Those Eyes

A good reminder for those of us in the Marble Chasers Club

I'm still learning how to exchange my marbles for his pearls of peace~

     " Growing in the Lord is the progression from strength to weakness." ~ author unknown 

Christianity's goal is NOT to become sinless everyday (sin-free).
The goal is to live grounded in peace, knowing that it's not about our "doing" but in His "done".  And as such, living a life full of endearing gratitude and humility before (and for) the Doer himself.~

The journey of Faith

  




  

      
     A middle-aged man called out to God through his tears. Hidden tears that dare not be exposed except in private. His words were more of a plea but for what he wasn't certain. He knew something was off, lacking, a hidden desire. In the morning quiet, with cup in hand, he more than whispered, his voice broke the deafening silence, despite the open window. "Help me God!"
The air was still, no wind gently blowing, no birds singing outside the window, and not even the roar of a car passing by. He listened. He waited. For what, he didn't know. Yet beneath the heaviness, he heard it, so quiet he almost missed it.  "What do you want Child. What is it your heart desires? His voice broke and to his surprise the words came freely. "I want to be whole, I want to be free, I don't want. . . I want to be sold out to YOU. No more excuses. . . I want? I want to be authentic, a man of GREAT faith."
He barely breathed as he recognized the depths of those desires. Would God, could God break through the chaos of his heart? Could He shatter the other "masters" he had placed in his life? Could God help him to love Him (God) more? Frankly, he was tired of trying to be what others expected and wanted from him. He wanted to want more. He wanted nothing but true living.
Stillness became loud. And then he heard the inaudible:
"Child what you ask shall come to pass, you will become a man of great faith and I will see you to the other side. I will produce that fruit in your life. But I must warn you that in order to grow into such faith you will walk a difficult path. Faith brings growing pains. But don't be afraid, I will be there with you, walking with you, encouraging you and showing you the way. You will pass through it to the other side and you will indeed see my glory in it."
Peace rained over him, though somehow he knew tough times lie ahead. Without skipping a beat, Doubt knocked at the door of his mind, but he dismissed it.
"Lord, why is it that sometimes it seems easier to let go and to have more faith in difficult times? Why do we seem to struggle more with the everyday trials?"
Quiet pause.
"Because in the everyday moments you think you can handle it all alone."
He held his breath and something within him KNEW the depth of that reality. He recognized how the darker moments of his life, the bankruptcy, the cancer scare, the rebellious teen and the stale marriage, could be considered gifts, instead of curses. They were opportunities to NEED Him, to desire Him, to walk WITH Him. And to grow in faith which gives way to the ability to see his Glory (in his life.) They were really days of new birth, with the ability to birth greater faith, greater joy, and greater peace. What he had seen as evil could instead become blessings of great faith.
He bowed his head and with an open heart gave thanks for the many blessings (both great and small) that he once thought as curses.
Today as we stand and face the world with all its wonders, both good and bad, let us choose to recognize the Hope to which we've been called and the blessing in every trial that comes our way.

Chapter Two

 And so the trip continues. . .

                      *see my previous post for Chapter One

                                        

                                           

                                                                 GOOGLE IMAGE

                                         

It was late morning when the plane landed. I was exhausted from the swell of emotions I had been experiencing. My body ached from several nights of no rest and I could feel my energy quickly draining. I needed a good meal (and a nap). But knowing I had a lengthy drive ahead of me, I opted to grab fast food on the trip to the hotel. I had an hour drive to the hotel in Mesa where my sister and I would spend the next couple of days together; the last moments this side of eternity.

The sun nearly blinded me as I maneuvered the rental car from the dark parking lot onto the foreign roadway. As I reached for my sunglasses, I recognized my dependence on the rented G.P.S. and hoped it would not fail me. 

The Arizona skyline with it's mountains and cacti nearly took my breath away; a far cry from the flat lands and gray skies I had left behind.  Though it was late morning, the sun was already beating into the car's interior; a welcomed guest that lifted my spirits even if only for a moment. There was something about seeing the palm trees and beautiful horizon that moved me. Something stirred me. Perhaps it was the adventurer within me; a part of me that had grown dormant throughout the years. The once free spirited little girl was now replaced by a middle aged woman. (One who had grown to accept 'practicality' over adventure.) In all the years of living outside of Chicago, I had never attempted to make the drive alone to the city.  And yet here I was, driving alone in unknown territory and it was both exhilarating and terrifying.

“Time to grow up Lori,” I whispered, taking in the  view. I flipped the radio dial, hoping I would find some relief for the deep sorrow that loomed. A sorrow that was longing to burst forth, yet I did everything I could to hold it down.

After about fifteen minutes and with each passing road sign there came a realization that Mesa was in the other direction. A sudden surge of adrenaline left me sweaty and panicked. The navigation system was shouting orders, “Turn left, turn right.” Over and over it barked, taking me in wide circles. I found myself praying and exited the highway. 
“Dear Jesus, help me find my way. Keep me safe on this     journey.” 
 I pulled over and tried unsuccessfully to reset the G.P.S.

