There are times in life when I am amazed by the kindness of God. The following little story is one such moment. heart emoticon

About 23 years ago, after running errands in Tyler, I decided to take my young daughters to lunch at The Olive Garden. They were very small, about one and three years old. It was a special treat for all three of us.

During the long wait for our food, we passed the time by coloring kid menus and doing the little activities printed on them. Their sweet attitudes caused my heart to swell as they attempted to act like little ladies in the nice restaurant. My parents lived across the country, and as a daughter myself, I had a pang for my own mother. "I wish Mom could see how sweetly they're behaving," I thought.

Within 20 seconds, an elderly woman came over to our table. She laid down a one dollar bill in front of Hannah and another in front of Abby.

"You girls are behaving so nicely, I just want to give each of you a dollar! What good little girls you are!”

Although my daughters were a little young to understand the monetary value of a dollar, I was flabbergasted by the immediate response from my Father. He showed me once again that day that He is a God Who Sees.

Wasn’t that kind of Him?

Roots

Here in Texas, lantana is a heat tolerant plant that does well. Unfortunately, it has taken over several flower beds in my yard and it is time to make some changes. 

There is something quite satisfying in the sound of a large root as it gives way to the shovel. As the blade goes deep,  the dislodging begins. With a resounding crack, the earth moves, making way for new life. It is a surprise to discover the far reaching underground connectivity between these large plants.  As old rocks and debris are removed, hope for change rises.  It is hard work.

The "root crack" of no longer desired growth can also be heard during a quiet time with God or a talk with a friend.  An underlying tuber of pain or unforgiveness may be discovered, and the blade of Truth must cut deep so better things can be planted.

Goodbye lantana, and goodbye bitterness. It's time for something new.

He Is Present

I am sitting in the woods hearing evidence of life that I cannot see.

The hidden crickets lift their voices, their existence undeniable.  Wind tickles my face, unseen yet effectively cooling me.  Invisible sounds mirror a dimension that cannot be viewed with physical eyes.

God camouflages Himself, and like a child hiding behind a chair, He delights in being found.

Don't stop looking for that Unseen Life. He is right there, hoping to be discovered by you.

Waiting

There is a crystal hanging in my bedroom window. Unmoving, it dangles there minding its own business, and most of the time there is no light coming to shine through it.

As I walked into this room a few minutes ago, I discovered several dozen "rainbows" littering the walls. The floor seems to be on fire with freshly laid gems and the ceiling is glittering with color.

This says so much to me about waiting. If it had been a human being, the crystal could have easily said, "I'm tired of hanging here, I'm going to go find some light so I can produce a little glory!" not knowing that its time to shine was oh, so very near.

How grateful I am that it was hung months ago, because now there is  beauty scattered in this normally bland corner of my house.

Be encouraged while you wait, something good is coming!

"And let us not grow weary in doing well, for in time we will reap, if we do not give up."

Galatians 6: 9

Change Will Come

This morning I rode my horse on dry ground.

The cracked earth under his hooves gave no indication of the puddles and mud we traversed just a few short weeks before.

No matter where you're standing, the season you are in will change. For the better? For the worse? Most likely, yes.

Hold steady. You won't be right here forever. The only "steady" is that you are loved by the One who made you.

He Delights

Yesterday, I spent the day with my oldest granddaughter, Leila.  (Pronounced Lee-EYE-la.)

This girl is truly the apple of my eye.  Her laughter evokes memories of her mother's bubbling giggle, a sound that previous to her existence was unmatched by any human I'd ever known.

Leila and I played games, read books, tossed a ball, ate cookies, and made up for lost time. Eight hours simply flew by!

In the midst of our time together, I uttered, "How I delight in you!"

There was an immediate echo reverberating into my heart by the One who originated such a profound reality.

There is no greater love than the Father's love.  I bless you with that thought today:

He delights in you.

Learning To See

When my daughters were small, I used to wish a for a day (or an hour!) without crisis or correction, tears or trauma.

It took me a while to learn how to quickly recover from the negative things that could derail a day. Eventually, I  learned that  the glory and delight of raising small children was embedded right there within the chaos. No longer did I expect The Perfect Day to be executed without a bump. 

