Memories Flash as Tulips Droop White

Tulips droop white.

Yesterday, my friend gives them to me. She reaches out remembrance. She has not forgotten that they are my favorite.

I place them on my kitchen windowsill.

Gentle snowflakes fall outside. Tears fall down my face.

Memories flash.

Eighteen years past.  A hospital room with tulips white on a sill. Alone I rest upon the bed, waiting for what is next – the arrival of my first born.  He is coming early. I am scared. 

Today, I pull a picture from the past, off the shelf. 

Today, is his birthday.

I feel my heart full, swollen.  I remember him inside.  Safe.  Secure.  Near to my heart, nestled under my rib cage warm and then he was born. Out of me, but not far from me.

Under duress, he entered the world.  My heart yearned then.  It yearns now.

“It’s okay, Andrea, cry.” I feel His Spirit speak to me.

“Why did it have to be this way, Lord?” I whisper back.

The Lord knows, it is not only the early birth, it is my son’s special needs that I think hard upon.

I ask for reassurance that all will be well.

My heart droops down, too.

I am overwhelmed with what is next for my dear son. 

I cannot speak; words within fall short, too.  God knows.  He does not need my words.

And then a Voice of Hope heralds itself in to my heart: nothing slips through the hand of God.  Do not be afraid.

Nothing.  I don’t understand. I wish it were different, but my different is not what God deemed.

And so I go back to what I know is true – God is sovereign and God is good.

I lie down limp, on the pillow of these truths.

As I rest, I thank God for my boy, now becoming a man.  I am proud of him.

Thankfulness helps me see.  The Lord helps me believe.

Memories Know No Time

It’s the way the rainy mist hits the glass and is quickly swept away be the windshield wipers and the way that trees glow bold. The way the leaves smell and crinkle red and orange and yellow and brown.  It’s the temperature outside – a chilly, damp 38 degrees. 

It’s the gentle heat that blows out of the vent, across my feet as I do dishes.  It’s the look of the half dead impatiens in the window box outside of my kitchen window, yellowed, weak, but trying to look brave.  It’s the few leaves that cling to nearly empty branches, holding on for dear life.

It’s my feet in my clogs instead of my flip-flops. It’s my black fleece jacket I slip on soft because I am chilled.  The tender way a close friend says my name. The words to a song.

They all – together, not one on its own -- bring back memories for me this month, memories of difficult times, and I will admit -- it is hard.  I love fall, but it also carries along with it sorrow.

I heard it said recently that memories know no time.

I think it’s true.

In an unexpected moment we remember something from our past, not begrudgingly, but honestly, regardless of whether it has been days, weeks, months or years. 

Memories are enigmas to me.

They are so incredibly tangible and yet mysteriously untouchable. Present in the present, and yet from the past.

I try to reach out and grab hold of them, either to embrace them or push them away.

And I cannot do either.

They slip away, like the fine mist outside, and yet, they are all around me, touching my skin, striking my heart.

And although they can sometimes be difficult to face, I think in a very hope-filled, God graced way, they can be valuable.

At least that’s how I’m trying to look at them this month.

I’m trying to face them, lean in to them, and take them to the Lord.

And I’m asking Him to remind me of –

Who He is --

What He taught me --

How He provided for me --

The ways in which He loved me, loves me --

And where He has brought me -- today.

Hoping, trusting, that somehow – He is still bringing beauty.

Feeling "Humbugish" Today?

As I drove down the highway this morning, the rising sun rested over my left shoulder and storm clouds percolated over my right shoulder.  The contrast was dramatic in the Spring sky, mimicking the drama going on in my own heart.

“I’m just not up for today,” I murmured aloud to myself. 

What I was really saying was, "I’m just not up for myself, today."

And at the expense of you, my dear reader, thinking that I am an old curmudgeon walking down Humbug Street, I gotta tell you, I'm plain old down in the dumps today (-- or down ON the dumps as my youngest child would say).

Covered with the trash of my own negative self-talk, the garbage clings to my weary heart.

And although I am trying to look for the new growth, quite frankly, I’m stuck in the mire of my own junk. 

 I’ve contemplated sitting here in the stink, letting it permeate even deeper in to my soul – trying to figure out what I should DO, but I was not – am not -- enjoying it.  At all.

And so, I’m choosing to remember and focus on the Lord’s love for Me, despite how I am feeling or what my circumstances may be – or not be – He loves me.

And He loves you, too.