“Great. Just great,” I exhaled. “Now what?” Suddenly both my eyes and the air inside the car seemed to burn; it burned hot. I cracked a window, but dared not to drop it too low, resting my head on the seat.

“This. This is why I never venture anywhere by myself. This is why I am such a wimp.”

Self pity had once again made a visit, and I could no longer hold back the ocean of tears that spilled forth from the recesses of my soul. A thousand thoughts raced through my mind as I felt helpless and ashamed of my inadequacies (and fears).

After tears had squeezed my soul nearly dry, I inhaled and once again reigned in my emotions, lowering my head for a prayer. Once again I felt the Lord's presence and was reminded of his words on the plane, “Fear not for I am with you. This will be a difficult journey for you but I will be with you. Do not be afraid.” Wiping the tears I knew what I needed to do. I needed to call my "big" sister.

 Knowing she would be at the hospital having another round of radiation to her brain, I was pleasantly surprised to hear her voice on the other end. Thankfully she was still in the waiting room and sounded rather chipper; more energetic than I had expected. During our phone conversations the weeks prior I noticed her breathing had become labored and her voice hoarse. But today she sounded much more alert and I could almost hear the sparkle in her eyes as she gave me directions to the hotel. It was a relief to my heavy heart.

Several months after Susan had been given a clean bill of health, she was told that the cancer had suddenly metastasized to her brain and lungs. This is often the case with this kind of breast cancer. It was devastating news for us all but she refused defeat and decided to count her blessings; and like so many given the same prognosis, she determined to live each day as a gift. (Something that came much easier for her than me.) Her free spirit had always allowed her to see the good, when I seemed to find the bad. (Its what attracted so many to her.)  And though the years of cancer treatment nearly took her life on several occasions, it did not stop her once again from accepting any hope that continued treatment could offer. A brave decision, one I'm not sure I could have made. The prognosis was not good and she was given an oxygen tank and short of a miracle, only a few months to live.

With the time she had left she hoped to redeem as much of her life as she could, giving love and receiving it. She began a Facebook page in celebration of her life, where family and friends could honor her and share happy memories with her. Quite clever when you think about it and what a blessing it was to everyone who participated. She also wanted to visit with those of us whom she had denied for so many years. The word, “denied” seems so strong, but in the end that is exactly what happens to many families of addicts. The drugs themselves become “family” and those who dare reach out to the addicts are denied access to their hearts and lives. This was the case for my dear sister and yet it was cancer, as awful as it was, that allowed us access once again into her life. Not long after the news, she called the family to come visit her while she still had the energy. While she fought with everything she had, I believe she knew deep within her that her days were short. 

What would take place in the hotel room, I wondered? Only God knew and I had to trust him, but I could not shake the darkness that felt so palpable, I could feel it's presence. There was one other than God who was also with me, and I knew there was more to the story than I could see.

Once back on the road my eyes drank in the beauty and soon my mind began to wander to old memories, forgotten chapters. And I was taken back to the early years when Susan was my rock, my protector against the “bogeyman,” but little did I know that it was she whom needed protection.

The Bible says that the enemy roams like a roaring lion looking for those he can devour. . .

Sadly, I soon learned that early in Susan's life the bogeyman had made a visit.

To be continued. . .

A New Chapter Begins

                                                                     

I sat staring out the plane's tiny window into the darkness. I'm not sure if it was the uneven rhythm of my breathing or the closed air vent above me that caused the air to be so thick. My eyes darted quickly about the plane for exit signs and the strangers seated around me. Even with my short legs I was grateful for a bulkhead seat. A tall man with perfect splashes of gray at his temples took a seat in the isle across from me. His long and lanky legs barely missed the wall in front of him. I looked down at my own legs and felt a sense of guilt; as if I had stolen a covetous seat from someone much more deserving.


As the last few passengers filed past, a young mother with a little girl stood looking for their seats. The lines of her brow didn't seem to match her age. She looked my way and I offered a halfhearted smile, trying to mask my own insecurity. As if frightened that I may look into her eyes, she looked away and continued down the long narrow isle. After a few moments the flight attendant began speaking over the intercom. I focused on her explanation of what to do in case of lowered air pressure or a crash over water. She pointed to each exit and the instructions on how to open the door in case of an emergency. Though her smile was friendly it didn't calm the stirring inside of me. I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, I felt a bit dizzy. Glancing at the empty seats next to me I was relieved. Conversation or small talk was not on my agenda, especially so early in the morning. I needed space. Space to think, to pray, and to consider the magnitude of the journey ahead of me. I needed space to breathe. Breathe, breathe. I inhaled deeply as the plane began to ascend. And as I closed my eyes I clutched the seat tighter and began to silently pray. 