This truth applies in a broader sense.  I doubt if there will ever be a time when there is not a worry or a care. Whether it's on the periphery or smack dab in the middle, a potentially pressing problem usually exists, and it will want to claim center stage. I've noticed that often the most treasured moments or days occur right in the midst of a heart searing trial.

It is my desire to have eyes to see the jewels in the gravel, instead of trampling them underfoot because I’m looking for pain free perfection. Life is good, and I purpose to savor the sweetness of it.

Experiencing The Gift

I was once given a thoughtful and lavish gift. My friend, Carey, had a favorite coffee drink that was an experience she wanted to share with those she loved.

The espresso shot was served in a special shot glass with sugar on the rim. She drank it with a mouth watering caramel at one of her favorite coffee bars in Seattle. She liked it so much, she wanted the people she loved to experience it, too, and for Christmas one year she went to considerable effort to make it possible.

My husband and I received a box with carefully wrapped shot glasses, ground espresso, Torano vanilla syrup, sugar, caramels, and beautifully printed step by step instructions on how to prepare it, all for the purpose of sharing her beloved experience.

It was a gift of love that had intention and design.

Although we gratefully received it and marveled at her generosity and kindness, we never did as instructed, thus we did not experience what she went to all the trouble for. We truly intended to do it sometime, but just didn't get around to it. (How often the "have to's" rob us of the "want to's!")

We were in possession of something we did not experience, and because we rarely saw Carey, we didn’t feel compelled or accountable to follow it through, though we were blessed by the expression of love she had demonstrated.

Thus it is with the Gift and promises of God.

How often we live our lives in a reduced state of consciousness, emotionally and otherwise, because we have never followed the instructions and actually experienced God's intention.

We are in possession of all of the components required for abundant life.

Joy is available! Victory has been bought and paid for! He Himself is ours for the taking.

Let's find and discover all that He has and all that He gave and live the life He intended to be ours.

What an indescribable Gift.

Christmas 2014

December 25th

When my elderly parents moved to Texas to be near me in 2003, it was just before Thanksgiving.  Little did they know that their lives were changing in difficult ways that went beyond a simple move across country.  Mom’s debilitating stroke that occurred upon their arrival to Texas, made even the most “simple moves” difficult.

As Dad settled into their tiny apartment, Mom settled into life in various hospitals, rehabs, nursing homes, etc.  Although my dad was sad and grieving, his laughter continued to flow easily, but as the months passed and Mom’s recovery slowed, her hope began to fade and her smile got lost.

In the days, months and even years that followed, it became my goal to bring that smile back to her face.  Going anywhere was laborious, but that grin was worth it, though it did not always come.  We went to movies, out to eat, played Bingo, came to the house, etc.    The most successful occasions were when I had a litter of ragdoll kittens playing all around her and the first few times my horses nuzzled her outstretched hand.  God bless them.  It was a real smile that stemmed from her love for animals.  Our golden retriever also had a way of bringing her to life, and she called to him in her stroke affected voice that I came to love so very much.

After my dad died, I decided to do whatever it took to get Mom to the Christmas Eve candlelight service at our church.  It was cold and dark and 20 miles away, and her tolerance for excursions in the van outfitted for handicap travel had become almost nil.  My husband,  ever the servant hearted, drove to the nursing home and successfully situated her wheelchair at the end of our row.  She was finally in the midst of My Community - people I’ve laughed and cried with for more years than I can count. Her presence there brought on a torrent of tears.  I felt like the guys who had carried their sick friend across town and lowered him through the roof so he could be near  Jesus.   I cried and I cried, because that’s all I really wanted:  for her to be near Jesus.   

Last night, we had that same candlelight service and it’s been 8 years since she left us. It will always be a reminder to me of the night my mom sat in her wheelchair at the end of my row. How the  pain of trying to make her life better rolled down my cheeks.  

I miss you, Mom, and I am thinking of you today.

The Intangibles

Yesterday I posted about God’s provision in my early years with Him. His miraculous provision encompassed more than finances, but often they were the need through which He showed Himself loving and present.

