Unfolding

Saturday. Reflection day.

Sun tickled eyes awake this morning and, after a long week of gray skies, it was much needed medicine.

Everything seems clearer today.

As I look back on these days with faith-filled eyes, gratitude overwhelms. He showers endless gifts.

We have made the most of this time together, and I am thankful for this “pushing through” that He urged me to do in the midst of this melancholy. My arms are open wide to receive these blessings.

He was there.

These moments…

These moments we will hold close to our hearts in the bleak days that visit us in the future.

He has taught me (once again) not to trust my feelings. That He is there, even when I do not perceive Him. Though I have felt alone in the past few days, I held fast to what I know is true.

He is here.

These moments of solitude should not be feared; though even in embracing them, I still do.

Fear, that is.

He sends me this to strengthen:

“Yet faith tells me that this solitude is not real, that in our aloneness we come from God, are in God, are on the way to God. Further, that we shall one day be one with the one God, so sharing his solitude. Yet, that same faith assures us that God’s solitude is a community of love. So what looks lone turns out not to be.

“Which is why solitude is so good. By means of entering into it, you discover it’s not like you were told. It is not lonely in that way. It is lonely, but when you live with it for a while, it turns on you, it opens up, it unfolds.”—Matthew Kelty, Flute Solo

Today, it is unfolding, friends. Like the petals of a flower in this warm sun shining through my window. Bleakness is lifting and blue skies smile down.

Have a beautiful day, sweet ones. You bless me so.

Thanks you, sweet friends, for your kind words and encouragement. You love humbles me and leads me to Him.

Winged Reminder

I must have heard it in my sleep.

When I open my eyes, I am not sure.

Perhaps it was only the whistling of the cold air return.

I rise slowly, straining ears to hear.

Nothing.

Quietly, I float downstairs and gaze out the French doors onto the meadow. Press my forehead against the cold glass.

The grasses are covered in heavy white, trees embraced by a coating of ice. A smattering of ice petals falls from the sky.

I must have been dreaming. He wouldn’t be in the middle of this. I have never heard him this deep into winter.

Nevertheless, I hear him now.

The lilting song of the Meadowlark drifts over white stillness, falling on these ears and this heart.

I search the ice encrusted branches, scan frozen grass sculptures. But I do not see his yellow breast.

Am I hearing things?

He sings his song repeatedly, as if to say, “Here! I am here!”

These weak eyes cannot find him, but these ears hungrily consume.

In the middle of this bleak winter--when I cannot see Him—He is here.

Discouragement has been my companion of late. My heart heavy with tasks undone. I feel His promises, but remain helpless to keep my part. I watch as opportunities pass.

He argues with me. I argue back.

It is too hard, I say to Him.

I did not say it would be easy, He responds.

Gently, He reminds me of Paul—the hard work he did. And reads to me the stories of others who gave much--who gave up much.

And too, He whispers of the work of the Cross.

My shame is deep as the snow that hides my Meadowlark.

It is not His desire to shame me, and He attends to me tenderly.

I would stay here forever, wrapped in His arms. But He reminds me there is work that needs doing.

I will gladly do it for Him. I only needed reminded that He is the reason.

He is the reason I do this work.

This work of life.

This work of love.

Of living and breathing and cooking and cleaning and…

Writing.

He is all the reason I need.

Speaking Truth

Today we discuss chapter four in our Yes to God Bible study with Lelia:

Speaking Truth to Your Issues.






This chapter title booms.

It defines a longing.

It lays bare a need.

This soul is parched and hungering for it:

Truth.

Such beauty in this simple word.

On page 47, Jennifer Rothschild says, “We find ourselves with one defining circumstance in our lives that becomes the headwaters from which many other issues originate and flow.”

And how.

My father’s alcoholism.

My parents’ divorce.

Poverty.

Family discord/dysfunction.

Growing up in an unorthodox faith.

All of these have shaped the way that I talk to myself.

All of these were fertile ground for lies to grow in.

Jennifer describes soul talk as “faith’s companion”. On page 49 she says, “…it’s essential that we center our soul talk on the truth of Scripture and on our faith in Christ. This will enable us to put positive, hopeful impressions in our thought closets.”