Once we reached the desired altitude and began leveling out I opened my eyes and looked toward the tall man in the next isle. He held a newspaper to his face and was studying one of the headlines. I wondered about his story? Where was he going and where was he from? He looked calm and appeared to be a frequent traveler. Business or pleasure, I wondered? Business, definitely business. The young woman next to him appeared to be asleep, but maybe she too was praying, who knows? Her long blonde hair was in a pony tail, and she donned a ISU sweat shirt, jeans and a pair of UGGs. What took her out of class so early in the semester? Even with my own attempts to focus elsewhere, an unnerving restlessness continued to hover over me. As I reached for a piece of gum and the over priced book that I had purchased before boarding a baby began crying a few rows behind me. Poor thing,  I thought to myself, his ears are probably bothering him. I hoped the book would be a welcomed distraction from the unending stream of thoughts that had plagued me for weeks.

After ten minutes I realized I had read the same 5 sentences over and over again. I had no idea what I had just read. The racing thoughts demanded my attention and soon my focus was directed onto the visit awaiting me. Something deep inside of me gave a strong impression that I was on a “Holy” trip; that somehow this was going to be more than a visit with my dying sister. My palms were damp and my fingers felt icy, reminding me of the fear I had been trying desperately to ignore since making the reservations. Not only my fear of flying but an even greater fear of knowing I would be seeing my sister for the very last time. I didn't want to make the trip. I wanted to ignore her invitation and pretend it all away. But I couldn't, I wouldn't. And while it would be our last time together, it would also our first time alone together in over ten years. Both insecurity and anxiety poured over me. How was I going to bare this, saying Hello and goodbye all in the same trip? Life had been unfair, it had robbed us of precious time, opportunities to make memories as adults, memories I would always cherish if I had been given the opportunity.



I shifted in my seat, leaning closer to the window gasping at the beauty of the sunrise. A slice of brilliant orange was scarcely peeking over an unending layer of lavender clouds. Yellow fingers of light shot up, filling the whole sky with an awareness of something or someone much greater than mankind. And as I studied the wonder of it all, I wondered how many sunrises my sister had left.

Our recent few phone conversations and Facebook chats played over and over again in my mind. Even the humming of the plane's engine could not drown out the memory of her words on that day four years prior. Six years had passed with only two or three phone calls from her, usually an attempt for money or something else she needed at the moment. That particular call caught me off guard. For years, in my own attempt to protect my heart, I expected to never hear from her again. Drugs have a way of stealing dreams, hopes and relationships. But here she was on the other end of the phone, her voice stoic and somewhat formal.



“Lori, it's Susan. How are you? Well, I'm calling because I wanted to let you know that I have Breast Cancer. . .” Her words raced on but I didn't hear a thing. With each word she spoke my legs became heavier. I listened and assured her I would be there for her as much as I could. I hung up the phone still stunned. It wasn't suppose to be this way, I thought. And yet something inside of me told me this was the providential hand of God.



It would take a diagnosis of Breast Cancer to reunite us after so many years. And as I sat alone on the plane contemplating how the conversations may go, old dormant hurt feelings were trying to resurface. Would we finally be able to clear the air? I had become proficient in glossing over the elephant in the room but could true reconciliation take place like that? Would she finally open up and let me into her world, as dark as it had been? Her world of addiction, heartache, and lies? Even with all the hurt, I still had a deep love for my older sister. Even with all her poor choices I still looked up to her, adored her. I stood at a crossroad wondering if I could ever fully express to her all my hurt while still conveying my love. Or would I once again tiptoe around it all without saying a word? Was I suppose to act as though nothing had happened? Was I suppose to skirt around all the questions of how she'd lived all these years? More importantly, I wondered if she could ever come to realize that her feelings of being a black sheep were merely lies she had told herself? Lies that directed many of her steps throughout her life. Could she come to understand how much she was truly loved, not only by me but by God? Could she see that it was time for her to stop her running, even at death's door? And if the conversation allowed for such things, could I do what was called of me and share with her all that laid upon my heart; would I have the words?



As the minutes skipped by, a new pain pulsated at the importance of our visit, this final journey to say good-bye; to share so much that had laid hidden for so long. Memories began washing over me, like a bittersweet balm. Tears stung hot and freely ran down my cheek. A lump formed deep within my throat. and I no longer cared who sat around me. I no longer worried who may see the tears, I let them run freely. I grabbed a tissue and in the next few moments as I sat watching the sun rise somehow there was a sudden awareness of God's presence with me. I was not to do this alone. This was not about me or about her, it was about Him. As clear as day, and yet inaudible, I felt him say, “Fear not, for I am with you. Fear NOT, I go before you. Your journey will not be an easy one, but I will be with you. Do not be afraid.” And in that moment I knew God was on a mission and I was privileged to be part of it. Little did I know that the journey He spoke of was not simply the few days spent with my sister, but one far longer than I could have ever imagined.




And so that was the beginning of a new chapter on my journey, one that opened secret places I didn't even know existed. . .

                                                                

Currently I am attempting to put to words this adventure in which I find myself. It seems I am on a treasure hunt with God leading the way. I don't promise to have all the answers in this life, nor to write a happily ever after fairy tale. Instead I will write about a true story, my story; one with honest struggles, fears, hopes and even in the darkest moments, faith. In the end I KNOW I will have my Happily Ever After. Yet it is on this journey, living in the here and now, that I find can be the most interesting, the moments when God reveals himself when we least expect it. Feel free to tag along with me as I share the secret places of my heart, my life and my struggles along the way. And I hope that in some small way it will bless those who have decided to come along for the ride.


