Through the Lenses

Headed down the highway, I watched the hills grow taller as I draw nearer to them. Through a blue and white cloud speckled sky, the sun filtered down. Wearing my sunglasses, I can see shafts of light carved through the sky; faintly lighter than their surroundings. Flipping my sunglasses to rest on top of my head, the differentiated light beams disappear. Glasses on again, and the light beams show up again. The lenses serve as filters to let me see the world differently. It struck me how different lenses impact the way I interact with my world. Just by adding or removing my sunglasses, my entire perspective changed. I started to think, what lenses do I need to put on each day?

Do I put on a lens of love? Do I love my neighbors like I want to be loved? Do I give them the benefit-of-the-doubt? Do I seek out ways to encourage and support them? Love has so many meanings. I can love a thing, a person, a place, a choice, an action, etc… Even though the word is the same in the English language, it has many nuances to explain depth of feeling and commitment attached to each, and each are very different. Just to give two differing ends of the spectrum, I can love a song. It can encourage me, make housework a little more up-beat, or just help set a mood. But that song, as much as I love it, is normally a blip on the timeline of my life. It pops up here and there, but it’s not a constant choice to love. I can love people with a lifetime of love that is a binder through mountains and valleys. This is a constant choice to love. The words found in 1 Thessalonians 5:8 are strong, “But let us who are of the day be sober, putting on the breastplate of faith and love, and as a helmet the hope of salvation.”  A breastplate, worn by a Roman solider is an example of being covered to protect the chest and back. With two main pieces, this armor was shaped to the body. Hinged on one side, and then fastened by buckles, the breastplate was further connected with bands of metal or strips of leather, passing over the shoulders and tying in the front. Love is mentioned as armor; in battle faithfulness and love serve as needed protection; a strong word, both individually and within the body of Christ to create unity. Christ is the armor and the source of faith and love; I rely on him for the strength to love.
 

Do I put on a lens of joy? Joy is drawn from a deep well, one that is far greater than happiness. Do I depend on the strength which comes from reliance on the Lord? Do I let joy color my thoughts and actions as I go about my day? I have so many blessings, many more than I count; and I’m actually quite happy. This morning alone, I have laughed deep belly laughs with family, those that are so good for our bodies and spirits. Yet, I need to distinguish between happy and joy, as they tend to be used interchangeably at times – and yet are not the same. Joy is present when I am not happy. Joy is an unlikely load-bearer that supports so many other things. Joy brings strength and long-term perspective that sorrow and sin cannot take away, for they will pass away and joy remains! Joy has the unshakable tenacity of faith and the strength of love. That long-term joy is expressed in 1 Peter 1:8 as “inexpressible and glorious.” As I sit here in the morning sun, rocking on the porch swing, I try to think of how to describe joy. I think it is a little like trying to describe the sun. Imagine that you have never seen or felt the sun. I can give you a scientific and fact filled description that tells how our sun is a dwarf star. The facts will be true, but won’t start to explain the feel of the sun’s warmth, the power of its heat, or the brightness of its light. Joy is like these things; simple and complex. Joy’s long-term view makes me see that if joy is this great in a fallen world, how much greater will it be when I am one day with Jesus.

Do I put on a lens of peace? Peace, as a gift that the world cannot give, is a reliance on something much greater than my own abilities. Anytime people come together, each carries their own thoughts, preconceptions, ambitions, opinions, perspectives, and varying degrees of skill on how to express them. It can lead to a fragmented nightmare or a harmonious body working in concert. Working with all of the other lenses that have been mentioned before, and will be mentioned after, peace calls to rule my heart and mind every day. I get up, get dressed, let out the dogs, get coffee (a necessity for my brain to work), and start my day. I will have many minute and a few large choices throughout the day, where I can choose to be ruled in peace or not. I know what it feels like to have anxiety swelling in my ribs, restricting breathing and making thinking difficult. I recognize this feeling, this is not the peace of Christ I have been given. Actively taking hold of that gift, I reclaim the peace which “transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” This peace, described in Philippians 4:7 is a jewel that has such worth that the price can never be met, it is truly a gift. The peace of God is a clarifying light. It brings order to the soul and shows that fear is a mere shadow. Peace is the result of time with Jesus. Not only as my Heavenly Savior, but as one who has walked this earth, laughed and cried, made friends and enemies, loved, healed, fed, and gave His love to us as a faithful gift of life upon the cross with His death. His peace is truly unique, it is not dependent upon circumstances, people, or places. It only depends upon Him.

Do I put on a lens of kindness? Kindness seems to be a word that can be easily diluted, making it into something lesser than intended. Ephesians 2 tells me that it was a kindness of Jesus in bringing grace; a point I certainly won’t argue with. But this perspective deepens the meaning of kindness for me; kindness being sacrificial and selfless giving. Am I kind when asked to give of myself, my time, my talents, or my resources? Not to be pushed into unhealthy extremes, where I am left empty and unable to give; but in a manner to put my neighbors first. Do I seek to show them kindness in the little daily things and the big sacrificial things? My calendar seems to be ever-filling, my to-do list ever-growing. It is easy for me to become caught in the busy aspects of the day, and simply overlook how a few sentences in a conversation, a quick text, a phone call, a letter, a card, or just being there can change someone else’s day completely. We need these kindnesses, I need these kindnesses. A kindness I think of is a return from a very hard trip a few months ago. When I got home, a friend had not only taken care of the house and the dogs, she had given of herself and gone above and beyond. After the luggage was in and I collapsed on the couch, I noticed that floor had been swept, the windows washed, and food was waiting in the refrigerator. Little things are enormously impactful, when done in kindness. Grace can never be repaid, and it was a gift of kindness; a powerful lens indeed. 