Jennifer says we need “Spirit-controlled thoughts”.

She describes four roles of the Holy Spirit in our lives:

1. To counsel us
2. To represent Christ to us
3. To be our teacher
4. To remind us of truth

Throughout this chapter, Jennifer illustrates her points using the story of the woman with the flow of blood.

She had tried everything. She had been unsuccessfully treated by numerous doctors. She had spent all of her resources.

She was empty and broken.

Yet, this woman had the courage to do something amazing. She spoke the truth to herself.

“If only I can touch His coat, I will get well.”

She reached out, with probably her last hope, and she touched Jesus.

You and I can do the same.

Let us not forget that this is where we must go for healing--at His feet.

****************************************************************


Do you love poetry? Try the great poem caper! Visit L.L. Barkat and become inspired. You can read my poem in her comment section.


Here's something a little fun. If you want to play the letter game, visit Liz! Liz gave me the letter "R". My task is to list ten things that begin with the letter "R" that I love. Here goes:

1. Rain--If you don't believe me, read this.
2. Running--It sets me free and is one of my times to connect with Him.
3. Rocking a baby--'Nuff said.
4. Reading--Oh, yeah.
5. Returning home after being gone--Nothing so sweet.
6. Rest--I think we should implement the mandatory afternoon nap in this country.
7. Risings--From bread, to the sun, to our wonderful Lord--nothing lifts my soul higher.
8. Random acts of kindness--Give me a burst of joy.
9. Reflections of light on water--simply beautiful.
10. Romping with my boys.

Simple Joys

White covers ground outside; air outside sends chill with deep reach.

What remedy?

Something warm and sweet.

We start the fire and stare into glowing embers.

Dancing flames invite our eyes, and something else…



This fluffy white goodness dips her toes in until she drips with gooey sweet.





Melting chocolate melts in mouth and,



Ahhh.

This warms from inside out.

And these smiles warm me, as we sit and rub shoulders in yellow light that basks in freckles and sticky grins.



There is something about a fire.

Hearts open like petals in the sun, words fall soft and tender, thoughts flow like melting chocolate…

And we prepare to hear more of the Great Story. The one that wraps our story within, writing life.

Living Story

These words are alive and each time they are read our story is weaved deeper into His story. New life is breathed into their meaning.

They’ve heard this story before.

This story of two brothers.

“Your brother’s blood cries out to me from the ground…”

I watch.

The tale of this first murder gives them pause.

These two brothers who have known anger, jealousy, and rivalry with each other…

These two brothers struggle to understand.

“Why did he kill him?”

Youngest son wonders aloud.

“Did he really think God didn’t know?”

The questions come.

We talk about the heart. And how we cannot hide from God.

Later, Jeffrey still struggles.

“It doesn’t make sense.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why did God have to do everything the hard way? Why did Jesus have to die? Couldn’t He just tell us about Himself?”

I put down the dishcloth.

Sit down across from these questioning eyes.

Pause to give these words the pregnancy they deserve.

“I don’t know why God does the things He does. I trust Him enough to know there is a reason. Sometimes we have to learn the hard way. Sometimes we don’t understand. I believe He leaves us with questions so we will have to trust. That’s what faith is about.”

“You mean, He wants us to wonder?”

“I think so.”

This small, delicate brow wrinkles.

“The Bible sure is filled with mysteries.”

Yes, my dear, it is.

And the story goes on…

Birth of a Friendship

Our Teddy goes to sleep tonight an eleven year-old and will wake up tomorrow another year older.

I catch my breath when I realize how dangerously close we are to having a teenager under this roof.

But he’ll always be that freckled-faced carrot-topped sweet boy to his mamma. When I look in his face I still see the remnants of that little thumb-sucking toddler that changed our life forever.

He redefined love for us.

He taught us the meaning of true joy.

There have been so many firsts with this amazing kid, and, God willing, we will negotiate many more. But my favorite role that our firstborn has found his way through is that of big brother.

At 14 months, Teddy was our pride and joy. So when we found out we were expecting again, much fear and anxiety mingled with our excitement. I remember feeling a little sad that my attention would soon have to be divided. I distinctly remember wondering, “How can I love another child as much as this precious one?”