~Lori

To be continued. . .

Holy Distraction

We all know how dangerous the distractions of this life can be. They seem to be EVERYWHERE these days and they can easily draw us away from keeping our eyes on the Lord and his wonderful plan for us.

Yet there are other kinds of distractions as well.  I used to (oh who am I kidding, I hate to admit it but at times I still do) get  aggravated when things distract me from my "work."  If I am not careful, I find myself becoming easily offended.  And before I  know it, the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart are anything but pleasing to the Lord. 

But I am thankful that while Jesus walked the earth the "distractions" He faced drew him to people!? Love never fails.

We are his welcomed "distraction."  His "distraction" unto  to the cross!  

The blind man, the leper, the lame, the demon possessed all slowed him from quickly reaching the place in which he was headed that day. 

The journey became the destination and the "distractions" were not only a part of the journey . . .  they were the very reason for it.

So as we go about our day

Psalm 19:14
"May the words of my (our) mouth(s) and the meditations of my (our) heart(s) be pleasing in your sight, O LORD, my (our) Rock and my(our) Redeemer." 

I'm glad the Lord wasn't easily offended or rushed, aren't you?

(Google images above)

A Whisper in the Night

                                                

                                                 

  During the last two nights  I have woken  up to find myself whispering,                                                                         “Jesus, help me.”

 I must have woke up 5 times last night doing that. Each time my lids flew open; I noticed my heart was in my stomach as if I had just ridden a roller coaster. What on earth was I dreaming?? Thankfully, even though I woke anxious, after a quiet prayer, I was able to fall back to sleep each time. 
My heart has been heavy for my brothers and sisters in Iraq who are facing great terror. And I have to believe my waking is a result of that, so I prayed for them.

    (Or perhaps my family's viewing of  "Shark Week" was a bit too much.)

                  

  This morning with a good strong cup of coffee (Thank you Folgers) a memory from long ago came to mind. 

When one of our sons was a toddler he used to experience “night terrors” in his sleep. Sometimes he would have several in one night. 

 It was the scariest thing for a young mama to witness, and according to the pediatrician it was something he would outgrow (which thankfully he did.)

     Deep in the middle of the night, I would find him crying out in his sleep. As I ran to him I found him thrashing and clawing and climbing out of his crib. One night he even ran for the back door trying to escape whatever terror he was experiencing. Each time I would scoop him up in my arms and try to soothe him, however, the doctor told me the worst thing I could do was to wake him. If I did it could frighten him even more (which honestly  I didn't think possible.) The whole time he screamed, “I want my Mama, I want my Mama!”   While I held him tight, his sweet little eyes would open and he would look straight at me, but still dreaming he could not see me.  Terror would send him into kicking and screaming fits as I held him in my arms; all the while wishing I could take away his fears and wondering what on earth he was experiencing. I found that lightly rubbing his tummy, whispering a prayer over him and singing quietly would eventually calm him back into a peaceful slumber.  It broke my heart that he did not know that I was there holding him and comforting him even as his eyes looked up at me.

     I have to wonder when we are having our own times of terror, if our Lord becomes saddened when we too call out to him over and over again and do not recognize Him holding and comforting us.  And unlike that young mama so many years ago, He does see what we are experiencing. It is He who knows exactly how to calm our greatest fears when we whisper to him,

                                                                “ Jesus, help me .”

                                                                

(All images by Google)

To Live the Life of a Treasure Hunter

You've heard it said, "Live as though today is the first and last day of your life." But how do we put it into practice? Why is it that people who are living with a terminal disease can appreciate life so much more than those of us who go through our usual day to day existence?  What reality snaps within them that allows them to appreciate the flight of a butterfly or the strength of an ant so much more than before their diagnosis? Is it because they are able to now appreciate the gift of life that they have been given; even if only for this moment?

 The butterfly has not changed its flight, nor has the ant its stride, yet simply the perception of them has become new. I long for that kind of vision, to appreciate LIFE, every bit of it. Of course I'd prefer not  to have to come face to face with death in order to do so. But if we are truly honest, we all are terminal; we only have this moment. The next moment is a mystery, and life can change in the blink of an eye.  Yes, what a gift to see the world with the awe of a child, to capture the beauty within the mundane, to give thanks for the pain, because even in the pain there is life. 


Lord, on our journey together, no matter how long or short it may be, please open my eyes. 
                                                                                I want to find it to be a beautiful view, every bit of it.

Kisses At The Stoplight

                                                                            
                                                                                

                                                                              (Google image)



      I am very grateful for good friends. The older I get the more I appreciate them. And I love to hear how the Lord is working in their lives.  Today a dear friend of mine called  from Florida to share with me about her "God Kiss."  God Kisses are those moments that I refer to when God, in his loving kindness, reminds us of his great and unconditional love for us. Often times he does it in the most extraordinary ways and other times through the simplest of things. Both she and I have experienced God Kisses in the most sweetest moments, usually when we least expect it. This time for her it was at a stop light.

