The Kiss

Relaxing in bed on a Sunday afternoon, half way between sleep and alertness... Too comfortable to even  open my eyes though I heard him come in and lie down beside me. His spontaneous kiss came as a surprise. Cool lips that met mine in a unexpected moment of affection. He promptly rolled over and went into his own slumber, the hours of his work week and the emptying of self this morning at the worship service finally catching up and culminating in the glorious Sunday afternoon nap.

I lay there awhile reflecting on that kiss. And the thought came:
    God likes it when we love Him like that.

Those unplanned moments of sheer affection.

Sure, He appreciates the methodical, daily devotions (I think, maybe not as much as we think He does?)
And the planned times of prayer.
But oh, how sweet are the times when out of a heart simply filled with love and joy, we attempt in our feeble human ways to show Him how much He means to us.

Sometimes I try too hard. Forgetting I was His Beloved long before I even knew His name, much less how to praise it's glory.
And He loves me still. As much as ever.
                       A love that runs like a powerful locomotive, a crazy furious storm over me.
                                    Again and again.

It's okay to enjoy this a bit. To take this truth in and hold it and be with it awhile and let it fill me.
To feel the joy of His love for me.
     It's like water to all the thirsty places inside me, longing to be filled again.
I find the most life-giving revelations I get are not the new ones,  it's the old ones that I've somehow managed to forget.

I'll never grow so old

That I won't need Your touch

I'll never be so strong

That it would ever be enough

I'll never be so sure

Or wise in my own eyes

That I won't humbly come and say,

"I will always need You here with me,

Every new day, each breath I breath.

There is never going to be

Anyone else for me.

Show me how to rest within Your arms

A peaceful place within the storm.

For every moment that I am with You

Feels like coming Home."

Beloved:  Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth— for your love is more delightful than wine. Song of Songs 1:2

I'm linking up today with...

To Be Kind

The words were on the tip of my tongue. My mouth actually open, when I heard a whisper,


                        "Be Kind."

My world at home is filled with the noise of four children and a husband that works from home, too. Noise,  I am used to. So much so that I've gotten pretty good at tuning it out to focus on whatever task is at hand.

     But a whisper... A whisper catches my attention.

My mouth snapped shut, swallowing my words hard. (They did not go down without a fight, but they went down.) Swimming up from memory came the fruit of His Spirit,
    
                                                       KINDNESS
                            PATIENCE
                JOY
LOVE        
       
I did a quick spiritual health check-up and realized it's an attribute that has been missing in me of late.
Kindness doesn't ramshod over others to express itself. Like patience and gentleness, it's one of the quiet graces, the kind not celebrated too often in the world we are sojourning through. And yet, it is a huge part of who God is.

What does kindness look like?

Today, for me,  kindness meant holding back words that were better left unsaid. I'm hoping that as I lean in to hear that whisper again this week, I can be teachable. Learning from the God of kindness, what it means to be kind.

"But when the kindness and love of God our Savior appeared,   he saved us..." Titus 3:4

I'd love to hear what some of you have learned from God about kindness. Perhaps we can learn together.
                                      

What Can I Give?

Coming to consciousness this morning, prayers in my head if not yet on my lips, I heard this from the Still place within:
 
     "Focus on giving today, not getting."

It was given like a key from the One who loves me best and wants everyday to be my best. I felt this splash of joy that opened me up inside. Anticipation came into my heart as I thought of simple ways I could focus on giving today to all those around me...

I could give a clean kitchen to my husband and children (and myself!) which had been left a bit chaotic after my (now) 13 year old son's birthday party that went late last night...

I could give a peaceful and joy-filled heart to my kids because I would take the time to get filled up with the word and quiet time with my Father before they awake this morning...

I could give an open home and heart to my friend's children who would be spending the day with us as she went off to work...

And to God... what do you give the Someone who has everything already??


 I could give a sacrifice of praise on my lips even though my heart's felt a bit heavy lately...
I could give obedience to the things He's said to complete...
 I could give trust that He's handling the things I can't  (hasn't He earned it?)...
 I could give thanks, true heart-felt thanks, all day, as I remind myself of all I've been blessed with.

I'm on the hunt today. A treasure-hunt of my own to find ways to give. And in doing so, I'm imitating my Father (bonus!) I'm setting my inner-dial of focus on giving.  I'm anticipating giving. The joy of giving. The blessing of giving.

  "It is more blessed to give than to receive."

When You Are Suffering...

Tired of this burden.
Not sure where to set it down, though.
Or how.
Or even if I'm supposed to...

I need a Savior today. Funny how salvation isn't really a one-time thing like some suppose. A one-time prayer that covers all the hard days. I need a Savior everyday.

I need a Rescuer. A Redeemer.

     Jesus saves me. Jesus saves me now.

Or so I'm told to pray.
But my hands feel to limp to fold. Tears come more readily than words.
And what to say anyway?