Perhaps you’re feeling a little “humbugish” today?

May I pray for both of us?

Dear Lord,

Some days  are really stinky.  I know you know that, and yet, you have things for us in this day – things to bless us and things for us to bless others. Help us, Lord to see your grace in this day, even when we feel down in the dumps. Thank you for loving us and for showing us that love. Help us to truly have eyes to see and ears to hear so that we do not miss you, even on – maybe even more so on – a day that is gray.

Amen

Grace to Grieve

I was caught off guard by my grief this week.

Grief seeped up from the depths of my soul.  Grief from the past reappearing in the present.

Maybe you know the same thing. Maybe not today or this week, but maybe from time to time you have grief that comes out of the blue.  One moment things seem to be humming along and the next it feels as if you are under the heap. Grief is heavy. It hurts.

Grief is real.  We cannot help it.  Our grief is a response to loss. God grieved, too.

Grief is good.  Grief, placed in the hands of God, can be used for good. It draws us closer to Him and His comfort; it gives us a fresh perspective on His love and on His tender loving care of our hearts.

God gives us grace to grieve. I don’t think I always accepted this. I have tried to run from my grief, stuff my grief, ignore my grief, or guilty myself in the feeling that I had no right to have grief.

But His grace – His all-powerful, all-loving grace, that we neither deserve nor can do anything to do get – is present in the lives of those who love Him. And He gives grace to grieve. His grace sustains us through times of sorrow and loss, through times of difficulty, through times when we would much rather pull the covers over our head and stay in bed.

This week, I am trying to accept God’s grace to grieve.

I can’t help the grief. It’s just there.

But the Lord is present, too.

I’m resting in His care and allowing Him to minister to my heart – again.

And in lying back in to His arms, I hear His heartbeat say to me, “Remember, dear child, my grace is all you need. Go ahead and grieve. I’m holding you.  You’re safe with me.”

Rainy Day Hope

Rain pelted the window. The wipers marched back and forth, clearing the splattered drops only for a moment, until more covered the windshield. The clouds hung gray and heavy in the sky. My heart was slightly heavy, too. Sometimes, rainy days stir up whirlpools of emotion somewhere deep down inside of me. Rainy days are reflective days for me.

It wasn’t that I could put my finger on any one thing, it was a soup of some of my own sorrows (mixed with joys), as well as, thoughts of the sorrows of others around me. Sick family members. Abuse. Marriages under stress. Loneliness. Injustice. Widowhood. Cancer. It seems as if, as time goes on, more and more tragedy seeps in to the lives of God’s loved ones. We are not to be surprised by it; Jesus said that we would have trouble.

As I watched the wipers coarse left and right, wiping the rain away, I remembered, “And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.” (Revelation 7:17). There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain (Revelation 21:4). Someday, all will be well when we are with our Jesus in a perfect place.

And suddenly, hope cheered my heart, as I watched the wipers of my car and God's Word clear my view. Despite the dreariness of the weather, inside and out, I remembered that there is hope. God has not, will not ever, abandon those who love Him. He continues to orchestrate all things, even when it seems to us as if it does not make sense. The rain of our tears may pelt the glass of our hearts, but someday, He will wipe all those tears away. And the truth of that can bring us joy, even on the dark, rainy days.

For now, we are called to trust in the Lord and not lean on our own understanding. To walk alongside of each other, delighting in each other’s joys and carrying each other’s burdens. To cling to hope. To cling to Him. To remember.

Dear Lord, Thank You that You give us hearts that feel emotion. Thank You that You teach us how to love each other. Thank You that You give us the ability to be sorrowful, and yet hopeful and joyful. Thank You that, when we are alittle under the weather (or alot) we have the hope that someday You will wipe away every tear. Help us to live in the reality of Your love, at all times. Amen.

A Gathering Place for Grace

For months during this past winter as I drove back and forth in my car, I peered down into an area near the highway. Large earth moving vehicles lumbered back and forth, some digging, some pushing, some loading and some carting away the rock and soil that filled the spot. Deeper and deeper they dug. Some days it just looked as if they were shuffling the dirt from place to place, other days it looked as if they were at a standstill, doing nothing. It did not make sense.

“What is happening down there?” I repeatedly asked myself and the children. “What in the world are they doing?”

Over time, the hole got bigger and bigger and deeper and deeper. One day, trucks began to disappear. Sheets of grass were planted along the rim of the big hole in the ground and a small island was created in the middle.

I watched and wondered.

