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Wednesday, October 3, 2007
There are benefits to living in California. Never mind the earthquakes, the fruits and the nuts, and the over priced real estate. *grin* Now let me remind you I was with my daughter, my twelve-year-old daughter. Do you think she wanted to ride the Teacups or leisurely sail through, It’s a Small World? Oh no, it was a fast-paced, head-jerking, bouncing, weaving, convulsing, scream your head off, dawn-to-dusk, thrill ride, marathon. We rode every single ride, in both parks mind you, where you panick then grab the safety railings with white-knuckled fingers and hang on for dear life. Every ride enticed us at least twice and sometimes more…. Can you see me running around to get in line again? I did! After arriving home that day with a ton of great memories, laughs and a small crick in my neck, my daughter and I collapsed into bed. The next morning is when I realized my folly. I could barely move. I was stiff all over and suffering from a king-sized headache. My shoulders were permanently stiff and gathered up around my poor neck. I hurt from the top of my head all the way to my big toes. I dragged myself to the coffee pot then shuffled to my daughter’s room to get her out of bed and ready for school. She moved slow as well, and then complained about her sore shoulders. That is when I had a V-8 minute. You know this. It’s where you smack yourself on the forehead and a distant memory dawns on you. That miniute I remembered last year’s visit to Disneyland and how the next day was horrid. I recalled my pinch-in-the-neck, headache had lasted for three days. Why, oh, why do I not remember the price I paid last year? Sometimes those unpleasant experiences I endure just don’t stick. Don’t get me wrong, spending the day with my daughter was a blast. But, why didn’t I think to bring along one of her 12-year-old friends? I have thought about this V-8 moment many times this week as I gulped down asprin. Why didn’t I learn the lesson the first time? Then I started to remember all the revisits to the Lord’s classroom. Why, oh, why can’t I get it right the first time? How frustrated God must be. For example, repeating Finances 101 is a recurring habit. God is always there to instruct me about trusting Him. He reminds me, “Lynn, remember when you were a single parent? You learned to live on $25 a week after I helped you pay the bills. Also let me remind you of the time I supplied the exact amount of money you needed to pay the mortgage and how it came from an unexpected source.” Another “do-over” course I attend regularly covers the danger of pride. He also schedules repeaters with regard to James 1:19. I think I am finally getting that one down. However, the Lord’s patient instruction over the years is priceless to me. A treasure I store in my heart. He never fails to show up even when I mess up for the third, fourth, fifth, etc. etc.…… His protection, wisdom, and love never fail. 1 Corinthians 13:4a (NIV) As for the most recent lesson learned, next year it is Dad’s turn! Have a blessed and beautiful day! See you in the classroom.  I would love to visit with you over at my place:  Spiritually Unequal Marriage.Labels: Humor, Love, Lynn's Articles, trust Leave a comment... 9 Comments Links to this post “…And, yet God, You’re still sovereign, Your throne intact and eternal.” Lamentations 5:20b Have you ever had those moments when you just really felt like everything was going wrong, times when life just seems to be spinning out of control? Perhaps it is a health issue with you or a family member. Maybe it’s the loss of a job or just the stress of too many responsibilities. Whether it’s from our own poor choices, decisions made by those around us, or just circumstances beyond our control, we’ve all had times when we just felt like the bottom was falling out from underneath us. That is exactly where we find the children of Israel in Lamentations chapter five. In this case, they were being disciplined by God, their loving Heavenly Father, for their sins. They had chosen to “buy into the pagan system” of their day (boy, does that sound familiar) and God was grieved and angry. The bottom had fallen out of their lives. They were dealing with famine, war, violence, and complete despair. The writer of Lamentations is drawing the desperate picture for us, and right in the middle of all the discouraging details, he penned these words in verse twenty. “…and yet God, You’re still sovereign, Your throne intact and eternal.” No matter how bad things were, he recognized Who was still in control. This isn’t always easy, but this is an amazing truth that is often times our only hope. No matter how difficult life may get, God is still sovereign and His throne is still intact and eternal. We can trust Him with our health concerns. We can rest in His sufficiency, knowing that no matter how hard the storm rages, His Anchor holds. Corrie ten Boone said it so eloquently, when she said, “There is no pit too deep, that He is not deeper still”. We are never so far that His arm cannot save us. Our life is never so dark, that He cannot see exactly where we are. When life seems to be spinning out of control, hang on, my friend, because