Now my need is for wisdom, for grace, for understanding, for love that is bigger than my own.

I need to remember the many things I’ve been released from as I struggle through some deep disappointments and fears.

Money is simply training ground for true riches - those intangible things in the here and now that really will last forever - that’s what I’m living for, believing for, waiting on.

Now is my chance to bring that exclamation of marvel from my Father’s heart. I choose to trust Him. I choose to believe that when it looks like He’s sound asleep, He is still in control, ready to calm the waves and wind with just one word.

I’m believing that when my heart hits a wall, he’s here to help me walk through it. His hand is open and outstretched, and when I don’t have the strength to hang on to Him, He’s got me.

And He’s got you, too. We are in this together.

Remembering

In the early 80’s, I remember praying and telling God with tears that it was hard for me to spend the little money I had on toiletries. (To give you an idea, my tithe was $1.73!) I asked Him to please help me with this and then forgot about it, not telling anyone. Not long after, I received a box in the mail from my mother, filled with shampoo, conditioner, and lotion samples that she and my dad had acquired in their travels. I was blown away - so small and yet so huge!

On the morning of a doctor’s appointment, I found $20 in my shoes. (This happened several times.)

One time, while traveling, my alarm clock broke. After a concert I had performed somewhere in CA, a woman I had attempted to share Christ with on an airplane months before, came to hear us sing. She came to the concert and afterward handed me a small box, wrapped up in pretty paper. You guessed it: an alarm clock!

These are the “small” things, but they are just as significant as the much needed “ram in the thicket” gifts that came unexpectedly when needed. (Like the desperately needed $5000 that came from a church I'd never been to.)

The wonderful part of all this is that He hasn’t changed, He continues to provide grace and strength for each day, one day at a time. I have learned that one day is all that I can handle, anyway.

Remembering Him and all that He does is hydrating to the heart.

Six Weeks

Six weeks ago, I was figuring out how to get to Wheaton, IL, where my husband, Burt, was about to undergo emergency bypass surgery.

My first instinct for help in quick traveling, was to call Frank De Jong, and that instinct proved to be correct! Within minutes, he was at my door, a printed itinerary in hand, with the mission of getting me and my hastily packed bag to the DFW airport in record time. That 80 plus miles blurred past my window, as I texted family and friends, and spoke with the OR nurse who felt so very far away.

As my plane began taxiing, I had one last medical interaction as the Physician's Assistant called to let me know Burt was wide open on the operating table and things were in full swing.

My last nine years with horses have contributed to my ability to live in the moment - not an hour ahead or behind - and I believe this mindset helped me to endure that flight as I played a mindless game on my phone. Arms of grace wrapped around my heart, and held me in perfect peace.

As the plane was about to land, I mentioned to my seat mate that my husband was having unexpected open heart surgery as we flew, and she looked rather wide eyed, trying to find appropriate words. My phone rang as we hit the pavement of the O'Hare runway and I was updated on the surgery as if I were merely in the waiting room a few feet away.

All was well, Burt was doing great, the bypass was complete and they were going to start sewing him up.

This is the face that greeted me when I finally got to his side at dinnertime that evening, minutes after the respirator was taken out.

My husband, helpless on his back, smiled at me.

He's still smiling, and I am smiling back.

Something I wrote in January and never got around to pushing the "publish" button...

January 6th

The reality of going to Hyderabad, India in about four weeks is beginning to press itself into the fore front.

Although the Christmas decorations and tree have been mostly cleared out, they remain in their boxes on the front porch and behind the couch, waiting to be lugged to their place in the “barn”. 

I wasn’t quite ready to let go of the warm glow of my pretty village houses and lit garlands for a year, their beauty was still bringing a smile to my heart.  But, my husband - willingly and of his own accord - just started dealing with it.  I’m no dummy, so I just sat here on the couch, determinedly knitting my first pair of booties, and I let him do it.  All. By. Himself.  Twenty four hours later he did harumph a bit when I asked him to please remove the unlit, undecorated tree that was blocking the window.  (The window that brings in the best light of the year into our sometimes dark house. I place a high value on light, and I was ready to let it come shining in.)  So, cold weather and all, the tree has been dragged to it’s place to die.  It is sad, really, because it is the best tree we’ve had in years and it was still alive.  In fact, the way you can tell how fresh and alive a Christmas tree is by how much water it soaks in.  (There's a sermon for ya'!)