And then gradually, as the spring weather warmed, the ground began to thaw, snow began to melt and rain began to fall. Slowly, the great big hole gathered water. Every day it seemed to fill up more and more; the more the snow melted and the more it rained, the more water collected. The sky reflected off the water and the wind rippled across it, giving the water an appearance of fine corduroy. It was beautiful.

Gradually, I noticed ducks and geese visiting the giant watering hole. I saw them landing, resting and then taking off again, like airplanes on landing strips. Some sat on the shore; others swam in the water. Where there once was no place of refuge, now there was. The water brought life. It provided food, refreshment and rest. It was a sanctuary.

Are there not places, dear reader, in our hearts that feel as if they are being excavated?

We may ask, “What is happening? What in the world is going on?” It is hard to make sense of it and too incomprehensible to believe that there is anything good that will come out of it.

And, yet, it is as if God is digging deep in order to make a special place. It is here in the places that God chooses to hollow out, that we are then filled with the grace of God, for the benefit of our faith and for the faith of others. The thawing of the winter times and the rain like tears of our sorrows and joys are gathered together by Him. Here the winds of the Holy Spirit ripple across the surface, revealing His presence, and the light of Jesus is reflected. Here in this special place of His grace, others may come for hope, to be refreshed, to rest and to be fed.

Take heart, dear reader, be patient with the work that God is doing in your life. The excavation process can be difficult and painful, but it takes time for the excavation and it takes time to be filled. Trust Him in the process (He is right there with you!) , and believe that He will use your life in a beautiful way, for He has a plan and a purpose just for you (Jeremiah 29:11).

A Sweet and Tender Way

“Ohhhh,” I sighed quietly, yet heavily, as I paged through my calendar on Monday, noting the date – January 18. “Now, that’s why I feel so out of sorts this morning.”

January 18 is an important day to me, although very few people know of it. Sixteen years ago this week, pregnant with my first child, I was working as a Physician Assistant for a busy transplant unit. I loved my job and I was very excited about my baby. In my 6^th month of pregnancy, everything was going well. It is funny (not in a “ha-ha” sort of way) how one day can sometimes change your life forever.

That day my water broke prematurely and I spent the following 8 days flat on my back in a hospital bed, unable to get up. It was a difficult time; the doctors hoped that I would make it 3 weeks, but my dear first born did not make it that long. He arrived on January 26 after a difficult labor, sick and compromised. He spent 10 days in the ICU and came home after 3 weeks. Eight months later he was diagnosed with Cerebral Palsy.

I often wonder if January 18 would be as significant of a date for me if my son did not have a long lasting result of his early birth. I remember struggling early on with the reality of this and wise, older friends of ours responded, “This, too, did not slip through the hand of God. It is not a mistake. God has special plans.” I do believe it is true. It is hard for me to watch my son struggle, now in his teen years, but I am also very proud of him. He is overcoming much and is confident in His relationship with the Lord. It is beautiful, but difficult.

So, this Monday, January 18^th, as I was doing laundry, washing dishes and writing my study for this week, I found myself in familiar territory -- grieving a loss.

I kept thinking to myself, “Who can I call? I really want to talk to someone.” And as I went down the list of people in my mind, no one seemed quite right for this particular situation. “I would really like to talk to a friend who was there,” I said to the Lord, “but I’ll settle for You.” (Not really meaning that I was settling, at all. I did intend to be respectful, despite the way that it came out).

And then the phone rang. I couldn’t get to it, but soon heard a familiar voice, from my distant past, on the answering machine, “Hi Andrea! It’s Kris! I’ve been thinking so much about you and have missed you. Call me!”

I called her back, promptly. You see, Kris was my friend from college that was with me that day, sixteen years ago. I have not talked with her for 2 years. Truthfully, she did not remember that the 18^th was important to me, she just felt the urge to call me – and she did.

God really is remarkable, isn’t He? Kris didn’t know but God did and I believe He put the thought in her mind to call me. It was a gift for me that day. I am reminded that God cares for us in such sweet and tender ways. I felt loved by Him that day – and today. I was filled with sorrow, and He came in and brought me comfort through a far away friend who felt His nudge and called. It was just what I needed, when I needed it and my faith is strengthened, because of His love.

How Does Your Garden Grow?

I knew the ground was not fallow for I heard the tender steps of the Farmer and felt His gentle touch, right from the very beginning.