God, the Creator and Sustainer of this universe, is still in complete control. He is still on His throne, where He will remain for all eternity, and He is working all things (the good, the bad, and the ugly) together for our good and for His glory! Lord, thank you that you are God and you are in total control. Thank you that your reign is eternal and there is nothing, or no one, that can overthrow you. Thank you that you are, right now, working everything together for our good and we can trust you. Help us to remember when life is hard, whether it’s due to our own sin or circumstances out of our control, that nothing surprises You and nothing is too big for You. In Him ~ Tammy… You can read more from Tammy by visiting her personal blog at Steps In Our Journey Labels: coping, courage, Endurance, Faith, fear, grief, heart matters, Hope, peace, Suffering, Tammy, trust Leave a comment... 7 Comments Links to this post Zechariah was the father of John the Baptist. He was a Priest and served God blamelessly, and unfortunately Zechariah and his wife Elizabeth did not have any children. They had prayed and prayed a long time for God to bless them with a child. To put into perspective the position of Zechariah, he was the Billy Graham, Beth Moore, or ______ (insert name) of their time. He was a man who followed God as closely as a person on earth could. One day Zechariah was performing his duties as Priest by offering incense in the temple while people were praying on the outside. An angel of the Lord visited Zechariah and said, "Do not be afraid, Zechariah; your prayer has been heard. Your wife Elizabeth What was his reaction? Was it one of great joy because his prayers were heard and answered? No, it was one of doubt. Zechariah responded by saying, “How can I be sure of this?” (vs18) This may seem like a logical reaction, but Zechariah was in the hollies of hollies, in the presence of God and he questions the words given to him. The angel responded by saying: "I am Gabriel. I stand in the presence of God, and I have been sent to speak My version is Gabriel thinking of all the nerve! And then he politely says, " Zechariah, don't you know who I am? I am Gabriel, one sent by God himself, but yet you doubt! For because of your doubt...be silent!" (these humans can be so impossible!) Ok all joking aside. With Zechariah’s background he knew about angels, he knew in the Old Testament they came and brought good news. God called Zechariah to have faith and trust. Many times we have the knowledge of God’s word but we need to make the journey through faith to trust. Trust says logically you have the knowledge, but faith is putting that trust in action. One is in your head the other in your heart. For example, we share a confidence with a friend, we have the head knowledge that this is a close friend, but once you share your confidence you need to have faith to trust that the confidence will not be shared. I love the story of Zechariah this story gives me hope. If Zechariah can doubt or question then I to have hope that God won’t give up on me. God silenced Zechariah because of his doubt, but through that God was restoring him back to the faith he once had. Circumstances can be God leading us to trust him, but we can only trust through faith. With Zechariah it was in the stillness and silence that God was cultivating and growing his faith. To put this in contrast, soon after this happened there was a little girl who an angel came to visit and told her she would bear a child, and he will be the long awaited coming Messiah. Mary had great faith so she did not question the angel. I am not implying Zechariah did not have great faith, but he did doubt and God restored him. This story is showing that Godly people can struggle with doubt, but God will work to restore those who doubt back to faith. Praise God he does not give up on the ones who love Him.  You can visit me at my personal blog: Laurel Wreath Labels: Faith, Laurel's Articles, trust Leave a comment... 14 Comments Links to this post
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Instead of maintaining four vehicles, we will dwindle to two, allowing me to pull into the garage without weaving through our private summer obstacle course called, “The driveway.” Our grocery bill will plummet like the first drop of a roller coaster. The telephone will ring less. Toilet paper will no longer be on the endangered species list. Best of all, my little dog, a walking aggregation of nerves, will no longer be launched into outer space when our kids’ friends ring the doorbell. (Her rockets fire before “ding” becomes “dong.”) The reason for these changes? Two of our three kids are leaving for college--my son, Jordan, for the first time. Cue the violins, because no matter how much I’ll appreciate the pleasant changes, when I see their empty chairs at dinner and empty beds each night, I will struggle with just that—emptiness. I know that life is transitional and that the ultimate goal of rearing kids is to guide them to complete independence. Still, I long for permanence I can count on no matter how many years pass, no matter how my circumstances, my job, my interests or my role as mom changes. I need an anchor. Happily, just such a mainstay of peace