking for sunlight to filter through the green splendor of its bigger neighbor.
Funny, I had never noticed the small bare tree before. Focusing more on the large one in the foreground. I have been praying to God for a spirit of meekness for several months. As I looked at the trees, I imagined their roots and how deep they were. The water that sustained them in the drought we had had last summer and fall. The dormant season and the season where the roots dig deep to gather sustanance for the growth to come.
I decided I would like to be like that bare tree. Sinking my roots deep, gaining sustanance for times to come. Withholding outward beauty, staying in the shadow and being remembered sometimes just by God.
He always sees our true beauty. That which our soul cries out but is unseen by the natural eye.
Today I noticed the one, lush and still green, taller than the other. Seeming to mock the smaller tree next to it. The smaller looked dead. No leaves. Just bare limbs stretching up to the sky. Looking for sunlight to filter through the green splendor of its bigger neighbor.
Funny, I had never noticed the small bare tree before. Focusing more on the large one in the foreground. I have been praying to God for a spirit of meekness for several months. As I looked at the trees, I imagined their roots and how deep they were. The water that sustained them in the drought we had had last summer and fall. The dormant season and the season where the roots dig deep to gather sustanance for the growth to come.
I decided I would like to be like that bare tree. Sinking my roots deep, gaining sustanance for times to come. Withholding outward beauty, staying in the shadow and being remembered sometimes just by God.
He always sees our true beauty. That which our soul cries out but is unseen by the natural eye.
The Last Time I Surprise Myself....
Was when I had to humble myself. When I had to toss my pride out the window and all the things that the world would cherish and place it at His feet. When I had to admit I was wrong and admit I wasn't in control. And not only that....when I had to tell those who would persecute me, people that dislike Christians beyond measure these things and just let God take over. When I had to feel like less than a flea and slightly better than "the dog that ate the scraps that fell from the table". (Luke 15:27)
And in so doing I surprised myself. I found not condemnation but an unending Love beyond measure. I found the peace of walking the path He set before me and being guided and shielded by His mighty Hand.
And in so doing I surprised myself. I found not condemnation but an unending Love beyond measure. I found the peace of walking the path He set before me and being guided and shielded by His mighty Hand.
How High Is Your Wall?
I can't see over this wall. Many days it is like a fortress protecting me from the outside world. Against more hurt and disillusionment. Most days it is like a prison.
If I peer down really low I can see some of the first bricks that were layed. A few are from when I was in 1st grade and I lost my two front teeth playing Red Rover. The kids called me names. Theres more next to and on top of those, the ones that were built when my parents fought and eventually divorced when I was 8. Cracking and old yet they still remain and hold up the others I have added over the years.
I noticed today there were new bricks...still wet with cement. I cried to see them. NO! They weren't going to hem me in anymore. I tore at them with my hands. I smiled at the person they were intended to keep out. I put my pride behind me and forgave. I tried to see life from their view. The bricks loosened and came down.
There are moments where someone can smile at me...just waiting on me behind a counter or opening the door for me. I feel another brick fall. It is amazing how fast they can come down with a little kindness. The bricks come down more quickly when I extend myself over the wall and reach out. I've actually seen amazing things happen, like a door suddenly appearing in my wall or a window being thrown open.
Lots of times the people that have loosened my bricks don't even know it. It can be a post on here or a response to a post. Its amazing how a little kindness, compassion or mercy can affect so many and you wouldn't even know.
I have little ones now. I'm a Mom with a capital M. Today a few bricks fell when my 4 year old brought me the first daffodils of the season, gripped in his muddy hand. I pray he hasn't started his wall yet and that over the years he learns how to knock them down and NOT rebuild.
Blessings,
Laura
If I peer down really low I can see some of the first bricks that were layed. A few are from when I was in 1st grade and I lost my two front teeth playing Red Rover. The kids called me names. Theres more next to and on top of those, the ones that were built when my parents fought and eventually divorced when I was 8. Cracking and old yet they still remain and hold up the others I have added over the years.