As we prepared our little boy for a new sibling, our hearts were being prepared as well. Our boys’ birthdays would be almost exactly two years apart. Life would never be the same.

We read book after book, trying desperately to prepare our young son for the emotional adjustments of a new baby. We moved him into his “big boy” bed early on in my pregnancy, so that he wouldn’t feel the baby had stolen his crib. We increased his “dad time” so he wouldn’t feel slighted so much by the amount of time mom would need to devote to the baby. We showed him ultrasound pictures and read stories about what it means to be a big brother. We even included him in our discussions about names for the baby. His suggestions were always interesting (“How ‘bout…Popsicle?”)

But perhaps one of the best things that happened in preparation did not come from a book or a magazine.

As the baby grew inside of me, I began to have conversations with him (for we did know by that time that we were having another boy). I played music for him and sang him songs.

As our little Teddy observed my interactions with his unborn brother, he began to imitate.

Teddy loved talking to his little brother. He shared many things with “Little Jeffy”.

Often, he would press his little ear up to my rounded belly and listen intently for any noise that would prove that there really was a little brother in there.

I imagined Jeffrey with his ear pressed up against the confines of my womb, listening to Teddy’s voice, just as Teddy listened for him from the outside. Then, my toddler would press his tiny lips against my swollen abdomen--all chubby cheeks and upturned nose--and speak loudly, his voice echoing into my body through walls of flesh and blood, traveling this journey to fall on that tiny ear that was still learning to make sense of sounds that traveled its way.

He told his unborn brother many things, like how to play ball, and cars and trucks, what his favorite foods and cartoons were, and all about his pet dog.

But one of his favorite things to say was simply, “Little Jeffy, come out of mommy’s belly!” He gave this command so assertively, that I often feared his brother would comply, sending me into an early labor.

It wasn’t long before he would change his mind about this, however.

Jeffrey was born after thirteen hours of labor. The moment I held him in my arms, all of my fears about loving him enough immediately disappeared. My friends had told me that this would happen, that our capacity to love increases exponentially with the birth of each child. But this was difficult to understand until I looked at that little face, yet still had an ache inside of me that was the absence of my Teddy.

I needed both of my children with me to feel whole.

Finally, Teddy came to the hospital to meet his little brother. We put him on the middle of the bed and gingerly placed Little Jeffrey beside him. Teddy cringed away from his brother and, taking one look at the wrinkly, squirmy infant said what would be his first face to face words to his little brother: “Little Jeffy, go back in mommy’s belly!”

When we finally made it home and got settled in, I’ll never forget another of Teddy’s lines to his little brother: “Little Jeffy, go back to the hospital!”

We never sent Little Jeffy back to the hospital, and Teddy eventually adjusted to having a little brother. In fact, today my boys are best friends. They do everything together. From day one, his older brother’s voice captivated my youngest son. Remnants of those pre-birth chats, no doubt. As I watch their relationship grow and mature, it gives me great joy to know that the start of their friendship began before Jeffrey even entered this world. I know that they will carry this bond with them throughout their lives.

The birth of an incredible friendship. That is what we celebrate this week, my friends.

Thanks for indulging. God is good.

Seeking Wisdom

I have spent the morning looking up and meditating on the scriptures on wisdom from Proverbs that Jennifer Rothschild cites in our Bible study: Self Talk, Soul Talk. I’m a day behind in my post, but I am thankful for this morning to really spend some time in these scriptures.

Please visit Lelia to read more thoughts from our online study.

Chapter three is entitled Choosing Wise Words.

In this chapter, Jennifer talks about the “fruit” and the “root” of our thoughts. If our thoughts stem from faulty assumptions, then they will be faulty. Destructive self-talk can usually be traced back to a faulty foundation.

Jennifer gives some great strategies for undergoing a “root” transplant, including a very helpful interview with Patsy Clairmont in which this woman of faith outlines the steps she takes to combat her own negative self-talk.

But it was Jennifer’s comments on seeking wisdom that really got my attention.

First she says, we must ask God for wisdom. We should also fear, or revere the Lord, which Proverbs tells us is “the beginning of wisdom”. Also, we must be willing to receive counsel from others.