I could not be certain, all the time, what was growing there in the field of “sorrow and suffering” – but I knew it was good, for He had promised me that what He would plant would grow, if I allowed Him to care for me.

He asked me if I would permit Him to work, no matter what it would take. I wanted to be useful to Him. I wanted to grow. And so I gave Him the one thing I could find – a willing heart.

I did my best to trust. The winters were long and hard; the summers dry and hot, but over time, small shoots began to emerge – some growing quicker than others.

The winds blew and strengthened the little plants. The Farmer ploughed the ground with His love. He fertilized with His Word. He brought the Son to comfort. And He used my tears, as they fell from my eyes and landed on my heart, to water the little plants.

“I have planted special seeds in your heart, dear one,” I heard Him whisper, “seeds of grace, compassion, patience, courage, fortitude, gentleness, and many more.”

“But why is it taking so long for them to grow? “ I asked.

“A weed sprouts up quickly, but that for my service grows slowly. Their roots must be firmly established and their stems strong.”

“But, Lord, it is so painful.”

“Rest secure in this, dear one. I love you and I have plans for you -- plans to transform you and to use you. However, it must be done this way – it is the only way for you to know Me deeply and believe in my great love for you. Growing hurts, but I am here to help you. I am the one who tends you with tenderness. You cannot blossom anywhere else than right here.”

The little willing heart was encouraged and realized more and more that striving would not make a difference; only trusting the Farmer would. And regardless of what tomorrow held, the little heart remained just that -- willing.

And so my heart, dear reader, continues to wait and rest upon the Lord. The field of “sorrow and suffering “ are beginning to sprout up with life. The Farmer has been faithful and I believe now more than ever, that He is Who He is, without a doubt. I have learned to love Him in new ways, not because of what He has done, but because of Who He is. And that in itself is a lovely flower that is already blooming.

"He Loves Me. He Loves Me Not." We Need Not Doubt

I really do know better, but sometimes I find myself doubting God's love for me. How about you? Sometimes I am like a little girl, with a daisy gripped in my hand, plucking off petal after petal, questioning whether "He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not."

I don't like to admit it. I'd rather say I am always completely confident, but trials and turmoil in life happen and I am tempted to wonder and doubt. So, why do we doubt God's love for us?

Are we afraid? Has our courage melted and we think that perhaps God's love has dissipated along with our courage? Do we fear that it may not be true?

Do we forget what God has done for us, either because we are too busy or we do not hold on to the truth of His love? Like the Israelites after being led out of Egypt, do we forget what God has rescued us from?

Do we doubt it because of our shame? Do we let the sinful experiences of our past or present stand in the way, blocking our view of who God really is and how much He loves us, despite what we have done? Do condemn ourselves when Jesus is offering us life and love?

Or are we ignorant? Do we simply not know, perhaps because we have not looked around us? Are our hearts hardened causing us not to believe and thus turning our backs on Him? Do we go our own way, and in the process, we squander precious His love?

Does our pain hold us back from believing that God loves us through and amidst the hurt that we feel? Have other people hurt us and now it is too great for us to believe that God truly loves us when others have not loved us well? Have we been betrayed, belittled, left behind, tossed out of some one's heart, and we can't believe that God has a heart for us?

There are lots of reasons that we doubt His love, but the truth is that God does love us with an unfailing love. "This is how God showed His love among us: He sent his one and only Son in to the world that we might live through him. This is love: not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins" (1 John 4:9-10).

God has come and has shown His love for us. He seeks to save the parts of our hearts that doubt His love due to our fears, forgetfulness, shame, ignorance, hardness and hurts. He reaches out and shows us His love through His Word and through our circumstances.

Isaiah 54:10 says, "Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed," says the Lord, who has compassion on you."

Regardless of what the daisy of childhood may have told us or is telling us, and regardless of what the enemy of our souls is whispering to us (or screaming to us!) we need to believe what God’s Word tells us, to be true. And if we are willing to look at the experiences that God has given us, we will see how He is actively expressing His love for us. He loves us. He loves us. He loves us. We need not doubt.

Our Grief Unraveled Our God Redeems

Have you ever unraveled a skein of yarn in order to knit a project? First you must dig down in to the skein to find the end piece. When you reach in, you discover a tangled mass of threads, bound together and wrapped around one another. As you pull out the mass, you notice that the strands run across one another, up and down, back and forth, without any order.

After searching and teasing out the strands, you eventually find the end of the yarn, however, your work has just begun. Now the mass of strands must be untangled before you can start creating what you set out to create, like a sweater or a scarf.