     The last several months my friend, Debbie has been working several jobs, as well as going to school at night.   Her days have been long and her energy has been getting lower. And though her faith has been strong,  she has been exhausted- feeling overworked and underpaid, wondering when she will get ahead.   Her God Kiss came just in time, for the Lord is never late.  Thank you Lord for your faithfulness and encouragement to those who  choose to trust you.

     This morning with her foot on the accelerator,  she noticed the stoplight in front of her quickly change from  green to yellow and red again. Only a couple of cars were able to make the light.  She sighed, taking a deep breath and let it out slowly, wishing she has been one of them.  But as she sat, she looked up and  noticed two little birds sitting  atop  the light pole in front of her. They were small and cute, and she couldn't help but watch them as they played. 

She watched them in awe as their play turned into a dance, a poem;  a synchronized rhythm before her eyes.  A display that appeared to be just for her.  Together they moved in such a unique way she couldn't help but be mesmerized by the joy set before her. She watched as one bird would follow exactly the movement of the other. One would fly with  beautiful orchestrated movements and the next would do exactly the same. Each movement brought a smile to her heart.

As they landed once again  she saw their heads move with such grace and before her eyes they formed a heart. She whispered a prayer asking the meaning of it all.  She took another deep breath, this time out of awe. The Lord spoke to her Spirit, "Follow me, keep your eyes on me and do exactly as I do. I will give you rest and provide for your every need. Follow me and you too will fly." 

I love it when the Lord speaks to us in ways we can truly hear and understand. In my sweet friend's case the Lord gently reminded her that all that is required of her is to follow Him, to mimic Him, to dance with him and he will give her strength to fly. 

Isaiah 40:28-31

New International Version (NIV)

28 Do you not know?
    Have you not heard?                                                                                                               (Google image)
The Lord is the everlasting God,
    the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He will not grow tired or weary,
    and his understanding no one can fathom.
29 He gives strength to the weary
    and increases the power of the weak.
30 Even youths grow tired and weary,
    and young men stumble and fall;
31 but those who hope in the Lord
    will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
    they will run and not grow weary,
    they will walk and not be faint.

Summing it all up

                                                                                

We have all heard the song, "Amazing Grace" and many know the lyrics, "I was blind but now I see." 
Vision, perspective, and understanding can make all the difference in one's life, can't it? Recently I was "pondering" (Yes, Kristin Bridgman, I do it too) I was pondering about how we are all wired differently and how it seems that I have been wired to be "a problem solver." But when you think about it, haven't we all have been 'taught' to be problem solvers? Think back to school. Arithmetic (Math for you kids) was nothing more than problem solving, was it not? And so in some ways we've all been programmed to "solve problems."


                                                                            

                                                                         

Math frustrated me in school. I am very methodical and if I missed the foundation for solving one problem it took me into a downward tailspin for the next equation. And if I can be brutally honest, life can frustrate the bajeebies out of me from time to time. Such is the plight of the recovering perfectionist.  But you don't have to be a perfectionist to get frustrated by life's problems once in a while.

As I sat and pondered I thought about my own journey through life and how there has been a certain "problem" that has followed me through out my whole life. And in my journey I have sought out various ways to "fix" it. I've been pretty desperate at times too and done some pretty crazy things in order to cure this issue. (That's another story for another day.) Oh don't get me wrong, I've also prayed about it asking the Lord to help ME to fix the problem. Sometimes I'm even "crazy" enough to ask HIM to fix it.  Before you start telling me about having a mustard seed of faith, let me explain.

I've come to the conclusion that sometimes, the Lord will not fix or take away a problem in our lives and for a good reason. Sometimes problems simply are not meant to be solved. Imagine that. There's a novel idea. (Sorry to all my math teachers along the way. Maybe I didn't get it because I wasn't suppose too, ha!) But seriously, sometimes the purpose of the problem is not so we can solve it, but so we can learn THROUGH it. *Perhaps we only have sight when we have learned another kind of lesson. Maybe, just maybe, its not the answer to the problem that is to be sought but the purpose for the problem itself.

Gratitude is truly where we will find contentment and peace. I would even go so far as to say that we can be grateful not only in our problems (trials) but for them.

What if in those difficult moments of staring at our unrelenting unsolved problems instead  we stop and look at  them as blessings; lessons that become the trajectory in which we are meant to walk and perhaps even RUN? Whether it be a health issue or a relational issue or a financial issue, no matter what our individual problem may be maybe, just maybe, the goal should not be to "solve" it but to accept it. . . as a gift?

Perhaps having our eyes opened is truly about recognizing the beauty- even in the ugly- and be grateful, knowing that even the ugly is part of the greater (more lovely) picture for our lives. Perhaps the actual cure begins not when all is right, but when we pray, "All right and Thank you." Could that be the moment when we truly begin the journey toward the rich and amazing purpose God has for us~
The purpose that fulfills the deepest desires of our heart because He is able to use us in ways we'd otherwise never dream?