               I'm tired?   I'm weary with the waiting?

We always think bad things happen because of sin.

     "Why was this man born blind? Did his parents sin - or did he sin?" 

'Cause certainly somebody sinned.     Right?

I'm looking around, too. Wondering who's the culprit...  Me again?


             Am I the cause of this mess, Lord?

It's a heavy burden sometimes - my own blindness.

But what was it the Master said?
                          "This happened..."    
       This tragedy. This sorrow. This trial. This ache in my chest.
                                                "...that the Glory of God might be revealed."

What kind of plan is this?
     You're  hurting SO THAT I can heal you?


Does that even fit with my theology?


So many of the most beautiful miracles come through pain.
Even the (super)natural miracle of childbirth comes to us, riding in on waves of pain.
   It never comes with softness only. With quiet calm.
And then this little life is there, it too, letting out a cry after it breaths in it's first breath of air.

The pain leading up seems so.... unbearable.

You just want it DONE.  OVER.   You'd give anything.

But sometimes the only way up and out is through.
Like the children's book:

                   "We can't go over it.
                    We can't go under it.
                    Oh-no! We have to go
                          through it."


So glad there's a promise on the other side. Some day (the Lord knows when) I'll be done going through it.
And I'll be holding my promise in my arms.
 With joy.
With amazement. With laughter.  Feeling the moment all the deeper for having waited so long. Just to get through to that precious gift.
And it will have been WORTH it.

And isn't that the Way of the Cross?
And in my suffering I must remember - I have yet to suffer as He did.  Unto death.

I can see Him now - up ahead.
I do not travel alone on this road of suffering.

We share both in His victory and His suffering. Sometimes at the same time!
Kingdom ways are a paradox.
  Down is Up.
  Death is Life.
  and sometimes the greatest gifts are given, the greatest victories won, on the path of suffering.

He who goes out weeping, bearing the seed to sow
shall come home with shouts of joy - carrying his sheaves with him." Psalm 126:6
                 

Linking up today with:

Let's Celebrate!

Perspective is such an amazing thing. You and I could both look at the same house and give a completely different description of it. How? One standing in the front, the other in the back. Same house. Different views.

And the thing is, we'd both be right.

Perspectives on life come from our experiences. These 'facts' we've come to know within ourselves. They shape our view of what's without.

Trying to explain to your kids why doing such-and-such is not good for them, why A, B and C will be the result if they continue on a certain path is often lost on these young(er) souls.

Why did God give us, the parents, the wisdom of experience, but pair us with children who don't have the slightest interest in taking advantage of it???   Exasperation!

Now my oldest children are marking their journey through the teen years (side-note: whoever coined the term 'terrible twos' must not have hit the 'terrible teens' yet, just sayin').   And the wonder and admiration I feel for my own mother grows with
                                        each
                                               passing
                                                           day.



Now I know...
      that even though she seemed 'so old' (right?) she was really just a young woman trying to figure it out.

 Like me. With each new decade of my life it's like I turn a new corner and a whole different view opens up. The things that really are absolutes solidify with each passing year.  And the things that I just thought were important are minimized, eventually fading into a faint memory of who I was.

I know now that my mama did the best she could with what she knew then.   And you know what?

 It was enough. Grace filled in the gaps.

Now I know...
      that nothing makes you ache like the pain of watching your children hurt. I'm sad for all the anguish I put her through. The sleepless nights filled with worry. Though I didn't believe it then, I know now her love ran true.

 I can see now that though I was unaware, her love was my anchor during my own turbulent 'terrible teens'.

Still her love leads on.

A lighthouse in the dark times.

A touchstone that keeps me grounded.

Now I know...
    the power of  the prayers of a faithful mother. How in her weakness she drew down strength from a heavenly source. For herself. For me. Prayers whispered in the night from my mama heard by the Father.

Who can measure the power of true prayer? Still I reap the far-reaching influence of her prayers. The ones prayed then.  The ones still prayed today.

So grateful am I....Spurred to pour out myself in prayer for my own children. Knowing that as I do

               they are being wrapped

                                        in the supernatural. 


Mother love is supernatural. Full of the self-sacrifice mirrored in the greatest Sacrifice. 


Mothers are lay-down lovers. And is there really any other kind? 


I'm thankful to have one.   Even more thankful to be one. 


Mother's Day is usually billed as a day for others to celebrate us. But really, we are the ones who should be celebrating. We are the ones who have been given the gift.

Because Motherhood is a gift.

Now go celebrate.

In The Quiet

Most mornings when I wake up I feel like the new day before me is some kind of present.
So many hours stretched out before me, yet to be lived. To be filled.

I even confess to feeling a little invinsible. That I can do it all.

On My Doorstep

Yesterday I saw how there are some advantages to city life. Reading all these blogs recently of the home-schoolin' mamas, raising their families in the wide-open spaces so they can give them the simple life, it's had me wondering if I'm missing it with my own kids.