I love what Patsy told Jennifer when discussing this issue: “…I had so many people saying things to me that were in conflict with what I was saying to myself. One of us had to be wrong!”

Listening to the counsel of others can be a valuable tool in this wrestling match.

I’m still rolling around on the ground with these thoughts, my friends; seeking to pull them up by the roots. It feels like one step up and two steps back, but God is faithful and I trust Him to finish this work He has begun in me.

Thanks for standing ringside and cheering me along. I’m praying for you, my fellow wrestlers.

Love,
laura

Inspiration

I ate my lunch standing up today.

It was standing room only in the Charleston Area Med. Center’s staff lounge at noontime. We huddled together to watch the inauguration of our 44th president—bodies pressed side-by-side in anticipation.

Hunger permeated the air.

It filled our insides; spoke to our hearts as we waited for this filling up. We breathed it in, letting our insides quake with the emptiness of these long years.

Today, we feast.

I plucked my grapes off their stems one by one, aware of that sweet tangy combination as I bit into each one, rolling the fleshy fruit around on my tongue—trying to hide my misting eyes from co-workers.

Is it wrong to let a man inspire?

Do I not do this every day when I see the beauty behind the eyes of my neighbor?

Only One Man holds my undying hope. Fully man. Fully God.

But it is God inside of me that appreciates His glory reflected in the eyes of another.

How long has it been since speech ignited fire in the bellies of my national kinsman? Of the world?

Do I not know the power of words? Have I not been seduced by their syrupy promises and the lofty images they create?

These words capture me and make my spirit soar.

We study the profiles of listening faces across the nation—black, white--every color in between; beauty and sorrow, grace and unease, joy, triumph, sobriety and fear…there is no end to the diversity on these ghost-faces.

Beauty, beauty, beauty…

So much beauty in my Father’s world.

Be inspired…

Let something, let someone inspire you today.

We carry God inside of us.

Let Him shine.

Celebration

I wrote this late last night, dear ones, and wanted to share...

I can hear the children playing upstairs, remnants of our party. Most have gone home, returned to their own nests.

This afternoon we celebrated Jeffrey’s birthday with a handful of ten year-olds and close friends. We spent the morning watching home movies of his birth and earliest days--as is our tradition this time of year.




I sit here tonight amazed that we’ve made it this far…that so much has passed through the portal of time.

I am realizing that my hands are a sieve, trying to hold these moments as they keep sliding on through.

These slippery things—they get away from me.

Watching that chubby-cheeked, chubby-legged, big-eyed baby boy this morning made that achingly clear.

I never knew he would be so special back then.

I knew I loved him.

I knew I would always love him.

I knew I would give my life for him.

But I never knew the special boy that he would become.

I never knew that he would teach me so much…

About love…

About freedom…

About growing...

About prayer…

About God.

I look into these big blue eyes…I gaze upon this sleeping face…

and my heart feels fragile,

it’s breaking with this knowing that

these moments will never be mine again.

And so I know

that now

is what we are given

to feel this love.

Eternity is written in our hearts,

But for now

We must make every minute count.

Sheltering In

Friends, we are sheltered in today.

School is closed today due to the frigid temperatures, and I am feeling…

thwarted once again.

God just loves to change my plans. I, on the other hand, am not quite so flexible.

I cannot work properly on my novel with these freckled noses peeping over my shoulder.

We have two birthdays next week, and the celebration for the first is tomorrow. I was rather counting on my free Friday to get better prepared.

No matter, sticky fingers can help ready the home for friends. We will be tidying up, shopping, and making a cake later on today.

These boys are more cooperative when a party looms and there are bowls with sweet remnants for licking.

In the meantime, I’m exercising.

My writing, that is.

The amazingly gifted L.L. Barkat has challenged her blog readers to write a letter—in longhand, that is.

I have secretly followed L.L. ever since I read an interview with her over here at my sweet Ann’s—Beautiful Heart—about her book, Stone Crossings. (Which I am going to ask for from hubs for my 40^th, which seems to be approaching like a freight train).

These two ladies move deeply.

I was watching a songwriter’s special on Austin City Limits a while back. Guest included Lyle Lovett and John Hiatt—two of our all time faves. During the interview portion of the show, Lyle made a comment that if he wants to write good songs…if he is looking for inspiration, he listens to other good songwriters.