Do I put on a lens of goodness? A missionary visited and spoke on that very subject, using Galatians 6:1-10 as his text. Goodness, like kindness, can be used in ways to make it less than its intended meaning. Doing good, do good, and share good; actions are paired with this word goodness. Printed hand in hand, moving me forward in action, goodness inspires change. This is not come-uppance piety. Goodness is truth, the light of Christ, and the salvation of grace. The lens of goodness propels me to action as I encounter people either in physical proximity or virtually across the globe in need of the Truth of Christ. Goodness is sharing what we have learned with each other, not making each one go-it-alone; how lonely would our world be. Goodness is sown for a rich harvest. When I work in my flower bed, I admit that as much as I enjoy planting and picking, I don’t love to weed. I firmly believe that one weeding a year should be sufficient for the entire growing season. Invariably, it takes quite a bit more sweat equity as those weeds keep coming back and the plants need tended. As we give goodness to others, the harvest can be slow in coming. It can be a discouraging process as the weeds try to choke out the fruit, the deer nibble on the stems, and the weather doesn’t cooperate. Just like in my flower bed, I cannot simply give up and walk away. Instead, I pull weeds again. I stake the plants, water the flowers, and put out something to discourage the deer. The effort is worth the work as I pause to enjoy the beauty of the blooms, the structure of the leaves, and the fragrance that perfumes the air. Over and over, this long-term view of goodness is needed as we invest in each other for the glory of God and their gain.  

Do I put on a lens of faithfulness? I have always been interested in medieval history, read the stories of chivalry and honor. But, faithfulness is more than being honor bound to a feudal lord for battle service. Faithfulness is choosing to lead the life Christ led me to lead, even when it is not the life I planned. Am I faithful to honor promises I have made? Am I faithful to continuously seek after Christ, to put him first in my whole life? This word faithful is a mountain of a word, it is so large that to scale it can be a worthy, but daunting, challenge. Faithfulness makes me careful what I attach promises or a handshake agreement to, whether it is of small or large consequence. The lack of faithfulness, the breaking of trust in a relationship, creates cracks that require immediate attention and repair. Without that, they will continue to grow, ever wide and deeper, causing severe damage. And yet, what an example is Jesus to me of faithfulness, as I have certainly broken his trust before. As the Master Builder, he not only rebuilds, but moves to restore; many times making that relationship better and stronger than it was previously. To me, one of the very best definitions of faithfulness is in 1 Thessalonians 5:24, where the word “will” is used. This is a definitive word. The verse states that not only is Jesus keeping faith, and can be trusted – but he will fulfill his promises. He is faithful when I am not, and continues to draw me back to a solid rock upon which the foundation of trust is built and is strong. 

Do I put on a lens of gentleness? I love this word, gentle. It is a soft word, and many have mistakenly perceived it as weak. Yet, a gentle touch can restore, a gentle word can change the tide of a life, and a gentle moment can create a safe harbor amidst the storms. Gentleness can sting, words spoken in love can still hurt. But the intent behind them is to build, encourage and restore; not to destroy and tear apart. Gentleness paired with a quiet spirit is described as something of unfading beauty in 1 Peter 3. In this particular case, it is a woman's attributes being described. Though this week I am happily skipping the make-up, as it would just melt off anyway, I certainly understand the desire being spoken of in 1 Peter to be thought of as beautiful and think every woman does. We choose clothing, our hair styles, shoes, jewelry and many accessories to accentuate our best features. Though I may wish on Monday morning I could go to work dressed in my sweat pants and a comfortable t-shirt, that is not how I want to be seen there. As Shakespeare says, “Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks within his bending sickle’s compass come.” The sickle of time happens to us all as we continue our lives. The beauty of photo edits and editorials in the magazines changes as we age. Life and laugh lines are something to be proud of, but rarely touted as such. White hair, earned through a life well lived is not a disgrace. Yet, here is this unfading beauty, a gentle and quiet spirited woman. 

