Hope On Display

Sometimes the ache on the inside 

steals my breath

and grinds my insides

Really? Again? 

Can't this - peopling - ever be simple?

Will hope always be 

mired in muck

always grasping and gasping

for life?


Hope


It is truth!  

Not all this 

...other stuff 

that reeks of death 

and cheerlessness

expectation 

and failure


How long, oh Lord?

And why so hard?

I hate this place...


Yet on these days 

smiles and jestings flow 

Like grace

they save me

bathe me 

in refreshment

and laughter breathing


On these days 

I'll make you laugh

Life force on display

for you 

...for me

For no matter how breath-less   

I will see grace 

I must


Come what may

...and it is here again...

hope will breathe

grace ever-flowing

It's origin far upstream

where no eye has seen

no ear has heard

and no mind has imagined

the goodness prepared 

by Him who is all good


He holds me tightly

...always has

In Him

hope never disappoints

Into this parched

discouraged 

stubborn heart

He will pour love


again


And while I wait

I'll fight

with light and laughter

...hope on display

The smile that hides the battle

but battles on

unquenchable


For hope will have the last laugh

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No eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no mind has imagined

the things that God has prepared for those who love him.
~1 Corinthians 2:9

 Therefore, since we have been declared righteous by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in the hope of God’s glory. Not only this, but we also rejoice in sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance, character, and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us.

~Romans 5:1-5

To Be or Not To Be?

The list clamors in my head, "Do this first! No, this! You should! You must!"

I can't bear all this yelling.

Despite some maturity, I still hate conflict. And today, mind curls into fetal position that cries, "Enough! Just care for me! I am not what I do!"

Is this weakness? Laziness?
I don't know.

Is it real need for real rest?
I have no idea.

But it is today.

I do not thrive on dos and shoulds and musts. I never have. I am so out of place in this world of dos. My skin never fits it's demands.

Take me to a quiet place where doing is paced. Tasks, patient. A place alive with listening, watching, knowing. Let me feel and write. My best doing is in being.

I wish it were enough.

Yet, each day has been apportioned for me...

Is my weariness mere rebellion?

So often this battle finds me. Outer reality meeting inward frame. Most days we compromise. I muster courage. Stuff down inner voice and do...stuff.

Yet I always wonder: Is there a place to be in this world of doing? Do I only earn my being by doing? Is joy and breath and fresh air only for those who get their stuff done? 

And even as I rise from pondering, knowing I will do today, resigned soul clamors back it's parting shot,

"To be or not to be? That is the question."

Perhaps it's the voice of Eden lost that keeps me ever longing. An inner knowing that I was made for rest. For knowing and being known.

One day all that was lost will be restored. Until that day I soldier on, by His breath and in His strength, wresting quiet from the truth that one day I will be free...to be.  

Trespassing Darkness

Oh, the thoughts I do not write out loud

The thoughts concealed from others

yet not wholly hidden

The ones weighed heavy

discontent

threatening breath and life


How I'd love to will them away

but no

It doesn't happen that way

I wish it did

It's a lazy desperation

while mired in imaginings

standing as shadow over this heart


Darkness and shadow...


Yes, sometimes I venture there

staying far too long

Roots fingering down

demanding vindication

lengthening oppression

These are not friendly roots

The shadow unsafe

I know this well


For truth stands vigilant

when mind cries vigilante

Truth stands still

and stills my heart

Stills roots that seek

to bind in stealth

...make bitter


How despised, this place I choose to go

These thoughts that trespass holiness

For in them I trespass darkness...

another's kingdom


I have no haven here

On War: Aching For My Sisters

As I sought a moment of quiet this morning, I opened my Bible to the beginning of Paul's first letter to Timothy. Pondering slowly and deliberately, I was interrupted by the dancing eyes of my sweet granddaughter who had sidled up next to me for a nose kiss and a giggle. As she ran off for a new adventure I returned to my reading. 

In stark contrast to the scene that had just unfolded before me, the text soon turned to thoughts of lawbreakers, rebels, and murderers and my mind turned to today's headlines of horrid persecutions by the group ISIS in Iraq. In that moment I chose to let the horror of it all touch the deep places of my mind and heart. 

Lord, have mercy...

...for even as I revel in the nearness of children and grandchildren today, my heart breaks for the mothers and grandmothers, sisters and aunties who are suffering, fleeing, being raped and beaten, seeing their children beheaded and husbands, brothers, fathers murdered. It's unfathomable, yet the reports and gruesome photos bring relentless testimony before me that cannot be ignored. There is no quiet this morning for these families.

Friends, please pray for the Christians and other minorities in Iraq who are suffering these horrendous acts of genocide, that those who might come to their aid would have strength, wisdom and courage, and that the hearts of those intent upon evil would be changed. 

The suffering of war and strife are certainly well beyond the borders of Iraq in so many places, among so many people...and many with no way to defend themselves. Because I am a woman, when I close my eyes I can't help but resonate with the pain and fear of the women, young and old, who ache to protect their children, who cannot escape mob brutality, who are cowering or fleeing in fear even as I linger in the calm of my sun-filled, hope-filled morning, helpless to snatch even one precious sister from harm. And so I pray, and I weep, and I'm reminded once again not to squander the rich blessings of peace.

There are women within my reach who are bound and hurting...hunted and haunted. Lord, where can I ease suffering today? And let me never cease praying for those beyond my reach, for they are never beyond Yours.

Keepin' It Real

Sometimes I don't get a day's worth of work done in a week. 

Other times I get a week's worth of work done in a day...like today. 

How ever life lands, I've often felt weighed in the balance and found wanting...by myself and others. How about you?