When I read LL and Ann, I am inspired!

Ms. Barkat is a wonderful writing teacher.

So…

The other night I experienced God in the yard and here is a letter I wrote about it that evening…

I saw you last night.

Wasting face looming down on me as I took Lucy Mae out for her nightly duty.

I could not help staring. Forgive me if I was rude…

Your beauty overwhelms.

It fell from the sky and spilled over my every day, my ordinary--making it something new.

If words are precious rubies, as Solomon says, then of what worth is this illuminating light you cast—these diamonds strewn on frost-kissed grass?

I am not this aging woman as I stand in this world of glassy light—but a babe seeing the night for the first time.

Oh! Moon!

I gasp in awareness of your Maker in your presence. Your ever-constant, ever-changing face changes me still. For I cannot remain unmoved when I look into such immense displays of His glory.

Dear Moon, I saw you last night.

And your beauty carried me away.

This Moment

We are a pause.

A resting place.

I stand on this ground, small and still, as they pass overhead; the rushing of their wings a roar.

And though I am bound to this earth, something inside lifts as I watch them soar.

Their passing pilgrimage blocks out the light of the sun momentarily, the sky filled with these mounting black bodies…

Dipping and weaving in and out of the clouds; soaring through heavens.

“My wedding!”

I hear her voice in my mind’s ear—this childhood best friend. Though we are separated by miles and busy-ness now, her voice is crisp and clear as the call of these birds. And she is with me in this holy moment.

To my delight, this body of birds—this mass of intertwining forms has become one—circles wide and one by one, this body loses members. They alight on naked branches, each a breathing still life against the winter white sky.

My breath wisps out in front of me, curling away from these gravity-bound lips.

The beauty of this tree of living baubles quiets me…stills this soul of searching.

And then they are gone, falling back into one…mounting mountains of sky and sailing these wing-ships.

It takes my breath away—this sudden rush of wings. The way the sky looks so empty at their departure.

I watch until they disappear, tiny specks on the horizon.

“My wedding,” I breathe the words up to Him.

This moment reminds me how I wait. How I am still waiting on my Bridegroom.

A New Creation

We are ready to begin the second chapter of our Yes to God Bible study with Lelia. This week's chapter of Jennifer Rothschild's book Self Talk, Soul Talk is entitled Renewing Your Thought Closet.

I have been so inspired by this week’s reading, friends. My, my, my—have I been cleaning the closet.

Late last week I read this:

“Take special care to guard your tongue

before the morning prayer.

Even greeting your fellowman, we are told,

can be harmful at that hour.

A person who wakes up in the morning is

like a new creation.

Begin your day with unkind words,

or even trivial matters--
even though you may later turn to prayer,

you have not been true to your Creation.

All of your words each day

are related to one another.

All of them are rooted

in the first words that you speak.”

---from Your Word Is Fire: The Hasidic Masters on Contemplative Prayer, edited and translated by Arthur Green and Barry W. Holtz as read by me in Space for God by Don Postema


I became determined to pay attention to the words I tell myself early in the morning. I wanted to be true to my Creation.

So yesterday morning, when alarm goes off--awakening me to sweet time with my Father…

What are the first words that pass through these lips?

“Oh, crap!” I uttered as I fumbled around in the dark, anxious that this premature morning call will awaken the other three sleeping members of my house.

As the words fell out, landing with a thud in the air around me—I froze.

Though no one else heard them but me, they sounded...ugly.

Is this the way I have been greeting the day the Lord has made?

Is this how I have risen to meet with Him?

How can my words breathe life into others when they fall like a boulder on my world first thing in the morning?

Jennifer refers to the writer of Proverbs and his wise words about the power of our speech.

Proverbs 3:13-15—“Happy is the man that findeth wisdom, and the man that getteth understanding. For the merchandise of it is better than the merchandise of silver, and the gain thereof than fine gold. She is more precious than rubies: and all the things thou canst desire are not to be compared unto her.”

Jennifer says, “I do believe Solomon is saying that truly wise and prudent speech is rare. When you hear it, you know it, and you marvel.

Did you realize that your words could have such an impact?”