Do I put on a lens of self-control? Not controlling, or attempting to control others; but control over myself is the focus of this lens. Author Evelyn Christenson wrote a series of books to women focused on strengthening their prayer lives, one of which is called Lord, Change Me. Realizing that it is only herself that she could work to change, the focus of her prayers became those things that Christ wanted to change in her own life. Titus 1 and 2 covers quite a bit on the value of the older generation teaching the younger a variety of things, including self-control. To teach how to self-monitor and change actions, thoughts, and how we act on our emotions can be a valuable lesson. Ironically, by letting Christ change me, it can be an example and a change agent for someone else. My thoughts land on two-women, one who did not not display self-control and one who did. They both faced the same task, they both felt stressors at about the same point. One unleashed her stress in a torrent of angry words and general unpleasantness at whomever happened to be standing by at the time. People tended to either pull back and avoid being the object of misplaced wrath; or rather meanly, provoke the outburst just to watch and laugh. She appeared a fool. The other woman displayed self-control, choosing her words and reactions. She chose to be gently strong, handling issues with a measure of graceful leadership that both moved the project forward and cared for the people involved. She created an atmosphere of openness, where ideas were shared, and was very productive. Needless to say people love to work with her. We all face challenges and difficulties. I am not perfect and in a moment of stress or fatigue, I can lose control of my tongue, temper, or the moment in general. Relying on the self-control of Christ can provide me with the strength to make wise choices, keep good habits going, and extend grace to others when needed (especially because I will need it myself).  

It sounds as if I need multiple lenses to look through each day. I choose to look through the lenses of love, joy, peace, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. “Against such things there is no law.” These lenses color my world in a unique way, and change the way I interact with it.

Big Questions from Little Seeds

Tiny seeds slowly drift down from Cottonwood trees, riding white threaded parachutes. Some seeds landed on the grass, others landed on the track where I was walking yesterday. Just drifting at the mercy of the wind, some seedlings continued to an area where they will start the cycle of life to become new trees. Others remained in areas where trees will not grow.

This summer I have had many seedlings start to become beautiful little trees; many of which seem determined to come up in the wrong places. Green and beautifully growing, sprouts are found in potted plants, cozied up right next to the house and in flower beds. While some can be transplanted, others have to be pulled up or cut down. Holding these tiny seeds in my hand made me think about seeds in my life. Walking along, I was considering a two part question: what seeds are being sown by me and what seedlings are coming up in my life? 

What seeds are being sown by me? Are my words full of truth, grace, mercy and seasoned with salt? Are my actions demonstrating values of love that is bearing, believing, hoping and enduring? What about the heart behind these things; is it self-focused or as a servant heart? Continuing to walk around the track, I used the time to focusing on these questions and know that if I answer honestly, my best answer would have to be - sometimes. I can have seeds in my hand, ready to plant when fatigue, fear, or simple distractions in my everyday life causes poor planting. Seeds land in shallow soil or on rocks where the roots cannot grow as needed. I am glad that God gave me the ability to learn from my lessons (and even laugh at myself through some of them) as I continue to work on this.

What about the seedlings coming up in my life? Weeds are persistent; I wish every year as I work in the yard that once the garden was weeded, it stayed that way! But, they seem to tirelessly spring up again and again. So, I consider what I need to root out and what do I need to continue to root out? This last month and a half, I have felt vulnerable walking through a season of grief, did I seek out the extra stability needed from God’s word and spending time with Him? Am I seeking out the nourishment and water that seeds need to grow strong? Again, I thank God that in these questions that He is the Master Creator that ultimately makes good plants grow and will plan and work with me in my garden.  

Many questions, all good to pursue. Not out of guilt or fear; but with joy in sitting and enjoying a worthy labor, and knowing that my dirty hands have helped to make a garden grow well. 

“Then He spoke many things to them in parables, saying: ‘Behold, a sower went out to sow. And as he sowed, some seed fell by the wayside; and the birds came and devoured them. Some fell on stony places, where they did not have much earth; and they immediately sprang up because they had no depth of earth. But when the sun was up they were scorched, and because they had no root they withered away. And some fell among thorns, and the thorns sprang up and choked them. But others fell on good ground and yielded a crop: some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty. He who has ears to hear, let him hear!’” ~ Matthew 13:3-9  

Cultivating Joy

On my way into work, I noticed a church had updated their sign.  It cheerfully read, “Enjoy the blessings of summer!”  That thought stayed with me as I continued on my way into work, and I started to count up blessings of summer and the seasons beyond.  I thought about the seasons themselves and the blessings that they hold; the four seasons recognized in our year and the many throughout our lives.

“Enjoy the blessings,” I cannot stop my thoughts from jumping from blessings to joy.  This is joy that goes over and above my own understanding of blessings.  The joy of the Lord, a blessing of fruit that nourishes and sustains when there are difficult times, that is something to be recognized and cultivated!  I thought that Psalm 30 caught this so well, a joy that permeates the seasons.    The words capture the seasons of life, feeling secure, feeling the need of mercy and throughout there is joy. 

This is not a vapid joy, washed out with the fatigues and difficulties of life.  It is a vibrant joy, warming and bright like the sun.  I seek to cultivate this as a strengthening force in my life, bringing God’s joy into my life. Cultivate joy as someone cultivates their garden - with hard work, persistent effort and hope. 