As a recovering procrastinator, I've spent most of my life with a non-task orientation, given to long stretches of living outside any list, and excelling at general dilly dallying, but one can't entirely muzzle one's pesky firstborn responsibility gene forever. 

Speaking of which, I often dream of retiring from being firstborn. 

Then again, I often dream of retiring from adulthood. 

In a particularly whiny moment I began an email to my siblings offering one of them first dibs on firstborn before I posted the job and hired from the outside. Well, of course I deleted it before hitting send once I'd vented and re-dedicated my life to wearing big girl pants. 

Sigh...

Am I conflicted? Yes. Daily. 

Do I often wish that I was someone else? Someone more efficient and driven? Yes. 
Yes I do. 

Do I know that comparison is a joy killer? Only too well. 

I've spent a lifetime working new habits into my life; ways of doing things that work for me. They streamline as often as they trick me into accomplishing more. (Tricking yourself into getting things done is good practice for parenting.) I manage my time and my life way better than my 20-something self and, truth be told, there are many grownup tasks that I've learned to enjoy or at least not lose sleep over.   

But through those same precious decades I've also wasted a lot of energy comparing myself to other women who are stronger, faster, and able leap tall buildings in a single bound. You know the ones I mean. Those other women. They look like Super-women and surely if I only tried harder I could be super too. 

You been there?

Yeah...I go there way too quickly. But I'm learning. One thing I see clearly is that I love my jeans and cozy cardigans way too much to trade them in for spandex and a cape. I am me, not [various unnamed women I admire] and at two score and twelve, I need to choose more wisely between investing and wasting...energy, time, thought, breath.

Life is too short. Besides, I rather enjoy my kid-at-heart tendencies, even when they're clumsily tripping over my inner-firstborn.

It seems I may be finally growing into my thumb print of a life and it's about time. There's no one else like me...or you. We're all one of a kind with a one of a kind purpose. (Ephesians 2:10) And don't even think about declaring any thumb wars on me.  
I probably already think you're way beyond cool and I've got no time for girl drama. 

I'm not the strongest or the fastest, but who's comparing? (smile) I may not be able to leap over a pile of shoes in a single bound, but somehow when the dust settles there's still coffee and prayer and clean laundry and laughter and writing and groceries and reading and weeding and taxiing and friends and dates and chores and, most of the time, there's dinner. 

Bottom line, somehow it all works out...even with a little extra dilly in my dally.


My favorite goals are hard to quantify anyway: Live each day as a worshiper of God. 
Be thankful, prone to love, and just a little wiser than the day before.  

#lifeaccounting #keepinitreal

Knees Bent

Do you have anyone in your life who seems to just be able to read you? The one who, no matter how "fine" you answer the "how are you?" question, squints her soul-eyes and digs a little deeper. 

"How are you really? ... What's going on?"

I have such a friend. She has been God's gift to me the past few years whenever I've attempted to move through life with my purposely evasive "happy face." Though I know better, I still find myself hiding behind a veneer at times. 

In loving and wise response, the Lord sent me a precious friend with compassionate and probing eyes - that truly sparkle when she smiles - to prod me out of my laminate life when I least expect it. 

I've come to recognize that seeing me is His gifting in her, therefore I now trust being seen. And I've learned to love this about her and about our encounters. So as we caught up via text today and planned a coffee date, something I shared struck me at a deeper level. 

Let me back up a little... 

Last night around dinner time the buzz on my phone came with the tell-tale question: "How are you?" Not able to respond till this morning, I started "thumbing" this reply and was caught up short even as I texted:

"I'm doing fine. Still finding my sea legs with life's changes and finding that knees bent..." 

Wait... Hmm... I continued: 

"...knees bent is more than just a way to not lose your balance." 

Knees bent. I picture this posture when I remember endless volleyball drills in high school. Being at the ready...prepared to move to the ball in any direction. I see this stance when I imagine a surfer absorbing the movement of a wave or a sailor remaining aright in choppy seas, thus the term sea legs. 

But even as I texted knees bent, my mind flashed to someone kneeling at prayer. "On bended knee..." Such an iconic image. This is what stopped me mid-text. The Lord spoke in that flash of a thought: 

"You will keep your balance as you come to Me with knees bent...in prayer. I am your sea legs." Selah was certainly implied.


So, now I'm resting awhile upon this thought. Mulling it. And sharing it...

If life is knocking you around, friend...bend your knees. 
If all is dizzying uncertainty...bend your knees.
Bound by sin? Bend your knees. 
Too exhausted to stand? Don't. Fall to your knees...fall in His arms. 

But must I kneel to pray? 

While kneeling is a wonderful prayer posture, it is not the only way to pray. To me, kneeling is often more of a heart posture. Come in humility. Bow your heart. Come as you are and where you are: standing at your sink full of dishes or in the refuge of the shower, sitting in traffic or in the quiet blessing of morning or late evening hours. Mid-day. Mid-text...

Jesus beckons, "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." So come to Him with heart bowed, hands open in surrender... 

"I can't do this."

And as you lean into Him, He'll whisper, "I know. But I can... I will."

The words of of the Lord in Isaiah 30:15 ring true to me again today as they have so many times before, "In repentance and rest you will be saved, 
                                            In quietness and trust is your strength."  

Prayer. Knees bent... Come to Him in prayer. Often and always. Breathe in life and grace, strength and comfort. Then stand and find your balance in Him.

*       *       *       *       *       *       * 

Thank you sweet "how are you?" friend, and thank you, Jesus, for sisters who are Your hands and feet to draw me out from my veneer and back to You...to vulnerability and truth.

Now I come, with knees bent...