I always try to measure my words when speaking to others. Why not to myself?

Jennifer adds, “Imagine being in a park and finding a filthy blouse over by the Dumpster. Could you ever see yourself picking it up, taking it home, and hanging it in your closet by your best little black dress?”

This word picture spoke volumes to me. In a sense, this is what I do when I allow destructive words into my thought closet.

I’m really working on holding these thoughts captive this week (and forever, I pray), dear ones. I hope you are too.

Jennifer readily admits that, “We probably never completely erase old memories, forget old thoughts, or wipe away former self talk. Those things are simply there, and depending on what we do with them, they add or subtract to the quality of our lives…You can’t remove those hurtful thoughts, words, and memories, but by the power of God, you can drain them of their potential control over you.”

A lifelong journey. But there is victory in Him.

I want my words to be more precious than rubies.

Still working on cleaning that closet…

New Shoes

My boys are hard on shoes, friends.

The other day, I looked down at Jeffrey’s feet, and this is what I saw.

The boy needed new shoes.

Not only were the things on his feet old and ratty looking, but his big toe was poking out on his right foot.

When I suggested we go get some new shoes after church, he got all bent out of shape.

But my old shoes are comfortable, mommy—says he.

How can these ratty ‘ol things be comfortable?—I wondered.

We set out to find some new shoes.

Kohl’s was having a sale (aren’t they always?) and we found this pair of cute running shoes that he was willing to try. They were a full size bigger than the old ones—the poor guy was literally bursting out of those old shoes.

These shoes seemed to satisfy my youngest son.

Until it came time to go to school this morning. Then, of course, he wanted to wear the old ones.

But these shoes are comfortable, mommy—says he.

As I helped wrestle him into his shiny new shoes, I told him about breaking them in, and getting used to how they feel.

I once again wondered how those old shoes could be comfortable.

Weren’t his toes cramped? Didn’t his feet get wet through the holes?

Didn’t he know that these would be much much better?

In the midst of my ponderings, I think I heard God clear His holy throat.

How often have I refused to wear my new shoes?

How many old behaviors do I cling to long after I’ve outgrown them?

Whether it’s changing the way that I speak, the way that I eat, the way that I spend my time…

Sometimes it’s just more comfortable to wear those old shoes.

God patiently wrestles me into the new ones, telling me about breaking them in and getting used to them.

He whispers in my ear, “Don’t you know this new way is so much better?”

I’m listening, Lord.

I don’t want to be cramped and exposed to harsh elements because I refuse to step out of my comfort zone, friends.

I’m trying on some new shoes. I’m breaking them in.

They’re starting to feel pretty good.

And there seems to be a new bounce in my step…I’m walking in the Light.

“This is the message we have heard from him and declare to you: God is light; in him there is no darkness at all. If we claim to have fellowship with him yet walk in the darkness, we lie and do not live by the truth. But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin.”—1 John 1:5-7

The Joy in a Yee-haw

Our Saturday is winding down.

Darkness has already fallen over our little neighborhood.

The weather here today has been fit for ducks, which makes me smile—after this post.

I do love the rain.

This morning, when I heard the thunder, I just smiled and smiled.

Then I curled up with my Lord for a while. It was so warm and cozy.

He knows.

Rain gives me permission to do what I love: write.

I made some progress on the revisions to my adult novel—the ones suggested by one of the editors I submitted to.

That felt good.

Still a lot of work to do there.

But…

I finished my second young adult novel in the Wings of Klaio series!!!!

Hoo-ray!

Celebrate with me, friends?

I printed it out, will do a final read through all at once, and then will send it off to my editor.

The boys and I and Lucy Mae went for a celebratory walk around the neighborhood. The rain was just misting, the clouds hanging low.

The beauty of a cloudy day is so tangible…the air so thick I want to hold it in my hands. I taste it in my breath, feel it flow inside of me.

I felt its joy.

Lightheartedness is contagious, and the boys soon caught it.

We ran through the neighborhood shouting, “Yee-haw! Derek’s Story is finished!”

Well, Jeffy and I did. Teddy pretended he didn’t know us, and Lucy Mae didn’t seem to care about anything except the fishy smell along the creek bank.