This is how it can be when we begin to discover and get to the bottom of our grief and its complexities and mysteries. We may discover that the myriad of emotions entangled in our grief are great. Disappointment and regret and fear and rage and dread and loneliness and inadequacy and helplessness, and a great amount more, are all wound together.

As we desire to live the life that God has for us and try and work out the mess of our grief, we realize that in order to do so we may have to dig down deep and find the end of our grief (which may be the beginning) and untangle the emotions and the memories. There may be a lot of work that needs to be done in order to make sense of the mess and begin to straighten it all out.
Without God, of course, it is impossible to understand any of it. We need Him to help guide us through the process. He holds our hand to help us untangle the mess, and then takes the mess and shows us how to make something of great beauty.

In the end, we may realize that the emotions that we experience in grief are the same emotions that we can experience in living a full life. Now, however, they are laid down differently, not tangles, but side by side in a pattern that is vibrant, useful and honoring to God.

Seek the Lord our God, dear reader, with your grief and your sadness and ask Him to make something beautiful with it. Entrust the tangled mess to the Master's Hand and perfect plan. Psalm 34:22 says that "The Lord redeems His servants." God can and will redeem the lives of those He loves. He takes our messes and makes them lovely. Trust Him to unravel your grief and give you life, today.

Blessed Be the Name of the Lord

The daffodils in my yard, with their yellow, bright faces had finally bloomed. They pushed their way up out of the cold, dark soil, past the remnants of Fall, and announced the arrival of Spring. On sunny days, their heads bounced and bobbed in the gentle warm winds. They manifest hope and growth following a long, silent winter.

But today their sweet heads drooped down as they weathered stronger winds and freezing rain and snow. They seemed to peer at the ground with a yearning for the gentle touch of the sun. They represented perseverance and fortitude, yet appeared sorrowful. Their leaves were covered with droplets of rain, like tears resting on the cheek of one who longs for warmer more hope filled days.

My spirit was downcast within me today, as well. Perhaps the weather did not help, but it was more than that. There was an uneasiness in my spirit. Tears came easier than on more recent days, and my head hung with a more weary countenance than before.

Isn't this how it goes, though in healing? The old adage "two steps forward, one step back" often holds true. We begin to grow and change and blossom out of the darkness. We begin to enjoy the warmth again, and then something happens, or maybe even nothing really obvious happens, and we find ourselves downcast.

Psalm 42:5 says, "Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Saviour and my God."

The truth is that our hope is not in our circumstances, but in the Lord, and He is a ready help and comfort. He is our Saviour. We may be weathering another brief storm, but our roots are firmly planted in the Lord and we are being held on to and cared for. Warmer days will come when the sun will gently cast its rays across our faces and we will once again look upward. We may not know why we feel as we do, yet we can praise the Lord regardless of the chilling the winds that may blow today.

Dear reader, we can almost be certain that days will come amidst our healing when we find ourselves downcast and discouraged. These are hard days in contrast to the healing that we begin to feel. Yet, we can bless the name of the Lord. It is a choice. I love the song by that title - Blessed Be the Name.

You can listen to it by Tree63 by clicking on this link: http://free.napster.com/player/tracks/23973340 I trust that the Lord will use it to encourage and strengthen you. He used it to help me tonite. In praising Him I am feeling His comfort and His grace. Blessed be the Name of the Lord.

A Hedge of Protection

There are times in our lives when life is not as we had dreamed of or hoped for. Pain, fears, rejection, disappointments and uncertainty whirl around us like the blowing winds of Spring. We desire and cry out for safety and certainty, and they seem far out of reach. We yearn for a hedge of protection.

I have been thinking about Job today. Talk about drama and loss! In very brief summary of the first two chapters of Job, we hear of a man named Job who God describes as being blameless and upright, a man of prayer who shunned evil. The despicable Satan visits the throne of God and a conversation takes place.

Although the text does not explain why Satan has come, God cuts right to business and asks Satan if he has considered His servant Job. Satan sarcastically implies that the only reason that Job fears God is because of all that God has given him, and at this point, he had been blessed in abundance.

Job's hedge of protection, or so Satan thought, was at the root of Job's peace with God. God knew otherwise. God allowed Satan to strip it all away, except Job's body. It was to remain untouched.