I noticed today there were new bricks...still wet with cement. I cried to see them. NO! They weren't going to hem me in anymore. I tore at them with my hands. I smiled at the person they were intended to keep out. I put my pride behind me and forgave. I tried to see life from their view. The bricks loosened and came down.
There are moments where someone can smile at me...just waiting on me behind a counter or opening the door for me. I feel another brick fall. It is amazing how fast they can come down with a little kindness. The bricks come down more quickly when I extend myself over the wall and reach out. I've actually seen amazing things happen, like a door suddenly appearing in my wall or a window being thrown open.
Lots of times the people that have loosened my bricks don't even know it. It can be a post on here or a response to a post. Its amazing how a little kindness, compassion or mercy can affect so many and you wouldn't even know.
I have little ones now. I'm a Mom with a capital M. Today a few bricks fell when my 4 year old brought me the first daffodils of the season, gripped in his muddy hand. I pray he hasn't started his wall yet and that over the years he learns how to knock them down and NOT rebuild.
Blessings,
Laura
Missing the Party...
I was missing the party!
It wasn't a planned event. People had dropped by, more followed. I had stretched the dinner we had, to feed so many. In between cooking or figuring out what else I could scrounge up, I would go out among the guests and gather plates and utensils to wash (so noone would notice the lack).
But I was missing it!
There were a few people closer to the door of the kitchen that I would chat with. They were appreciative of all my efforts, seeing my hard work.
Some people were starting to leave, I was upset......
I had a message for one. Another had offerred to lend me dessert plates, at this point I couldn't just run to the store to buy them.
I'm missing the party.
Does this story sound familiar to you? Maybe not. Most of the entertaining we do these days, people gather around the kitchen....where the meal is being prepared and they can talk to the host(s).
But what if there were a Guest of Honor? Do you remember this scripture?
38As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. 39She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet listening to what he said. 40But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, "Lord, don't you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!"
41"Martha, Martha," the Lord answered, "you are worried and upset about many things, 42but only one thing is needed.[f] Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her."
Not only was I missing the "party" AND the Guest of Honor but I was making myself so busy in the process that I......
Was missing someone I had an important message for (I was only talking to those near my small kitchen).
AND
I needed something from someone else that I couldn't find at another time or any place else.
Don't miss YOUR party.....which is your life. We are so busy serving, cleaning up everyones messes, making sure noone sees a lack within us or our surroundings.
STOP and "smell the roses", look up at the sky.
Notice the trees stretching so tall, reaching up just to touch the hem of the Guest of Honor.
~Laura
It wasn't a planned event. People had dropped by, more followed. I had stretched the dinner we had, to feed so many. In between cooking or figuring out what else I could scrounge up, I would go out among the guests and gather plates and utensils to wash (so noone would notice the lack).
But I was missing it!
There were a few people closer to the door of the kitchen that I would chat with. They were appreciative of all my efforts, seeing my hard work.
Some people were starting to leave, I was upset......
I had a message for one. Another had offerred to lend me dessert plates, at this point I couldn't just run to the store to buy them.
I'm missing the party.
Does this story sound familiar to you? Maybe not. Most of the entertaining we do these days, people gather around the kitchen....where the meal is being prepared and they can talk to the host(s).
But what if there were a Guest of Honor? Do you remember this scripture?
38As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. 39She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet listening to what he said. 40But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, "Lord, don't you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!"
41"Martha, Martha," the Lord answered, "you are worried and upset about many things, 42but only one thing is needed.[f] Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her."
Not only was I missing the "party" AND the Guest of Honor but I was making myself so busy in the process that I......
Was missing someone I had an important message for (I was only talking to those near my small kitchen).
AND
I needed something from someone else that I couldn't find at another time or any place else.
Don't miss YOUR party.....which is your life. We are so busy serving, cleaning up everyones messes, making sure noone sees a lack within us or our surroundings.
STOP and "smell the roses", look up at the sky.
Notice the trees stretching so tall, reaching up just to touch the hem of the Guest of Honor.
~Laura
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