Malorie and Austyn have been gone a little over 48 hours.  They left early on Saturday morning and did their drive in a day to beat the snow that met them upon their arrival in Wheaton.  I’m glad they have been able to enjoy a few days tucked into their apartment watching the beautiful snow from their third floor window.  

So, as I said, I’m going to India.  I don’t know why in the world I am going!  I have this latent Mother Teresa living inside of me who pops up her aching head and thrusts me into the third world every few years.  I guess it’s to show myself once again that it’s all really too much for me.  There is only One Person who can actually understand and do anything about the massive problem of human suffering which is rampant throughout the world.  Oh Lord God, how I ache when I look at the pictures of the the lepers we will be visiting.  I hope You will burn purpose into my heart and do something of value through me and within me.  How I need You every hour.

I truly feel that I am sometimes the most selfish being on the planet.  I want rest.  I want quiet.  I want to sit in front of the fire and think thoughts about God and His love.  I’m not really a doer first.  I am more of a be-er.  I can’t put a value judgment on these things, because both are needed.  We’ve all heard a sermon bashing one and lifting the other.  It seems that condemnation lurks, ready to pounce on the religious, willing victim.

So I say, “Get out of here, you religious spirit and leave me alone.  I could never be enough or do enough for you anyway.  Besides, you’re just jealous.  You’re the one with no purpose.  And you’re the one not needed.  So leave me alone.  Amen.”

That said, I think I will stop typing and breathe for a while.

I am in the saddle in front of a lake and it is lightly misting out. 

As the water gently tickles my face, I am reminded of the people with whom I "walked to the gate" as they entered eternity. 

It seemed to me that heaven touched earth for a little while, and it was kind of like the mist I am experiencing now.

I am remembering those goodbyes - comforted - knowing that for them it was a joyous hello.

I love mist.

As parents, most of us love to document the victories and milestones of our children's lives. We take picture after picture and shoot endless footage of brain numbing video because we simply want to remember.

We want to remember their first steps, their first birthdays, even the mundane moments between the happy holiday highlights of November and December.

With this in mind, are there milestones in us that God the Father celebrates and remembers?

What if heaven rejoices when we choose to believe even when our hearts are wrenched with grief?

Does God notice when we worship Him when all around feels oppressive and dark?

I bet it melts His heart when we declare before the forces of darkness that He Is Good No Matter What.  (It is a high honor to have the privilege of walking by faith.)

Being created in His image, we mirror Him in ways we don’t understand; if we celebrate the first steps of our children, surely He celebrates ours.

I look forward to seeing from His Perspective, but for the time being, I imagine My Father's Smile, and it spurs me on.

Yesterday's Ride

The “Old Tyler Highway” stretched endlessly ahead as my horse and I started our four hour ride at The Mineola Preserve. 

The wet mush under Traveler's hooves gradually became thick mud, and I started to feel a little lonely as the ground got lower and more difficult to travel.  Then four angels appeared - on horses of course.  Angels in the form of people,  all of whom were about 15 years older than myself.  It isn’t often that I come across  geriatric riders - one with pure white hair - sitting astride their saddles as if the thought of arthritis  had never entered their minds!   I joined their entourage as we made our way out of the mud, back up to  where I started. Enjoying their banter, I silently smiled, thanking the Lord for riding companions.  Their kindness to include me touched my heart.

We rode along paths on high ground that I hadn’t seen for years, and the views were serene and beautiful.  It was so much fun.  

At one point, we had to slog through some marshy water and Traveler did something he has only gotten away with one other time. I thought he was dropping his head to sneak a sip to drink, but HE LAID DOWN in the ice cold water.  The last time that happened, I was riding with strangers, too, but it was a very hot day.  SO FUNNY.  He will not be getting away with this again for a long time!  (Though I took it all in stride, I was happy to get my wet socks off when I got home.)