Satan destroyed almost everything - sons, daughters, livestock, servants, households and houses - but when Job heard the news, he fell to the ground and worshipped God. Satan's plan was foiled. In fact Job's first response was to worship God. Double blow to Satan.

So, Satan tried again. God remains confident in Job. Satan wants Job's own physical self this time. Surely, he must of thought, the pain in a man's own body will destroy His spirit.

Satan inflicts Job with painful sores. Job mourns. His wife does not stand by him and his friends are not really friends at all. Job is left alone, trusting God.

As I reflect on this hedge of protection, I wonder how many years Job had asked God for this? The story of Job challenges me to think of the "hedges" that I ask God for and the "hedges" that I depend on. Job had prosperity, but I believe that this was not Job's hedge of protection. Job's hedge was something entirely more precious and wonderful.

What strikes me is that Satan tried to take away the hedge he thought was Job's, when all along Job's hedge was God, and Satan can't touch God.

Dear reader, we can learn and be encouraged and strengthened by this. Perhaps you are struggling with a great number of losses right now. Maybe very little seems like gain. I know that feeling, too. It is very hard. Whether our suffering is part of a greater battle between good and evil, I can't even pretend to know, but I do know that when we make our hedge God, we are safe. When we pray for a "hedge of protection" we can be confident that God, Himself, will be our Protector.

In the end of Job, God blessed the latter part of Job's life more than the first. I do not know what God has in store for any of us, but I do know that if we walk with Him, trusting Him for all things, that He will be all that we need and He will provide for us in abundance.

I am thankful that God is my Hedge, and tonite, I rest confidently in the safety of that.

He Calms the Waves of Sorrow

I am traveling with my oldest daughter. We are spending some long promised and much needed time together, one on one. It is a huge gift to have this time with her. It is like a sigh of relief and refreshment nestled between two parenthesis in the story of my struggles.

However, tonite I am having a hard time sleeping. My heart is stirred by a series of thoughts that I have concerning the sea and its waves.

I love the ocean beach. Today, we were walking along, looking for shells and sand dollars. The wind whipped around and through my jacket, crackling like cellophane. A storm blew in earlier, and the salty air seemed to hang heavy and thick against my skin. My hair curled in every direction, its natural tendency to do so accented by the moist air. The water was warm in contrast to the cooler air, and the waves lapped at my legs and feet.

It was the lapping of these waves that seemed to connect with my sorrow and grief that still remain deep within my heart. This is the reality of life. Joy in one aspect of life can run parallel to deep sorrow in another, and I have learned that it is ok.

Waves of sorrow or grief or whatever we may experience as a reality to the losses that we may know, can be like the waves upon the ocean beach. They rush forward crashing on the beaches of our hearts, and then ease back in to the sea. Rhythmically, but not methodically, they come. Sometimes, when the storm is great, the waves come rapidly and fiercely. Other times, when the seas are quieter, they still come, gently rolling in and pulling back, but still coming.

I noticed as the waves ease in and out, that they bring with them broken shells. These shells, large and small, are remnants of what once was whole. In our waves of sorrow, they may be dreams and longings and hopes, now shattered. They tumble along the sandy bottom of our souls, sometimes covered, sometimes exposed.

But once in awhile a treasure comes in on the waves, and if we are looking for it, we can find it. A whole sand dollar. A star fish. A sea urchin. Incredible in how God created it, we appreciate it for its beauty, and for the part of the landscape that it represents.

So, too, in our sorrow or our grief, treasures are washed ashore. They may be unexpected and we can choose to search for them. They may be new dreams or experiences that God is gifting us with. They are a part of His story for our lives, and they have a beauty of their own. They, too, are a part of the landscape amidst our grief.

Dear reader, perhaps today, you can relate to this sense of sorrow welling up inside of you, crashing on the shore of your heart. What to do? Acknowledge these feelings and ask Jesus, a man acquainted with your sorrows, to accept them in to His care. He will tenderly take your troubled heart and wrap His strong and mighty hands around it.

Psalm 89:9 says "You rule over the proud sea. When its waves surge, you calm them." Slowly you will begin to see that the waves of your sorrow begin to turn into waves of His care, and the gentle lapping of His love will wash over you and give you rest.

And for me, tonite, as I finally rest my head on my pillow, I acknowledge that God has given me a treasure in my sorrow today; I have time with my daughter, to pour invaluable love in to her life, just like that which He has poured in to mine.