A few of the things that I see joy in...

the voice of a child singing worship songs  - the sound of a friend’s laughter - butterflies on brightly colored zinnias - a hug when it’s needed most - the sustenance of prayer - rainbows from rainstorms -starry skies so clear that you see the spill of the milk in the Milk Way - wild horses with bright eyes and swift feet  - the constancy of God - sweet fuzzy puppies that cuddle close at night - words of truth and kindness - the strength of gentleness - God’s words that give life - the smell of pine needles around the base of the tree after a rain - splashing in puddles - cold and sticky summer popsicles - the warble of the house wren - loving moments of a family, through good and bad times - the feel of a baby’s hand wrapping around my finger - being able to work hard and feeling the reward of a job well done - the pleasure of serving someone else - the excitement in grasping something new about God - reliance upon Jesus - grace

 

Cultivating joy is done through the ups and downs, happy and sad times, helping me grow in my faith and share the Lord’s joy with others.  It is a habit that sees me through unexpected difficulties, and makes good times even better.  It is a habit that I ask God to continue to strengthen in me. It is a habit worth cultivating.

“You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, that my heart may sing your praises and not be silent.  Lord my God, I will praise you forever.”

Psalm 30:11-12

Strings

The last few days have been a roller coaster of sadness and joy, good-bye and hello, as our family has celebrated the life and started mourning the death of a wonderful man. My great uncle moved to his heavenly home and many people had come to support his family during the visitation and funeral. This led to a conversation on how we are all tied together, with threads and strings that are woven into complex patterns throughout our lives.

I started pondering that thought on the drive back home. What would this web of connectivity look like if I could sense it in a tangible way? Yarns that are thick and worn to soft fuzzy textures held next to fine threads, rope-like strands in line with flossy embroidery thread; family, friends, acquaintances, co-workers, peers and neighbors are all linked together in these many cords. Stretched over miles of distance and through years of life, the strings are wrapped through my fingers and looped into other peoples’ hands.

Strings may have grown dusty since we have moved them last, but the connection can still be there.  Shake off the business of the moment and refresh the bond. We can stretch strings to the breaking point, leaving them thin and worn, and yet with careful interlacing bonds can be rebuilt. Woven into colorful patterns, these plait the threads together to make relational tapestries that spread out and connect one person with another. New fibers are added throughout life, the cashier at the grocery store that always checks me out in the mornings I go to get bananas and kiwis, or the new people I meet at Bible study.  Adding new connections only increases the depth and complexity of threads. 

Seeing these strings merged into a far-reaching weaving at the death of a loved one was a beautiful reminder of the support and connection we share and yet often forget to communicate or, at times, even notice. I want to encourage you, as I was encouraged, to enjoy and build the strings in your life.  Seek out these connections and nurture them.  It takes time, energy, strength. It is intentional and can certainly lead to tangles. Tie a thread around your connectivity as a reminder that the benefits of our strings are beautifully immeasurable.

Perspectives from Marigolds

Just spent a few minutes dead-heading the marigolds in the yard.  Of all the summer flowers, that is one of my favorites with their little sun spots of color and powerful perfume that the bees and birds love. 

To give the coming and current blooms the most energy from the plant, the dying blooms can be removed in a process called dead-heading.  Just snip the bloom off with your fingers.  I go out and do that every week or so, and that is when you will find my pockets full of marigold flowers as I head back in the house to store my treasure through the rest of the year and into the next spring.  I break up the heads so that the seeds can dry out and be stored.  Then, after the most recent batch has dried, it takes its place in a glass jar to be held until the new spring comes.

Seeing these summer blooms drying up can be kind of a sad thought.  It is a reminder of the opening and closing of life chapters in general.  But, as I look at the pile of seeds ready to dry and be stored, I can’t help but think of the perspective lesson marigolds share.  Life does present us with opening and closings, starts and finishes.  The starts and finishes can be nerve-wracking, happy, grief filled, and joyous.  Needless to say, I can go in fits and starts with openings and closings that do not regularly occur in an all smooth fashion.  New things can make me nervous, even when I’m excited about them.  And, some things I am very glad to see go, while others I miss very much. 

But, marigolds remind me of how these chapter lessons are kind of like these seeds.   The lessons can be dried out and stored for later.  Carefully preserved to be re-planted later, as life seasons change, lessons will come in handy again.  Planted in the next season, they not only re-grow from the seed of that original plant, but produces new seeds as well.  Each season of planting and building, all from one dried up flower head holding marigold seeds.    

Neighbors in Perspective

I have wonderful neighbors.  I’m not just saying that, I have the best neighbors.  They are kind, caring, and help to look out for each other, and us.  And, we in return get to help and look out for them.  I hopped on facebook this morning, just part of my normal morning routine, to check in on some virtual neighbors.  Two happily celebrated anniversaries, one birthday, and a heartfelt prayer request later, I want to celebrate the happy news of those who have shared their pictures and joys and pray for peace and comfort for those grieving. 

Neighbors are so much more than the people living in the house to the either side of us, or an electronic “friends” list.  They are people who when we reach out and get to know a bit, become a neighborhood.   A neighborhood that works to remain solidly in support of each other becomes a community.  Cities made of communities are going to function better.  They are more peaceful, cohesive, and are able to do more for each other and neighboring communities.

How do we get there?  We start taking care to keep our neighbors in our perspective.  It doesn’t have to be anything terribly complex.  Simply keep it in mind enough to think through possible needs.  If there is a heavy snow, catch them with a happy surprise by snow blowing the driveway just because.  If there is an illness, grab a meal and drop it off.  Extra produce from the garden that cannot be eaten, drop off a bag of the fresh goodies just because.  Meet at the fence, laugh and talk over those daily neighborhood things – the children jumping on the trampoline, the dog in the yard, the gardens, and the weather. 