has been mine over the years, even when my footing was unsure, or my heart raced with fear, or ached with sadness--as when we left our daughter at college that first time. My anchor has been the constant friendship of Jesus. In all of my ups and downs, relationship struggles, personal failures and insecurities, I have not been alone. When my head hit my pillow at night, I knew I was under his watchful eye. When I awoke to face another problematic day (Is there any other kind?) I trusted that he knew the paths I would take and would even order my steps if I submitted to him. When I walked through fiery trials, he didn’t extinguish the flames, but he held my hand through them. As a result, the purifying heat helped refine me, but more importantly, helped me know him more intimately. As I prepared for Jordan’s graduation a few weeks ago, I found a stick figure crayon drawing he made for us when he was six. On the page I had written, “Jordan wants us to keep this, even when he goes to college.” And now that time is here. I did indeed keep it, treasuring the thought that as much as kids want to grow up and away, they also need an enduring love they can depend on; they need an anchor. My greatest hope is that as my children grow more independent of us, they will grow more dependent on the one who loves them unconditionally and unflinchingly, through all of their personal trials. Despite the best of intentions and efforts, no parent, spouse, or child of their own will ever be able to completely or perfectly fulfill their needs. Only the one who the writer of Hebrews acknowledges as “the same yesterday, today, and forever” is capable of such pure and abiding love. As a result of his faithfulness, I am able to release my grip on my son and daughter, and the only clinging I’ll do will be to Jesus, my steadfast anchor and friend.  Please come visit my personal blog at 2nd Cup of Coffee. Labels: anchor, changes, Children, Faith, Linda's Articles, trust Leave a comment... 11 Comments Links to this post When he was four years old, he asked a lot of questions. Or, I should say, he asked the same question a lot of times. Wide-eyed, anticipating a sensible answer, he would look at me as though I held all knowledge, ready to serve it to him in response to his every, "Why?" And I did my best to answer his simple questions in terms he could understand. If he'd just sat still long enough. That was back when his dad and I were nearly as smart as God in his big, brown eyes. Back when a kiss could make it better and sadness could be washed away with a sippy cup of juice. Back when the world could be conquered from atop training wheels and world peace was threatened only by inevitability of a good, soapy bath. At age ten, his questions are now more sophisticated. "How do we know for certain if someone else is saved? When is God coming back? Didn't God tell Adam and Eve about Satan? Why do some people know how powerful God is, but still refuse to obey Him?" And I do my best to help him find answers in verses, sometimes failing and admitting, "I don't know." Touched by three deaths and the debilitating illness of a child in the past week, my prayer list is long. Or, I should say, it's short since it includes only one question, "Why?" I look heavenward, wide-eyed, anticipating a sensible answer from the One who does hold all knowledge. He hands me His Word to answer me in terms I can understand. If I just sit still long enough. He never says, "I don't know." When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. 1 Corinthians 13: 11-12  Carol's blog can be found here. Labels: Carol's Articles, Comfort, Faith, listening, trust Leave a comment... 8 Comments Links to this post Remember in Proverbs 30: 19 that poetic verse about seemingly commonplace moments that are actually marvels beyond comprehension? They include: “the way of an eagle in the sky, a snake on a rock, a ship on the sea, and the way of man with a maiden.” Well, I’m adding one more to the list of bafflers: the way of a mother planning her child’s graduation open house. You've got to see (or be) a mom in this mode to believe it. One minute she can be all business, organizing food lists, decorations, music ... and then become an emotional blubbering mess in the blink of an eye. “I can’t believe my baby is all grown up!” becomes the tag line in any conversation concerning that child. For instance, Mom could be talking with the manager of the dental office who called to remind her of the child's appointment. Before she hangs up, she will somehow work in the refrain, "Yes, he'll have to switch from the pediatric dentist to our dentist because he's graduating this month, you know. I just can't believe he's all grown up!" In Indiana, a mom of a high school senior in the month of May is a force to be reckoned with—or better yet, to be avoided completely! There’s a tradition here of having an open house around graduation time that resembles a scaled-down wedding reception. The pressure and stress of this event can be overwhelming if you're not a natural “entertainer” or hostess. And this is where I am personally this week. My son is graduating high school. By the time you read this, the open house will have happened yesterday afternoon, and