Loved and Cared for by The Man of Sorrows -- Our Jesus

Earlier this evening I was reading in an old book that I have, "The Precious Things of God" by Octavius Winslow. In particular, I was reading the chapter on the preciousness of trial. I was inspired by a great amount of what is written in this chapter being reminded that our trials and suffering can bear the disguise of a foe, but in reality are a friend.

And then within hours i would have to put my belief in that to the test. My oldest son, who has CP broke down and shared his heart with me over the loneliness that he is struggling with at school. He started high school this year and all seemed to be going OK, so I thought, but tonite he spoke of how he feels as if he does not have any friends.

The river of sorrow runs deep and strong in my soul right now, and the current quickly can pull me in to it. Surely, there is nothing like watching your child suffer that tears your heart a part. Lord, how much can I handle? Standing amidst the rubble of a major crisis, I then bear up the suffering of my daughter in physical pain and my son in emotional pain. I know ... God says He does not give us more than we can handle. But I am tempted to wonder.

It is one thing to struggle and endure and grow through a trial of your own, and a whole other experience to help your child do so. I found myself almost at a loss of words. What was I to tell my son in his deep loneliness? How could I direct him to the only Hope that we have without minimizing his pain? What words would make a difference?

I cried with him, tried to brainstorm about resources that we could turn to and prayed with him. And now, late at night, I am entrusting Him to the tender care of our loving Father in heaven who loves him more than I even do.

I shared with him that even though we can not understand why or what is happening, we can trust that God is in control of everything and that we do have a friend in Jesus. When we are lonely, we can turn to Him, and He is the best friend that we can have. I prayed for my son that he would know Jesus in a special way in the days and weeks to come and that he would be able to lean on him, even in his saddest moments, and that this dear friend, Jesus, is a man who is familiar with sorrows, just like the sorrows that my son is experiencing. Just like the sorrows that you and I are experiencing.

Isaiah 53:3 appropriately says, "He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and familiar with suffering."

Dear reader, if you struggle with loneliness today, I want to encourage you to lean in to Jesus. He knows your every heart ache and your every burden; He has experienced them all in great measure. He will come in and fill the lonely places with His perfectly sized love for us.

God's Grace IS Sufficient

Dear reader, today I realize how much I have missed writing on the blog. It brings me so much joy and really helps me to internalize the truths that I learn about God.

The reason for my absence for the last week is that my 12 year old daughter had an unusual injury in ballet class, fracturing a part of her pelvis. We tried to manage her intense pain at home, over the weekend, but on Sunday morning I had had enough, and brought her to the ER. She was admitted for pain management, and ended up being in the hospital for three nights. It was so sad to watch her struggle with so much pain and the side effects of the pain medications that she was on. I am very relieved that she is home and feeling much better.

A friend shared with me that Shakespeare once said when sorrows come, they come not as single spies, but in battalions. I can relate to that right now. The dictionary says that a battalion is a large number of persons or things. In military terms, it is a ground force unit composed of headquarters and two or more companies; an army in battle array.

It does seem like a sort of assault when troubles come in multitudes. As I have shared, my heart is tired and weary as it sorrows over the crisis that I have been walking through, and now watching her suffer was heartbreak on top of heartbreak, as well as trying to care for my family, while she has such great need, was added challenge.

I am reminded of the description in 2 Corinthians 4:7-9 "But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed."

As the army of our sorrows push in, and we feel as we are overwhelmed, squished, even unable to take a deep breath, we can have hope, for within us we carry the truth of Jesus and his great love for us. And we can be confident that God will give us the grace that we need each moment of each day, as He says "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness" 2 Corinthians 11:28. God gave me the grace to stay up late (even all night)and care for her in her pain, to hold her hand, rub her back, alert the nurses, feed her when she could not, support her body when she needed to take a few steps to the bathroom, and discern what she needed and when, and be available to my other children, even if by phone, to help them as they go on with their lives. God's grace is truly sufficient.

I am thankful to be home, and I am thankful that even when I feel like it is too much, that I can rest in God's grace and He will do more than I can imagine. I hope that you are able to rest in these simple yet powerful, active truths, today. It is good to be back.

Longings and Tears

Yesterday, a friend gave me this piece of pottery, made on the streets of Jerusalem. Painted on it is the first verse from Psalm 42. "As the hart pants after the water brooks, so pants my soul after you, O God."

In the NIV this same verse reads as, "As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, O God" and continues with "My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When can I go and meet with God? My tears have been my food day and night ..." (Psalm 42:1-3).