Nothing too difficult.  Nothing that requires a committee or a huge plan.  Just keep the perspective wide enough to include the neighbors.  It can make your perspective grow tremendously.  

Taking It All With Me

The trip is winding down, and here at about a half-way point between the Black Hills and home in Iowa, it’s time to get some sleep.  Packing up this morning, rarely my favorite thing to do, I was consoling myself that even though I was leaving a beautiful place, I was going to take many things back with me. 

The buffalo herd moves across the grasses, mostly in a slow and loose conglomeration of shaggy creatures.  Babies test out their legs, and discover hopping and running to their great joy.  The mamas look as if they hope the babies will do several more laps to be naptime ready sooner rather than later.  The herd sentries grunt back and forth; passing along directional, pace, and herd behavior instructions.  Rolling in the dust, sturdy buffalo legs stretch in wallowing holes to take dust baths.  Tiny cow birds gather around the buffalo, partners in their environment.  The calves stretch out next to their mommas, soak in the sun, and wake recharged and hungry.  They try to add their own grunts, with baby voices that are much higher than the adults surrounding them.  I will take them with me.

Antelope, elegant creatures of patterned colors, perch high on hills and low in the gullies.  They tend to pretend that human viewers are simply not there, conspicuously ignoring the person within view.  Watching the antelope, quietly munching the grasses and moving along the hill lines, I love their patterned looks and the sounds of their quiet grass clipping.  I will take them with me.

Sylvan Lake, Legion Lake, Stockade Lake, and several other lake spots reflect the pines, snow, and rock formation.  The ducks and geese that make their homes in the waters take turns honking and quacking at each other, flapping around in a merry chase of territorial nesting crankiness.  The air is full of pine smell, clean and sweet.  The water, still frozen in some places, is cold with spring snow melt.  Little fish dart in and out of the cattails.  Tiny birds played as they move in and out of the reeds.  An osprey dipped and dove into the waters.  The trails around the ponds and lakes are each different.  The Sylvan Lake path leads past the waters framed in low rocks to a path sided by tall rock walls.  The pines and birch trees close to the rocks are still encased in thick snows.  Higher up, where the sun is hitting, the snow has melted to form icicles that glow in the sunshine like jewels.  I will take them with me.

Blue birds perch on the fences and bird houses.  Tiny spots of sky blue, they are like little sky streaks that dart around.  The females are toned in browns, like little paintings that reflect the good soils and stones around them, delicate in coloring and well disguised in their environment.  The meadow lark sings the most beautiful song, loudly and joyfully from tree branches, fence posts, and anywhere else they can find.  Yellow, with a swirl of black on their chest, these birds are as beautiful to see as they are to hear.  Magpies, white

and dark blue, dart about as if they are the supermodels and everyone else should pause to watch.  They are beautiful, and I do pause.  A strutting turkey, fluffed up and gliding over pine needle covered ground attempting, all in the attempt to impress a hen was a beautiful sight.  She was even chasing him for a few minutes, so apparently it was working.  The gobble gobble and cluck cluck of the turkey was fun to hear.  The pheasants, hawks, burrowing owls, and noisy crows were all there and all so wonderful to see.  I will take them with me.

I have met wonderful people.  A woman on an adventure who displays warmth and caring in her work, will have a collection of stories that is worthy of writing in a much shared book.  A local small store owner brings Bob the Manager to the store each day to “work” as a greeter.  Bob is a liver colored lab who likes belly rubs and to show off his big blue toy bone.  The Custer Chamber of Commerce awarded Bob as having friendliest customer service; all because his person brought him to work and let those who visit the store enjoy that personality.  Another woman has picked up the pieces of her life and found a passion for photography that has inspired her to make more than a so-so existence, but to enrich the lives of others around her.  I felt as if she was looking to share, as one who cares about an art wants to share it with another.   A gentleman is warmly greeting guests, even as he is a guest here.  I hope that he feels as welcome

in the Custer area as he made us feel.  A retired rancher, working at the Wild Horse Sanctuary, let me see the plains through his eyes.  Grasses, sustainability, the balance cycle of predator and prey, water conservation, and the joy of spring’s arrival from the presence of a burrowing owl were only the frosting on the cupcake.  His love of the horses and caring for them and their preservation was something that could be described more as a passion than a job.  People who have greeted, smiled, welcomed, and been kind – I will take them with me.

Snow falling so gently while enveloped in the heat of the steam and water of a hot tub, watching deer eat their dinner just beyond the pines from the same hot tub, and the sound of migratory ducks and geese as they fly over - they are all cabin memories.  Tucked near an outcropping of rock, the cabin was a quiet landing place at the end of a day.  With a gas stove fire started, the living room was toasty and the perfect place to end a day flipping through pictures.  A kind hearted woman owns the cabins and so wants to share her joy of the cabins with those who stay there.  I will take these with me.

These are just a few of the things I will take home with me.  I packed them all so gently in my luggage and have them with me even now.  They are many more, and those also I will take with me.