How grateful I am for the blessing of a long ride on a beautiful day with new friends.  In my community, my role is usually that of mentor.   It was nice to be in the company of those who have lived longer than me. They have probably dealt with some of the battles that press upon me and they have lived through them all.  This comforts my heart.

We will all get through whatever it is that is bogging us down.  We will get where He is taking us and He will not forsake us there.  He will lead us by the hand, and though we may look back and wonder how, it will all be okay in the end.

It was a great ride.

Tears

Yesterday, I was broadsided with the pain of an already grieved loss. It unapologetically imposed itself upon me and demanded the release of unquenchable tears. The sight of a person associated with the death of my mom triggered something seemingly dormant, but was evidently alive and well within. Why would I be surprised? It would have been so easy to just walk in the other direction, but the innocent act of speaking and acknowledging my mom's former nurse opened the door to the hidden torrent within.

I almost always enjoy the cathartic event of crying, but when the need to sob materializes while trying to check out at Sam's, causing me to forget my PIN and flustering the cashier, the joy of release threatens to be lost! How many times have tears gotten stuck behind my eyes, taunting me with the pressure, but refusing to be released? Their secret joy must be in taking me by surprise, reducing me to a sniveling little old lady whose fragility seems to elicit a hug from the pubescent girl behind the counter.

Not that I was ashamed to cry, everybody needs to cry, being that tears are a gift. When a good howl is needed, it's just better to be safely hidden away with ones cats, horses, dogs, or people, whomever has the power to comfort most. Who knows how many tears live inside? Maybe they are hiding in there, just waiting to yell, "Surprise! You thought you were fine! Ha ha, we gotchya!"

Maybe tears are a sign of life, kind of like an emotional pulse. To let them flow, embracing one's humanness in the middle of consumer land is probably not so bad, so I lifted my head and I cried. No longer was I just one more person hurrying through the line, but a girl grieving for her mother. These tears were a gift. I spoke through them, smiled through them, and let them flow as the young girl counted my items at the door and highlighted my receipt. They refreshed my face as I walked through the dark parking lot, and reminded  me that I am grateful for the arms of God, a wonderful husband and sisters to call. And call them I did, and then I cried some more.

Life is good, even with its pain; I am happy to be alive, grateful to have had parents to miss.  Thankful for the years I was able to take care of them. Humbled that I was present as they were ushered into eternity. 

Starting another day, will tears once again present themselves? I'll let you know.

My Grandma's Cup

I am a sentimental soul. 

One of the ways this presents itself is through the enjoyment I receive when I use the old earthenware and china bequeathed to me from my mom, my grandmas, and my mother in law. They are no longer on this earth, but somehow, the act of pouring coffee into a cup that they once treasured brings them close to my heart. 

I say it once again: It's the little things that bless me so.

This cup belonged to my dad's mom, Isabel Averill Gramling.

My Boys

Although I have made it my goal to reduce the four legged population on our homestead, (It was really out of hand, people!) I still have a dog, a cat, and two horses. I'm so glad they're still here, because they do my heart good.

Yesterday, Burt came along with me to Mercy Ships. I loaded both horses in the trailer and we drove the two minutes from our home to the back of the property where I have spent many hours riding my horses. My sweet husband swung into the saddle and became part of my world for a while. Although he has some sore bones in hidden places, he can see why I love it so and he might even do it again. 

Traveler was a perfect gentleman for my gentle man. Yes, I am blessed by all of these boys, four legged and two.

Rain

In our family, a rainy day has always been a cause for celebration.

We would usually stop whatever we were doing, and with my husband, Burt,  leading the charge, all five of us would pile out onto the front porch, reveling in the wonder of water falling from the sky.

When the girls were tiny, I remember teaching them to look closely at the dancing drops, and we would laugh at the tiny explosions as they hit the ground. Sometimes we could not all manage to make it outside when the rain started, but Burt would almost always have at least one girl on his lap, silently soaking in the comforting sound.

It's no wonder I looked outside one day and saw Abby lying in the front yard, waiting for the blessing, and when it came, she soaked it up.

Her daddy taught her well.