I am anticipating a bit of melancholic let-down Monday morning. It would be easy to poke fun at the moms who build “shrines” for their kids at this milestone, but I’ll resist, because I “get it.” I think there is an underlying, unstated reason behind the frenzy that deserves some compassion. At the heart of this circus is a mother’s process of letting go, saying goodbye, to her child. Many moms begin grieving at the beginning of the senior year, and the last month is highly emotional. In spite of a different kind of parenting that lies ahead, moms start to feel that there’s nothing productive left to do, and so they create something to do for that child. It’s like staging one last hurrah to say, “I love you. I’m proud of you—and does this make up for not doing the fundraiser in elementary school, the track meet I missed in junior high and the time I called you ‘honey’ in front of your coach?” It’s all about that deep, unconditional, heart-tourniquet kind of love that looks a little desperate during this transition. What a paradox—a mom’s goal is to guide her dependent child to independence, and yet there is an inescapable desire to hold on to him. It’s baffling—beyond comprehension—the bittersweet way of a mother with her child who’s on the threshold of independence. My son was dedicated at 3 months old. We were determined to give him the most solid spiritual background we could so that when he reached this point in life, he could take the next steps toward an ever-deepening relationship with Christ. In many ways, it’s time to let him go now—let him make many new decisions that I may or may not agree with. That is a little scary. So today, I’m clinging to scripture from comfort. I have always cherished Luke 2:19, “But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.” Even though Mary held the Savior of the world who would inevitably become famous in some way, in that moment, he was primarily "her" son. She knew she would have to let him carve his own way once it was the proper time, but for now she could treasure the time with him and treasure the potential he embodied. I guess the sweetness of that verse moves me, but also just knowing this ambivalence I feel, pride mixed with a little grieving, is a normal part of motherhood that crosses time and culture. And John 14:1, Jesus’ comforting assurance, though so familiar, is so meaningful: "Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me.” Finally, John 28:7 “The LORD is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in him, and I am helped. My heart leaps for joy and I will give thanks to him in song.” Thank you, Lord, for making me the mother of my son. May he become all that you destined him to be with a heart that is perpetually drawn to you. Give me the grace to move into this next phase of parenting and to trust you now as I did the day he was born. Your faithfulness lasts through all generations, and I am blessed with the privilege of trusting you with my precious son. Visit my personal blog at 2nd Cup of Coffee Labels: Faith, Linda's Articles, Motherhood, trust Leave a comment... 13 Comments This mama doesn’t get out of the house very often (which is fine with me!), and so the lessons the Father teaches me are most often found in my everyday life, my children and their spiritual development. I’m so grateful that He meets me where I am! Today, it finally happened. I’ve been waiting and waiting. Hoping. Longing. Eliana brought me her slipper. It fell off when she was pushing her baby in the stroller, and from where I was in the kitchen, I watched her stop, pick it up, and contemplate it for a moment. Then a light bulb seemed to click on, and she looked around anxiously until she spotted me at my post, where I pretended I wasn’t watching and stirred the pot nonchalantly. Quickly she made her way over to me, making a nonsense sound that ended with a question mark, and held out her pink butterfly slipper. I swooped down to her level. “Oh, you lost your slipper! Do you want me to put it back on for you?” I asked. She clapped her hands (her sign for please) and plopped down on her fat diaper. As I slid the slipper back on to her tiny foot and watched her toddle back to her toys, the significance of the moment was not lost on me. Usually, the baby who lost her slipper either (a) didn’t even notice, or (b) screamed and threw a fit when she couldn’t get it back on by herself. I had been waiting for her to recognize that instead of wailing and carrying on, she could just ask me for help. As the day passed, she brought me her empty water cup, her baby whose hat would not stay on, and patted my leg, signing the word “Lovey”, for her special rag. There wasn’t a tantrum to be seen, nor did I spy any indifference to her plights. She asked, and I helped. How is it that Eliana has known me as her food source for sixteen months, and yet when it came to something she could not do on her own, it took her that long to figure out I was also a source of help? Like a chant, the words ask, seek, knock began to trail through my mind. And like so many other moments in this Mama’s life, I sensed the Father was showing me something. Beloved, I’ve always been here. You needn’t carry on so; I will help, if only asked.