We long for God as a deer who longs for water. Thirsty, we search for the life giving water of God Himself. We desire to be in His love, but in our despair and sorrow, we call out "But when can I do so? Where are you?" Like with physical thirst we can become weak, weary, and worn out, needing the One who can only satisfy.

Our souls thirst for water and our hearts cry streams of it. It is these tears that seem like our food, day and night. How many have you been there, too, where in our deepest pain, we can not eat, but only weep, and it is these tears that become our food. I believe that God uses these tears to nourish our soul. It is a paradoxical nourishment as we pour out our inner grief in tears, God uses this very act, as we are in utter dependence on Him, to bring us sustenance and to strengthen us.

The reality is, and who of us can not speak of the great struggle that it is, that side by side our deep longing (panting) for God lies snug up against the deep pain of our heart. We desire God and at the same time, our tears flow day and night. It is hard to live in the complexity of this. We may know to lean in to God and bring Him all of our brokenness and pain, and in that there is rest and hope. Yet, our emotions remain real and sometimes, very raw. Desiring God does not take away our broken hearts.

Have hope, dear reader. "The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit" (Psalm 34:18). As your soul weeps and your tears that feed you day and night flow, continue to lean in to God thirsting and longing for Him. He is close to you and will save.

Truth Amidst Tears

It is late now. The last couple of days have been tear stained, and I am exhausted. But, God continues to be faithful and to show me much about myself, Himself and the truth of my circumstances.

Tonite, I want to briefly share with you a paraphrase of Isaiah 61:1-3. It comes from the book Captivating, by John and Stasi Eldredge. If you are struggling with wounds and brokenness, and lets face it, who of us is not at some level, I highly recommend this book.

Two and a half years ago, I happened across the book at the Christian book store, and began to read it. It coincided with a time in my life when God was gradually beginning to lift the veil that had been shading my heart, and show me many truths. I wrote alot of thoughts in the margin of the book and dated them. As I picked up the book again today, it was very personal and intimate for me to see what I was thinking, where I was and where I am today, by what I had written at that time.

On one of my most marked up pages (page 95) the authors paraphrase verses from Isaiah 61. They were powerful words for me then and are very much for me today. Jesus says to my broken heart,

"God has sent me on a mission.
I have some great news for you.
God has sent me to restore and release something.
And that something is you.
I am here to give you back your heart and set you free.
I am furious at the Enemy who did this to you, and I will fight
against him.
Let me comfort you.
For, dear one, I will bestow beauty upon you
where you have known only devastation.
Joy, in the places of your deep sorrow.
And I will robe your heart in thankful praise
in exchange for your resignation and despair."

And He says that to your broken heart, too. On a day when it feels like I am surrounded by too much loss, and too little gain, I am choosing to remember that God does have joy for me in the places of deep sorrow, that He is fighting for me and giving me back my heart and setting me free.

Beauty for Ashes

Let's face it, some days are better than others. I wouldn't be authentic with you, dear reader, if I shared with you only my lovely "ah-ha" moments, and not the times that I struggle.


Today I felt lonely and angry and sad and hurt. It is a most unappealing flavor of soup, but in time, can be nourishing in its own way. There is always a lesson to be learned.


Today, I felt like I was in a snow globe.


My snow globe did not possess fluffy white flakes, but gray ashes. I saw myself standing amidst the rubble of some sort of devestation. When shaken, ashes whirled around me, and rested on my head. My face pressed up against the scratched up plastic dome, I peered out, pounding my fists and yelling, "I want out! I don't want to be in this anymore!"


As I gazed out, I saw other snow globes. These scenes looked much more peaceful than mine. Some with quaint English cottages and others with groves of pine trees. White, fresh, clean snow fell upon these scenes, when shaken, not ashes. I wanted to be in one of those Currier and Ives scenes, not mine.


I don't mean for it to sound like a pity party. It's just how I felt today. But then I was reminded of what the truth is for me ... I'm really not stuck in a snow globe. I have choices. I have the Lord.


I have the Lord directing my choices, making me in to what He desires of me and creating for me and in me, good and beautiful things in my life. As I remember Jesus and the reason for Christmas, I also am reminded that He has come to bind up the brokenhearted and proclaim freedom for the captives. (I am not stuck in a snow globe!) He will comfort all who mourn and provide for those who grieve. He will bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning and a grament of praise, instead of a spirit of despair. (Isaiah 61:1-3).


And this truly is all part of His unfailing love for you, and for me.