the reality of prayer

When I teach my kids to pray, when we say our bedtime prayers, say the blessing before our meals, pray over scraped knees, do I pray in a way that is real? Do I talk to My Father before their eyes? Do I show them what it is to listen?

My children need to know God as a real person who hears them, to know the power of the words lifted up to his throne.


Today our new dog Optimus jumped the fence. The shelter volunteers said he was a jumper, so we knew it was possible. Spencer went out to look around the block and came back dogless, with equal devastation and determination on his face. I knew tears were being held behind a leaky dam.



(Lord! Would you lead us to this dog just to lose him? How would they cope? What would I say to mend their broken hearts?)




Back he went, with empty leash, while I watched out the front door. Then there was a flash of white, followed by a glimpse of Spencer's red winter coat, and just like that, all was right again with the world. He had come back home on his own - he knew where his new family lived. I turned around to see Nathan's bright eyes looking at me, "Mommy, I was praying that Optimus would come back." Sure enough, I had remembered him being very quiet on the couch. He knew who was in control and who was not. Now he knows a God who hears him.


Thank you, Lord, for all the times it "gets through." Even in spite of me.
And thank you for bringing back their dog.

girlfriends

We need 'em.


Girlfriends appreciate a good hair day.

Girlfriends tell you about the drool on your sweater.

Girlfriends love us when we're not quite....well.....

not quite ourselves.

Special thanks to all my girlfriends for loving me through the "not quite myself!"

What would I do without you? I'd be, like, What-eva.

november

It's not over...

till the

last

leaf

falls.

Don't rush me, winter.

the eyes slow down and see

Have you ever taken the "get to know your friends" quiz? There is usually one specific question I can't answer. It stumps me.


"What's your favorite season?"


I don't think I can label one as my favorite. As much as I love the reds and the yellows, the brilliant blue sky, the squirrels that gather,



I think my favorite part is that they change.



I suppose I could live somewhere where it's always warm and sunny. It would be nice to grow a garden all year long, and never have to pull out all the bulky winter gear or sop up sloppy footprints by the front door.



But what would I miss?

Each time a season steps aside for the next, my surroundings shift, and my eyes are open to see the patterns of change that were in existence long before I was here to notice. I see things that remind me of last year's pumpkin patch, of the crops of my childhood, and of bringing my first baby home. I'm thankful for the seasons that change and give me something new to see. Again.

John 3:8

The wind blows where it wishes,

and you hear its sound,

but you do not know where it comes from

or where it goes.

Lord, help me to fully embrace the mysteries that surround you.

change of season

I've never been able to say with certainty which season is my absolute favorite.



This one has always tempted me.

he restoreth my soul

Sometimes, worship is quiet.

I went to the park today, a little one-hour retreat in the midst of lessons and requests, feeding and cleaning-up-after. I found just the right picnic table under the shade tree, opened my Bible to read, and realized I had left my journal at home.

Uh oh. Nothing to be busy about. Nothing to "do." No "doing."

So, what then...just sit? Sit and read, sit and watch the squirrels gather, sit and watch the robins bathe in the stream? Sit and feel the autumn breeze and follow the cloud path that drifts overhead and just think?

YES.

And pray without words, like being with a friend that is close enough to make comfortable the silence?

YES.

So I did, and He restored my soul once again.

alone time

Sometimes it's good to just sit and be alone and play with rocks.

Romans 1:19,20

"For what can be known about God is plain to them,

because God has shown it to them.

For his invisible attributes, namely his eternal power and divine nature,

have been clearly perceived,

ever since the creation of the world

in the things that have been made."

True dat.

God's handwriting

Never lose an opportunity

of seeing anything beautiful,

for beauty

is God's handwriting.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

the caterpillar and the butterfly

From this:





To this:




It still amazes me.

FAITH

running at a snail's pace

Seems like this blog of mine has been pretty quiet.


God has been quiet.
It's uncomfortable.
It makes me nervous.
I want control back. (not really)

We feel like we've stepped out in faith, desperate to move forward into the things He's called us to in ministry. Things don't look quite like we thought they would. We have had near miraculous job provision for nine months, now it stops. Did we miss something? Get it wrong? When you put your all into listening to the Holy Spirit, and fully commit your way to the Lord, and things end up looking wierd and foolish after that, does that mean you missed the mark? Does it mean He all of a sudden decided to drop you? Probably not. But where we are isn't an easy climb, and I don't recognize the scenery. I'd love a hammock on the beach and a tall glass of lemonade, but I'd have to walk way off course to get it.

And once I reached it, would I really be glad I did?

I suppose the only way to live this life is to keep putting one foot in front of the other, eyes fixed straight ahead, whether it makes sense in my head or not. Run the race and run it hard.