This yee-hawing reminded me of my grandpa. Sometimes--after my parents divorced--sometimes he would spend the night with us if he drank too much. The next morning he would always wake up before everyone, run through the house saying, “Yee-haw, it’s the rooster!” Until we were all awake and giggling.

That’s right. I come from a long line of intellectuals.

But, forgive me, I’m giddy tonight. If I was able to write full-time I wouldn’t be able to stand myself.

Join me in praising God tonight, friends. He loves a good celebration.

Love to you,

Laura

Pillow Talk

After the tucking in, I always return.

I’m looking to see if it has taken.

I fill my eyes with this sleeping son. Kneel before Him in awe of this gift.

Many times he teeters on the edge…

Between this waking world and that of the dreams.

Always at these times, his heart is open. He gives me sleepy words of love.

There is this from the other night:

“Mom, I never got to tell you how important you are in my life…that’s because I don’t have the words to describe it. It would take too long to tell you all the bests you are…I couldn’t live long enough to say all the bests you are. Even when I’m mad at you I know deep down in my heart that you are the best mommy in the world…”

I call it pillow talk. These sweet words youngest son utters to me in the dark. 

Eyes heavy with sleep…speech slightly weighted…

These sweet words linger. 

And while his heart is open this way, I too lift up words. Carry them gently from my mouth to heaven, and feel them drift into this open place—into this tender heart that now drifts between two worlds.

His pillow talk invites my pillow prayer.

And I wonder what words my Father lifts into my heart as my eyes drift into that sleeping land…

I know He never sleeps. (Psalm 121:4)

I know He sings over me. (Zep. 3:17)

I know his love is unfailing. (Psalm 36:7)

By day I try. Do my best to hide His Word in my heart. At night, does He tuck it in deeper?

He reaches down from heaven and touches me. Caresses my sleeping brow.

And I know that, truly, He is the best Father.

I cannot live long enough to say all the bests He is.

I don't have the words to describe it.

Dancing with God

"...Water is always an invitation to immersion [for me], an immersion with a quality of totality, since it would accept all of me, as I am. Some primal urge invites me to return whence I came.

At times I have done so. There is some special delight in simply walking into a stream, stepping into a lake. The child’s delight in a puddle is my adult’s in the sea…

No rain falls that I do not at once hear in the sound of the falling water an invitation to come to the wedding. It is rare that I do not answer. A walk in an evening rain in any setting is to walk in the midst of God’s loving attention to his earth, and, like a baptism, is no simple washing, but a communication of life. When you hurry in out of the rain, I hurry out into it, for it is a sign that all is well, that God loves, that good is to follow. If suffering a doubt, I find myself looking to rain as a good omen. And in rain, I always hear singing, wordless chant rising and falling.

When rain turns to ice and snow I declare a holiday. I could as easily resist as stay at a desk with a parade going by in the street below. I cannot hide the delight that then possesses my heart. Only God could have surprised rain with such a change of dress as ice and snow…

Most people love rain, water. Snow charms all young hearts. Only when you get older and bones begin to feel dampness, when snow becomes a traffic problem and a burden in the driveway, when wet means dirt—then the poetry takes flight and God’s love play is not noted.

But I am still a child and have no desire to take on the ways of death. I shall continue to heed water’s invitation, the call of the rain. We are in love and lovers are a little mad.”

---Matthew Kelty, Flute Solo, Reflections of a Trappist Hermit

I awaken this morning once again to soft patter of rainfall on the roof. It has been raining here for several days. The moisture in the air creates a white cloak over the mountains--misty air like the breath of God...

I arise and move to window. Stare out at the glistening streets, lights reflected in the glassy surfaces of this place where I live.

It stirs me.

Beckons.

His breath touches me in this moisture settling on my skin.

This gentle thrumming rain soothes...gives comfort in this bleak winter day.

I move to this rhythm. Hear the "singing" in her voice. Folding laundry, cleaning our space; pausing frequently to gaze out at life falling from sky.

The "change of dress" occurs mid-day as temperatures drop throughout. My eyes feast on falling snow.

Ah, sweet baptism.

Lucy Mae and I step out, let these bits of His love shower over.

And I feel like dancing...spinning...twirling in this joy falling down.