Why do we pray - We’re doing the happy dance

   Yesterday, I started tackling this great question, “Why do we pray?” I say it’s a great question because I believe that God is big enough for all of our questions and enjoys watching us grow. So, I’m working through the big ideas in the few lines of James 5. For today, it’s “Is anyone happy? Let them sing songs of praise.”

   Now, I’m a singer and anyone who has been with me for any great length of time will hear me at random places (public and private) hum, sing softly, or even sing loudly. I can sing by ear or note, in choirs, groups, or solos. Microphone in hand and feet on the stage or barefoot in the living room or the pasture – singing is a form of prayer for me. It is a way for me to communicate with (speaking, listening, receiving, responding) to God.
   I have a beautiful little chocolate lab who had surgery earlier this week. When she is back up on all fours, she will be doing her happy puppy dance once again. When she is happy, you can’t help but know it. There is a dance in her step, a prance in her walk, and a happy tail waggle. In her own way, she is singing a song of praise.
   Praise is just a much part of prayer as petition. So, when we are in trouble we pray. When things are going well and we are happy – we praise. For many of us, that takes care of two major mood groups right there. But, it does beg the question – why praise? Have you taken a good look at the news out there? I have a couple of thoughts. One is that it’s infectious. It really is! When someone around you is happy and sharing that joy, others perk up as well. I think that we are meant to help share that happiness with others around us. But, maybe it helps perk God up to. In the sense that it makes Him happy to hear us realize the gifts in our own designed (albeit limited) ways. Another is that the good seems to be weighed down by the bad these days. The news can be hard to take. Praise reminds us that God really is sovereign and in charge – in the good and the trouble.
   Give it a try today, burst out in song. Maybe someone will even sing along!

Spring is Coming

   It is unmistakable, the first signs of spring are being shown. I love snow, but it is good to feel the sun and it’s warmth. Soon, the flowers will be blooming and the air will be full of their smell.

   Each season is so different. I love the feel of fresh snow, powdery and deep. I like to really dress in all the snow gear and then head out at night with the dogs. Just sinking down into it, leaning back and watching the stars. It’s beautiful; the intense quiet, and the brightness of the sun on the snow.
   Spring comes in with a passion of storms and a swirl of bright colors. The air itself changes it’s fragrance and becomes full of the smell of earth. The ground soaks in the moisture and the green starts returning to the yard. Tree buds are just a moment away. I know that they open secretly, because I go to bed one night and they are buds. The next morning, there are tiny leaves.
   Summer comes with its heat and the smell of sun block. Summer vacations are planned and the anticipation that has lasted all winter and spring now comes to fruition. The earth is warm under my feet, and I begrudge my time in shoes. Summer rains are something to walk in, to sit on the front porches with porch swings, and enjoy the sound of the rain.
   Fall, every fall I think it’s my favorite. The color, the smell, the “lullaby of the leaves”. Red, yellow, and orange colors are painted onto the leaves by the Great Painter and the world takes on a new due of color. The yellow leaves are my favorite, it seems like sunshine on the top and on the bottom.
  So, I’m saying good-bye to winter and hello to spring. Especially since I have seen a robin and a bug in the yard! It’s a sure sign.

Anticipation

   I have been counting down, three weeks, two weeks, and now I am down to days. Soon, weather permitting, dear friends will be here for a visit. I cannot explain the joy I have at seeing them again, as these are such dear people in my life. I plan for their coming, how can I make it extra special? What can we do to make wonderful memories? And yet I know that the simple time spent together will be the most special of all.

   I think this must just be a taste of what it’s like in heaven. As our Lord prepares a place for us, He is counting down – oh, only two more years, weeks, months, days, hours, minutes, etc… until I can finally hold my friend and sit and talk with them again face to face. How I long for that and want everything to be just perfect for their arrival. The anticipation of a God who loves His children – that is a great thing.

Music

   The last vestiges of a cold is hanging on stubbornly, so I want to pencil these words (metaphorically) before the cold meds kick in and kick me out. Friday evening found me, sniffles and all, in the sanctuary of a local church listening to the Moody Bible Institute Women’s Concert Choir and Hand Bell Ensemble. The music was beautiful, every word and phrase carefully planned. The attention to the details, the endings of the words, the focus on the director, it led to a wonderful overall creation of sound. But, in the midst of that beautiful collection of music, it was something else that struck me. The presence of the choir was like a sweet wind that cleared out the cobwebs of a musty place. You know that feeling when spring first has a nice warm day and you open the windows, the winter air is finally blown away and the spring smells and freshness comes in. This was the impression I had watching this choir as they performed their pieces.

   The musicians, they have held a special place throughout time. They have heralded eternal moments with angelic songs, marched with trumpets, made the processional way with harps, lyres, and cymbals. Psalms 81 spoke of the song, “Sing for joy to God our strength; shout aloud to the God of Jacob! Begin the music, strike the timbrel, play the melodious harp and lyre.” Sing, shout, strike, play – these onomatopoeia type words can also be heard in laughter, prayer, and praise. It is not always the beautiful concert music that is so carefully planned and expressed that praise can be found. It can be in the coo of a baby, the sigh of a sleeper, the long smell at a fresh baked pie, the ummmmm of a savory bite enjoyed. These are all praise, they praise the Maker, the Provider.
   Make music, sing a song.