True Confessions

Those of us who call ourselves believers would never desire to be called Idol Worshipers, for there is only ONE we are called to Worship. And if we know and love that One, we LONG to worship Him. Inside each of us there is a God shaped hole and we long to have it filled. But in our world full of distractions, often times we find ourselves trying to fill those longings elsewhere. Often times we run through our busy schedule ignoring that gentle voice which is calling to us, "Come back and I will fill you and give you peace." As a "recovering" perfectionist, I find sanity comes back to me when I stop and take inventory of whom or what I have been serving lately. Often times, I find my heart has been bowed down to other things rather than my First Love, God. His heart longs to fill me up, to spend time with me, for He delights in his Children. When I bask in his presence, there is peace like no other and the longings fade away.
"I don't serve idols," you may say. And I would ask you, "What or Whom have you been serving lately?" Are you caught up in pressing deadlines, striving for just the perfect reaction from your co-workers or boss? Are you trying to create the best product/service on the market? Are you striving to have a perfect physique? Are you striving to have that dream car, dream house, dream vacation? How about finding the perfect spouse, or any spouse for that matter? Or have you been like me, striving to get that window picture perfect and missing the sun for the streaks?
It is in our striving that we can lose focus and become slaves to the thing for which we are striving. They become our master, our god. The things we find ourselves caught up in, bowing down to, we are actually serving. And so I ask you again, "What or whom are you serving today? Are you truly trying to live a life of excellence "Unto the Lord" or are you bowing to Idols, hoping somehow they will fill you?" Perfectionism is nothing more than Idol Worship. Hello, my name is Lori and I am an Idol Worshiper. Not proud, but honest. Daily I MUST surrender my agenda and my will to the Lord or I will most definitely fall prey to those idols once again. How about you, do you find yourself bowing to idols? If so, I say call out to the one, the true God and ask him to fill those longings like only He can and surrender it ALL to him and He will give you peace.
"I will have no other gods before me. You shall not make for yourselves an idol in the form of anything in heaven or on the earth beneath or in the waters below." ~ God
Exodus 20: 3 & 4

Enjoy the Sun

                                                                         

I woke this morning far earlier than anyone should on a Saturday. Once I made my way into the kitchen and began straightening up from last night's late dinner once again I noticed the east sun shining through the sliding glass door. I never can seem to rid it of the smudges and streaks no matter how hard I try. And as usual the sun highlighted all the imperfections. I felt the aggravation begin to rise as the perfectionist deep within me began to rear her ugly head. I've often said, "The light exposes all the darkness." (In my case smudges) And I've often thought about the symbolism in that for us spiritually. This morning a new thought popped into my head. "Your missing the beauty of the sun by gazing at the smudges." Hmm. A great reminder from the Lord, I'm sure. We do not have to gaze at our imperfection because He became our perfection. We simply can enjoy the Son. I grabbed my cup of tea and stepped outside to listen to birds and enjoy the fresh air. Ironically, once on the other side of that glass door, out in the sunshine, the window was pristine! Not one smudge showing! Like a crystal clear lake reflecting the sun. As a recovering perfectionist, I love it when God gently reminds me of his simple, yet amazing truth;that in Him we are made perfect. Have a great day today and enjoy the light.

A Gentle Spirit In the midst of Chaos

                                                                              

Galatians 5:22-23

22 "But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, 23 gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law."

When I read these verses I find so much 'meat' in them for believers. So often people think they must overcome the flesh in order to live by the Spirit. But actually they have it backwards, we must live by the Spirit in order to overcome our flesh. I see the above verses in this way:
When we truly understand the "Love" of God for us and who we are IN Him, we can have a great "joy" knowing that we can rest in His love. And in this understanding of his love and through the joy, we experience "peace" (that goes beyond all understanding); and even in the midst of  chaos we can have peace. That peace allows us to wait on God in all our circumstances, and out of this flows "patience". When we are patiently waiting on God and loving others with the heart of patience, we are responding to those around us though "Kindness". When we respond to others though his kindness we show others his goodness. Its also by his "goodness" that we are able to see the good even in the most difficult of times, for there is grace even when our world is turning upside down. When we can see with the eyes of God, who is good, we become more "faithful"- knowing He is in control, he is good and we can respond to our difficulties and challenges with a "gentleness" that is the fragrance of God. In that gentle reaction to all things, we learn even greater "self control." So while our world is crumbling and my knees (flesh) want to shake because of it, I will choose to rest in the Love of God, waiting on him to work in and through me; producing the above fruit that I otherwise could not do on my own. So Christians, what sets us apart from the world? We must not wring our hands at all that is going one, but instead lift them in Holy praise. When others look at us, will they find us scrambling and scared or will they see in our gentleness that shines through quiet faith? Let us always point the way to the Father and not give power to the one who wants us running in fear. If we are to be a glorious fragrance for our King, let us draw into his Spirit and rest in his love. Let's wear out the knees of our pants and be ready to give account of the great HOPE we have in Christ through a quiet gentle Spirit that is grounded in his love.