His is the food source above all others. I know this. But so many, many times, I fumble about on my own, and carry on in frustration as I struggle to get by, rather than asking for help and trusting that He will come to my rescue. In asking for and receiving His aid, I am learning how to live and lead, just as Eliana will soon learn how to put on her own slipper, just by mimicking my motions. It’s so much more, really, than receiving help; it’s accepting guidance that will lead us into His will for our lives. And for you, I pray that your eyes may be opened to the beautiful sight of the Father, coming to meet you where you are.  Labels: Elise's Articles, trust Leave a comment... 17 Comments Links to this post  Every day going to and from work, I pass a small municipal airport sitting so far from the road I rarely remember it’s there. Instead, I’m focused on the day’s events or on jabbing buttons to get to a better song. Occasionally, out of the blue, a shadow sweeps over my car, quickening my adrenalin and firing up goose bumps. For a split second, as the interior of my car darkens and lightens again, all I know is that something big is happening all over and around me. Before I can make sense of it, it’s over. Afterwards, I smile at myself for forgetting where I am . . . airplanes tend to hang around airports. No matter how many times I watch planes take off and land, I never get over the wonder of the physics and finesse of the maneuver. The procedure is so far above me, literally and mentally. And when one descends relatively close by, it’s always breathtaking. I’ve noticed that God often reinforces such arresting images to teach or reassure me. For example, I was walking in my neighborhood listening to “Better is One Day” by Kutless, and a plane cast its shadow over me again. Coincidentally, there is a line in the song that says, “I sing beneath the shadow of your wings” (Psalm 63:7). I was sensing a theme. As I listened, it occurred to me that the “fly-over” is how I often experience God’s presence in my life, especially when I cannot seem to hear his voice or feel his direction. Christians often talk about moments when we feel God’s presence or hear him speak and the times we don’t. Of course, God is faithful and constant, but we seem to have certain expectations of how he will communicate with us, and if he decides to use another means, we often miss hearing him. Other times, we might miss him if we’re simply too distracted by pushing life’s buttons, trying to get to the next best thing or stay ahead of the game. And how easy is it to miss his voice if we’re constantly submerged in TV, music, movies, telephone conversations, and (gasp) blogging? I’ve never known anyone who experienced Jesus walking into their room, turning off the TV or computer and demanding, “We need to talk!” although I have wondered about my occasional Internet shutdowns! Obviously, we could write off those examples of apparent silence as our fault, but what about those times when we focus intently on hearing him, and we’re met with silence? Just the other day, I was following the ACTS L guide to praying (adoration, confession, thanksgiving, supplication and listening). When I got to the listening part, I quieted my mind and waited, but I sensed no revelations, no guidance, not so much as a cricket chirp of communication. That can be discouraging. Oswald Chambers has something interesting to say about silence: “[God’s] silence is the sign that He is bringing you into a marvelous understanding of Himself. Are you mourning before God because you have not had an audible response? You will find that God has trusted you in the most intimate way possible, with an absolute silence, not of despair, but of pleasure, because He saw that you could stand a bigger revelation. If God has given you a silence, praise Him, He is bringing you into the great run of His purposes. The manifestation of the answer in time is a matter of God's sovereignty. Time is nothing to God. For a while you said – ‘I asked God to give me bread, and He gave me a stone.’ He did not, and today you find He gave you the bread of life.” Some believe silence is holy--especially those with toddlers! I believe God uses periods of silence to deepen our faith. Perhaps silence tests us insofar as showing how little it takes to discourage us, in order to compel us to grow deeper. On the other hand, if we steadfastly continue to seek him during our trials, silence may help prove that our faith remains hardy in spite of circumstances, marking a robust and seasoned faith. If you’re waiting for a response to a specific prayer, remember how long Job waited to hear from God. In other words, waiting in and of itself can be a message. So now I view periods of silence another way. I look for the Lord to “fly over” my life, covering me with his presence. Almost immediately, I begin to see him in others, in his creation, or in music. And no matter how many times I experience him close-up and personal like this, just as with the airplane flying low over my car, I never get over the wonder of it—he is awesome. Our God casts a big shadow—a big, big, shadow, with the majesty of an eagle whose wingspan is immeasurable, with the precision and power of the most sophisticated aircraft and the tender care of a mother covering her children. His presence is all I need. The image of the mighty eagle swooping down and up, circling and watching, casting his holy shadow over my life, allows me to lay my head on my pillow at night in peace. And in my spirit, I sing beneath the shadow of his wings. Labels: depression, Faith, fear, Linda's Articels, peace, Prayer, silence, trust Leave a comment... 15 Comments Links to this post
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Bonnie Hooley