Heard his Voice

   Christmas morning and all is quiet. My grandparents are in the kitchen cooking up sausage gravy, eggs, and biscuits. My mom is finding Christmas music for the celebration to come and distracting me with plans of impromptu caroling. The dogs are all quiet, stretched out for their morning naps. The door to the kitchen is closed, keeping them from being underfoot (as they are such happy helpers). Then suddenly, they heard my dad’s voice and each got up with tails a-wagging, happy faces in joyful anticipation of seeing him. The door is still closed, but there they stand. They recognized the voice and moved in anticipation of seeing him.

   It struck me in that moment how we have a door, a “glass, darkly”, that is a barrier between us and viewing God in His fully glory. But, when our master approaches from the other side, how wonderful it is to hear his voice. Knowing that “now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.” On this morning on celebration, amidst the music and foods and packages, my ear turns to hear the voice of Jesus.


(1 Corinthians 13)

The Impact – Christmas Eve

   Today is Christmas Eve, the last day prior to the actual Christmas day. I’ve been reading an advent prayer every day as a way to focus my thoughts on Jesus and his birth. As the list of things to get done, go do, and go see are crossed off, I find my minding becomes less focused on the things and more focused on the day and event in itself.

   That really hit my heart yesterday, with the words of familiar Christmas carols playing over the radio in my car. Silent night and the angels sang, Gloria, Shepherds watch their flocks, Away in the Manger… I felt like I could just have been knocked over by a feather as the amazing facts of the birth of Christ came hitting fresh. Gratitude flooded my heart as I thought of the preparation Jesus must have made to leave His heavenly home, knowing the humble circumstances he would have on this earth.
   I hope that you have a pleasant Christmas Eve and a wonderful Christmas that is full of the joy and gratitude of Christ’s sacrifice.

Christmas – Choir

   Here in town, an annual event is held every December, the Holiday Stroll. The downtown main street is shut off from all boot foot traffic, and the town comes out to kick-off the holidays. Music, hot chocolate, window displays, and many people come out to meet, greet, and enjoy the festivities. As a kick off to the event, local choir kids sing from the second story of a local bank down into the lobby. Microphones set to project voices, they sing carefully practiced choir pieces of jazz, traditional carols, and some beautiful arrangements of acapella music.

   Listening to that music, watching with others as our faces turn up to the young people standing and singing, I was reminded of how the faces of shepherds must have been turned up on that far ago night. An angel appeared to shepherd and brought them the news that a Savior had been born. Imagine that as the sky filled with a host of angels singing and praising God, how the faces of the shepherds were tilted up. Jaws dropping down, eyes reflecting the light around them, shocked sighs escaping their mouths. Just imagine the excitement on the part of the angel choir. Perhaps they had practiced long for this moment, with joy and exhilaration they stared down at the shepherds. This was the moment they had waited for, the performance of an eternal lifetime.
   As we hear various school programs, listen to the concerts and carolers, may our music reflect the joy of that concert, heralded in a shepherd's field.

Christmas – Stars

   I’m not sure when the bug hit, but it has been part of me as long as I can remember. I would stare up at the stars in the sky with wonder and awe and enjoyment. As Christmas approached, my dad, being the tallest person in the house, would place the star on top of the tree. It was made of a foil material, shiny and metallic. When the lights around the room were turned out, the Christmas tree lights turned on, and it was dark outside, the room would suddenly become a reflective tapestry of light patterns. Little lines, made delicate against the walls with the white lights, would entertain me for hours. I remember lying in the floor with my family, just watching the lights.

   When I go out at night, my eyes still wander up. My jaw still drops when I see a floating trail of light stream across the sky. I smile when I see planets lighting up the sky like brilliant and perceptually tiny globes of fire. Little pin pricks of light form constellations. Stories combine together the light points to make up patterns, reasons and direction.
   The shepherds must have had quite a few that year in the hillsides around Bethlehem. There they were, watching their flocks, and perhaps gazing up at the sky. Not a sky blazoned with city fluorescent lights, but a dark sky that would have shown a milky way to take your breath away. They saw other things that night as well, angels came to the shepherds. Perhaps for years after, they looked up at the sky and remembered the bright lights, the beauty of the sky that night.

Puppy Rhythms

   A new puppy in our lives has created a flurry of activity, a dramatic decline in our paper towel and carpet cleaner inventory, and a change in the rhythm of our lives. Puppies, high spirited and energetic, are fun little fur balls. They are charmingly cute in the way they instigate trouble and investigate the world surrounding them. At the same time, you know that much like toddlers, if you hear silence, it generally means that they are into something they shouldn’t be.