All of nature moves in step with the beat that He measures. His hand keeps perfect time.

—then the poetry takes flight and God’s love play is not noted.

Let me see it, Father. Let me see your love play in all things.

Time for Soul Talk

“The mind is its own place and in itself, can make Heaven of Hell, and a Hell of Heaven.”—John Milton, as quoted by Jennifer Rothschild.

My mind has done both, dear friends.

This is the focus of our new online Bible study: Self Talk, Soul Talk, by Jennifer Rothschild. Head on over to my sweet friend Lelia’s blog to learn more about how you can participate in this study.

As a clinical psychologist, I have counseled countless people about this very issue.

Self-talk.

As Jennifer says in her introduction, “…our self talk, soul talk is powerful. The words we say go straight to the core of our being. They shape the way we think about ourselves. They influence our emotions, our thoughts, and our decisions. They resurface in our conversations with other people. They can spur us on to live meaningful, productive lives, or they can drag us down to lethargy and despair.”

I love how Jennifer makes that connection: the things we say to ourselves bore deep into our souls, shaping our very being.

The way I see myself makes a difference in who I become. Because I am always becoming—the work is not done yet.

Jennifer refers to those thoughts that unwittingly spring forward as coming from a “thought closet”:

“I seem to have a secret closet tucked somewhere in the hallways of my mind. A thought closet. And what I had been storing in that closet wasn’t good at all: shelves and racks and bins full of hidden thoughts, secret insecurities, lies, illusions, and reminders of former failures…Without my consent, my mind keeps reaching into the dark corners of that closet to retrieve the troublesome contents I have inadvertently stored away over the years…”

What’s in your thought closet?

This question is worthy of exploration. The Bible tells us to take captive every thought.

Jennifer states, “My faith has led me to the Bible to find what to say to my soul. And speaking the truths I’ve found in the pages of Scripture has turned my thought closet from a prison into an oasis of freedom!”

Isn't this where we should all turn to find the truth to speak to our souls?

I am excited to dig into this study. Honestly, I do a lot better than I used to in taking my thoughts captive. As I grow in my relationship with Christ, it becomes easier to see myself as He does.

But there are still many times in my life when this old enemy trips me up. Insecurity, anxiety, fear of man, shame. This peace is most certainly like a river—it ebbs and flows.

I can always use more tools to help get me through a difficult season. I am looking forward to this journey with you, my bloggy friends!

Let’s have some soul talk!

A New Day

It’s been a quiet day.

After a noisy, festive ringing in of the New Year last night, the quiet is welcome.

We took down our New Year’s tree and put away the rest of the Christmas decorations.

We stayed in our pajamas until noon.

It is beautiful.

I just took Lucy Mae out for her final New Year’s Day wee, and when I looked up into the night sky…I noticed that the stars are cloaked by a gauzy white.

Wisps of cloud trail off in the smoky blue of the midnight sky, like a long train on a beautiful white gown.

The sky is dressed in her wedding garb tonight.

As I gaze up at that misty beauty, I am reminded that I, too, am a bride.

I still wait for my Bridegroom.

When I look up, that anticipation fills my heart. My soul begins to dance and joy sings inside.

I can’t think of a more fitting way to begin a new year.

As I am reminded to keep myself ready for my Love…I work on my spiritual vision. I let gratitude permeate. I invite joy.

Tomorrow I will go to honor a dear one of God who has passed on into His presence. As I contemplate this dear woman’s last days, I meditate on my current ones.

How do I wait?

Will I run this race to the end?

I do not want to ever stop growing, learning, searching…

This waiting is not a passive thing.

Do not let it be.

Dear ones, we are not finished doing this thing until we stand before Him.

And then…

Who knows?

But while I am here, let it be said that I waited well.

This is my prayer—that He will not let me be. That I will never be able to ignore His call. That I will always be about His business. Let me never rest until I rest in peace.

O God! Hear my cry. Use me. Make me uncomfortable with comfort. Stretch me. Grow me. Teach me. Always, always, let me feel You, Lord. For I will walk through the shadow of death if I feel You at my side. You give me courage to do what I cannot do alone. You are my strength. You are my joy.

Abound in my 2009. Fill me with You.

In Jesus’ precious name, Amen.