Ripples

                                                                               (Google Image)

This morning I was having a difficult moment. We've all had them from time to time, right? I was feeling a bit discouraged about my purpose in life. I mean what exactly am I suppose to be doing right now? I'm not working, my kids are grown, and keeping house has lost its appeal. You'd think at almost 50 I'd know by now how to find my niche. Then I began to wonder how much of a difference I have made on this huge planet; have I simply been a taker rather than a giver? Have I have been obedient to the call of the Lord or simply gone my own way? Has my life made an impact or am I simply camouflaged in this world? Do the daily activities I walk through make a difference? And so, I began to pour out my most vulnerable thoughts and feelings to the Lord. In a way that only He can, he gave a sweet answer, that I trust is for all believers. He revealed that some are created for Great things, while others for Simple things. Yet both are of the same value to Him. Why? Because we have the Father's touch; and though we may not see how he has chosen to use us, we can rest knowing that our lives do have an impact. For some his purpose may be one humble act that is like a ripple gently flowing into a might wave. When discouragement comes our way, we can remember that sometimes its the humble things that have the greatest impact. So I may not be a missionary in Africa, or on the front lines fighting world hunger or other important causes, but I can rest knowing that He does indeed have a plan for each of us and I can trust him to direct me on the path he has carved out for me. As we listen to his gentle voice guiding us, we may never know how our obedience through faith can change the course of history, one simple act at a time.

Watermelon Slices and a Whiffle-ball Game

                                                   

When I was a small girl, the world was very exciting and frightening. Like many children, I was full of energy and imagination. The world was my stage.  At the beginning nothing was unreachable for me. I loved drama and excitement, and I could see the extraordinary in the simplest of things.  There were times that I believed the world had a place waiting just for me. Yes, I will admit, I was a dreamer, and I could not wait to conquer those dreams one at a time. Yet, to those around me, I was a skinny rowdy little girl. I loved climbing trees as much as playing with dolls, exploring the woods and walking the corn fields. Life was to be lived big, but I was forever reminded of how small I was. Looking back, I can see that I was desperate for attention and complete acceptance. What I did not know was that I already had it. And while I would go through some difficult moments in my life, the Lord had a plan for those moments, a plan that is still to be continued.

I was “who I was,”, and I often wondered why it was so hard for those around me to accept me, to love me, to actually enjoy me.  Still, I believed that somehow in some way I had to be special, created for a wonderful purpose; just what it was I did not know.  I think every child feels that way when they are small, having no inhibitions, full of hope and promise. And make no mistake about it, God makes no mistakes, we are each unique and special in our own way. Sadly, we lose sight of that when others around us teach us differently, and I had some great teachers.

I lived with my mother, sister and step- dad and spent most of my time in my bedroom playing with my dolls and imagining being on a grand stage somewhere.  Every evening, around dinner time, I could feel the tension rise as tempers escalated on the floor below. Sometimes I could even hear chairs being thrown and glass breaking. Often I would try to intervene but to no avail. I would be glared at by both of my parents and sent back to my room where I was left for hours to entertain myself and create my own safe haven for the dog and I. The demon of alcohol ruled our home, and I was its youngest victim. My sister was much older and many nights she was able to find her own refuge with her friends away from the chaos. Yet, even though I did not know it, God was with me. It was he who helped me to hold on to life when the depression and hopelessness began to rise within me.

It has taken me time but I have learned to forgive my parents for the dysfunction and the abuse I received while growing up. I now have a greater understanding of their pain and weaknesses.  Each one had their own demons they were battling in some form or another. One thing I have learned over the years is that our experiences determine much of our perception about the life around us. If we have experienced much pain we can become skewed, bitter, angry, made to feel like a victim, and walled off. We can judge life and others according to the place and the intensity of our pain; OR we can allow our wounds to be healed, our minds to be transformed and our hearts to forgive. Only WE can make the choice of which mindset we will carry and what reality will be ours. I have chosen to forgive and to love.

 When I was three years old, my mother, whom I adored, remarried a man ten years younger and she spent much of her remaining life trying to make that marriage work. In a way she was stuck. She had no work skills and could not support my sister and me.  My step-father, whom I called, Dad, had taken on a huge deal of responsibility when he agreed to care for us girls.  He was young and just starting out in his career. He wanted success and became part of an elite circle in the Banking world.  Part of his “duties” was to wine and dine clients, which he knew far too well. Both he and my mother made many poor choices and it took a toll on our family life. The loneliness I felt was overwhelming at times and I am sad to admit  but sometimes death looked like the only way out, and then God sent an angel.

During the summer of 1971 in rural area outside of Springfield IL, a loving angel showed up. Though she was not adorned with feathers, she became an angel to me. Her name was Cathy. She and her family moved into the house across the road from us. Cathy was a young mom with lots of spunk and a great laugh. There was always a twinkle in her eye and a kind word on her lips. Her boys, Brad and Jeff were rowdy and loved the outdoors. Her husband, Kingsley, was tall and handsome and resembled my own biological father whom I had grown to miss deeply.