I'm trying. I might be running very slowly right now, maybe I'm short of breath, I'm likely to shake my fists at the sight of the approaching mountain, but I'm still moving forward...

back to routine

Vacation is a wonderful thing. Family, friends, having fun and staying up late, a break from the ordinary....

But I do like getting back to routine. Like reading my Bible and journaling on my favorite blue chair. Sometimes it's the simplest things that become the anchor of our lives and make our everydays rich.

promise

While I drove to the levee this morning, still shaking the sleep from my eyes, I was in awe over the stunning pinks of the sunrise. I wondered how many beautiful skies I have missed over the years due to the click of a snooze button.


But even more stunning was the early morning rainbow in the southern sky. I have never seen one so early in the morning, let alone in the southern sky. But there it was - a rebel rainbow. I thought of God's symbol of promise. I think that sometimes I expect to know just how that will look, His fulfilling of a promise. I get a picture in my mind of how it will go, of what the end result will be, and I start feeling like I've finally got a hold on how God does things around here.


And then He goes and puts a rainbow in the south at 6:15 in the morning.

fighting discouragement on my knees

It is the calm before a storm,

an expectant hush as we wait under a swollen cloud.

"It has to rain! Look how heavy, the cloud!"

We wait, sure it cannot pass by without a drenching of all below.

The air is still. All is quiet, yet groaning, earth's mouth open wide.

My arms open wide.

Together we wait for a drink. Not for a trickle, not for the drops counted on a windshield, but for the rush of the waterfall, the puncture of the bag, the release of the torrent from behind the trembling gate.

A hard rain, the kind that forces us to find covering, the kind that reminds us that we are rather small.

It is the storehouse overflow, poured out to be received, a testimony to the God of the eleventh hour.

See now.

Look.

It comes.

daily bread

It's a lazy Saturday lunch, grilled cheese and sliced apples. The neighbor kids are here. "Have you eaten?" I ask as I swirl the butter around the hot skillet.

("Our groceries are low, I should probably send them home to eat. We really need to stretch what we have.")

(comes a whisper) Give us this day our daily bread.

Our daily bread. Have we ever been hungry? Have we ever been without bread? Has He ever forgotten?

The bread we have this day is enough, and my heart is quietly humbled.

"Would you like to stay for lunch?"

And then I am reminded of the little one we found in the yard just an hour before, fluttering on his juvenile wings, brave and vulnerable.

"Where shall we put him? Shall we feed him mulberries?"

"Let's leave him right there - his Mama will see him. She'll come feed him."

Look at the birds of the air, daughter. I see them. I feed them. Are you not of more value than they?

Do not be anxious for tomorrow.

oops

Who knew that the sunrise came in shades of pink and orange shortly after 6 am?

Who drove through the sleeping neighborhood while runners pounded the pavement and owned the crosswalks?

Who saw the owls come in to perch when daylight brought an end to their hunt?

I have been out getting my new shoes dirty, on the levee trail, 6:30 a.m., foot rhythms on gravel. I've decided that I like the sunrise just a little more than I like the sunset. I like a little burn in my calves. And friends waiting for me at the trail head are better motivation than the tag on the inside of my pants that reads "size 12."

thoughts from the prayer room

Remember my friend Regina, with the prayer room? Knowing that I had some things weighing heavily on my heart, she welcomed me to it this afternoon, while she watched my kids downstairs. (Yes, she is that amazing.) As of yesterday, this is what my prayer was going to be:

"God, we can't make rent this month. I know you've provided extra work for Jamie for months now, and we've had everything we need. I know rent has always been paid on time. I know what your Word says. But it's almost the fifth of July now and I'm afraid that we've done something wrong and missed the way of your provision."

Here is what actually came forth from my mouth in the prayer room today:

"Lord. How long will you pardon my disbelief? How many times do you have to show me your hand of faithfulness before I believe it without question? When will I realize that your promises are true simply because YOU are Truth, and not man, that you shall lie?"

Provision came last Sunday. An anonymous donation from someone at church, covering more than our rent. We found out about it last night.

(God knew about it before last Sunday.)

We also knew something before last Sunday. We knew God called us to trust Him. To follow Him. To believe Him and to love Him. Wholeheartedly, foolishly, with abandon, in an act of worship. Because "love so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all."*

Someday, I'm gonna get that.

Who Paints the Skies

Who paints the skies into glorious day?

Only the splendor of Jesus.
Who breathes his life into fists of clay?

Only the splendor of Jesus.
Who shapes the valleys and brings the rain?

Only the splendor of Jesus.

Who makes the desert to live again?

Only the splendor of Jesus.