   Buddy has been here almost two weeks, and already our lives have shifted. More than just items being placed higher and shushing each other when he is taking his nap, Buddy has been the source of a great deal of laughter, enjoyment at watching his antics, and just the simple pleasure of snuggling with a warm and squirmy puppy.
   Much like a baby, puppies follow patterns. They go out, they come in, eat and drink, play, go out, sleep, over and over… When he is asleep, is time to do tasks quickly and get items that require more concentration done. Then, when he is awake, it is hard not to just leave everything where it’s at to go and play with him.
   Buddy is growing, gaining several pounds already. He will continue to grow, to become a large dog and lose his puppy features. But, he has already made a permanent imprint on our minds, hearts, and lives.

Hanging up the Memories

   Some people hang up stockings, some people hang up memories. For me, the holiday season is rich with memories. Family dinners with my cousins and I running around my grandmother’s house, crowded with people who loved us; memories rich with love, laughter, music, and joy. Cookie baking, ornament making, and of course putting up the nativity were favorite activities.

   My mother had and has a special penchant for the nativity, and I remember quite vividly how she moved the nativity pieces through the house for months. She wanted me to understand that the celebration we have on these days is not just a quick thing, but it was a process over time.
   Last night, I put up one of the nativities which will adorn the house. I know some will say it’s too early, but I disagree. What more beautiful Thanksgiving decoration could I possibly have than a crèche with a new family represented inside? And not only a new family, but a baby that was to grow into the man that died and was brought back, the man who still lives today. This nativity is not the fanciest one, not the prettiest one. It’s chipped and the painted plastic has worn off on many places. The little plastic sheep and cows look worn. The angel has lost the glue which held her high against the wood, and now must be tucked in. It is something I played with as a child, learning from these symbols the story of the holidays.
   I look forward to these new holidays, as a chance to hang up the memories once again and make some new ones.

Puppy

   We are excited to welcome a new puppy into our lives in a few weeks. A little black male lab, he is just adorable, velvety soft, and has puppy breath. Puppies are such a joy. Yes, a lot of work – but they bring a great deal of laughter as well. Each one is unique, each with their own personality and preferences.

   There are nine in this litter, all beautiful little black labs. Meeting them for the first time yesterday, it was a reminder of what charm a litter of healthy and well cared for puppies has. The mother greeted us, still looking silky and shiny even as she cared for her babies. A mass of wiggly fur balls surrounded the food bowls. When they looked up, their little noses were smeared with puppy chow.
   Soon, all were off to explore their yard. Apparently, one had recently found a small inset pond and had fallen in. None repeated the swimming venture when we were there, but they did think it was a lovely water bowl. Puppies ran around our legs, grabbed at fingers and cuddled into our embraces. Two little girls in the litter held their ground and kept their brothers on the alert! Pounce, growl, smush, and there the boys were being sat on by their sisters.
   Puppies are a lot of work. They require care, attention, and a home that is puppy-proofed to keep it free from things which they could either hurt themselves or destroy with those teeth. They need patience as they learn what is and what is not accepted. Quick reminders and corrections, followed by a great deal of praise, and of course a stock of carpet cleaner and paper towels is needed. But, when you get past this, you find that there is a little creature full of love, just waiting to share with you.

The Joy of Solitude

    I used to not enjoy being alone. I would leave lights on and every television turned on for some extra noise. It wasn’t so much not feeling safe as simply not liking the solitude of just me, myself, and I. It can get rather crowded in my brain and without the noise it can seem deafening. It took time to have an uneasy comfort with the quiet, like a new acquaintance that you aren’t quite at ease with. But gradually, we became familiar with each other. My mind would stop it’s whirring and settle into the quiet.

   Then, I had an opportunity of structured silence. There was no talking in this group for a period of approximately twelve hours. For some, this was a very uncomfortable time and darned near impossible. I can sympathize, I’ve been there. But, I found that the silence was very comfortable. I had found joy in solitude. It took several hours for my mind to slow down, to not be searching for many external sounds. When it finally did, I could hear the still small voice speaking to me. Oh, not an audible voice, but speaking nonetheless. “You are my child and you are loved more than you can know.” The voice brought comfort, and hot tears, as I found it growing quiet enough to really think though things, pray over things, and not feel torn in media directions.
   When I left this time of quiet, I found that the longing for that type of solitude continued. Sitting out at the bonfire a few nights ago, it was back to that type of joy. Shhhh! Let me just sit and stare at the flames, sit and stare at the stars. Let me grow quiet and my mind to become unhurried. It is a companion now, a laid-back friend. There is joy in the quiet of the solitude, joy in the quiet that comes with the still small voice. “You are not alone, even in the midst of the solitude.”

Joy in the Morning

I have been having strange dreams lately, which is not all that strange for me. They are rather unsettling and I wake up feel disconcerted. They seem to center around conflict, which I also find unsettling. I have come a long way in learning to deal with conflict, but it still not my favorite thing to deal with. The thing that strikes me each and every time, is that my feelings of being flustered and a bit tense in the stomach from a dream fades in the morning.

I am reminded that the new day is truly new. It is not promised, it is not mine to claim. It is a gift and unique. I am also reminded that though there are effects which carry through from the day before; this is not necessarily a bad thing. There are good things that carry through to the new day. A gift of grace, friendship, life, and possibility all carry into the new day. I am reminded that though the new day is not promised, that that the things which are are rock solid and carry through each moment. There is joy in the morning, even when there are bad dreams in the night.