The first time I saw Kingsley, I must have been a sight.  I was small, skinny and had long blonde hair that always fell into my eyes.  I squinted up and studied his strong features. Unaware of how it might sound I said, “You look just like my ‘real’ daddy.” Cathy looked at Kingsley and back at me. She smiled and asked about my father. I explained he lived several hours away and I got to see him once or twice a year. It was not long before she shared that she wished she had a daughter of her own, and how she loved my long blonde hair. She came over and fixed my barrette and put her arm around my shoulder. Cathy bent down and pointed across the way to a watermelon which sat on top of a cooler in front of her garage. It was far too big to fit inside the metal box. She asked me if I would like to come over later for a slice or two. I accepted politely (hoping it would be okay) and ran home, excited to have made some new friends.

The thick evening air was beginning to cool as the sun went down.  I skipped barefoot across the hot country road to their house.  Afraid to knock, I sat on their back step trying to be quiet. It was not long before the boys came out and we began to play. Soon Kingsley and Cathy came outside with plates and a knife. To the average eye there was nothing magical about that moment.  But I could see it. We sat around the picnic table laughing and sharing stories and enjoying the sweet taste of the sweetest watermelon ever. I even learned the art of spitting seeds.  The laughter of the boys as they aimed and fired was contagious. For the first time in a long time I felt at home. I could actually breathe freely. Though we did not know it a the time, it was God's invitation that I had accepted.

Afterward they began to play Whiffle-ball. I  never had played the game before then and was a bit shy. No, I was a lot shy, and much too scared to try something new; afraid of failure and condemnation. You see, at home the tension was so thick that it was like walking on eggshells. I never knew when the next blow would come by something I said or did. These blows were not physical ones.  But to me the blows I received were much more painful. They were blows to my spirit.  Step by step they began to crush my soul. The sad truth is that when there is emotional abuse, the scars are hidden deep inside and very seldom recognized by others.  And often children learn how to smile through the pain. But if you look closely you can see down into the sadness of their soul. Thankfully my tears did not fall in vain; they were all part of God’s greater purpose.

Apparently, Cathy could see the fear in my eyes at the invitation to play Whiffle-ball and she encouraged me to play. She showed me how to hold the bat and swing at the ball; her gentle arms wrapped around mine as she bent down to help me make my first hit. At first the boys laughed and I wanted to quit, but she encouraged me to not give up. Soon, I had the hang of it; and before long we had games going a couple times a week. I remember thinking how great it was that Cathy was actually out there playing with us. My mother did not play much sports other than an occasional game of golf. I could see the spark in my mother’s eyes had begun to dull also. She did her best to keep life as normal as possible for us girls,  but just as spoken words has hurt me they too had left her wounded. So to be with Cathy, Kingsley and the boys,  was a slice of heaven. Soon I was invited to help make homemade ice-cream and sleepovers at their house. Cathy loved to fix my hair, though at nine years old, I didn’t care much about hairstyles. The boys and I laughed and fought like siblings. We shared in mischief and laughter; and even tears as we said good-bye to their beloved dog who was hit by a car.

One of my favorite memories I have of them is driving in the evening just a short distance from the house to the “crick” as they called it, and having campfires and roasting marshmallows. We would sit around and tell spooky stories. I'd be scared to death while the boys laughed knowing their tales weren't real.  Life became so simple, innocent and fun during those times. In a way I had become a part of their family.  And although Cathy had tried many times to befriend my mom and dad, they chose to stay simply neighbors. Cathy and Kingsley were different from my folks.  They were a different period.

After a short time, Kingsley was given a position in Southern Illinois.  I was so sad and wished they would stay.  Before they moved, after their many invitations, I finally agreed to go to church with them; the 'final frontier' to be explored.  It was years later before I understood that Cathy and Kingsley simply saw me with the eyes of Jesus, unconditionally loved and accepted. Cathy’s arms that had wrapped around me that first day were an extension of the arms of her Lord. The feast of the watermelon is like the feast that Christ offers us each day, a feast of love and peace; of fullness and joy. In the smallest of ways that family simply loved on a small scared broken little girl. But to her, it meant the world.  I honestly do not know if they even realize the impact they left on me. Through their simplest acts of love they changed my life forever, they gave me hope. They touched my heart.

I can look over the course of my life and see God’s thumbprints all along the way. And though other’s words may have cursed me, it is Word that heals me. It heals others.  His presence has been with me each step of the way; even in the darkest of times when I decided to go my own way and rebel against his great love for me; and his call to forgive others. Forgiveness is the key to freedom. Freedom allows us to live life Big, to love big, to hope big, to see big.

My journey has been difficult at times and forgiveness has been a process. But I can honestly say that I no longer hold hate in my heart for my parents. I love them and I forgive them.  The Lord has never given up on me because he sits not only here with us but he also sits on the other side of un-forgiveness and knows what power love holds. It is in Him where we find the greatest purpose of all, love.

The seeds of love that have been planted in my life have created a new heart in me. Nothing is ever wasted. Nothing.  There have been several angels along my path, each one touching me with a simple and yet profound love.  It is through the love of Jesus, which we can find healing from our wounds, freedom from our shame and a hope for our future.

I pray that with the remainder of time I have left here the Lord will use me to touch the lives of others the same way the Bennetts have touched mine, even among the simplest of things, like watermelon slices and a whiffle-ball game.