Hope

“Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow.”~ Albert Einstein

Red, (narrating):”I find I’m so excited, I can barely sit still or hold a thought in my head. I think it’s the excitement only a free man can feel, a free man at the start of a long journey whose conclusion is uncertain. I hope I can make it across the border. I hope to see my friend, and shake his hand. I hope the Pacific is as blue as it has been in my dreams. I hope.” ~ Final lines from The Shawshank Redemption, based upon Stephen King’s novella Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption

“Hope is faith holding out its hand in the dark.” ~ George Iles

“Hope is the thing with feathers,
that perches in the soul,
and sings the tune without words,
and never stops at all.”
~ Emily Dickinson

“But even now there is hope left. I will not give you counsel, saying do this, or do that. For not in doing or contriving, nor in choosing between this course and another, can I avail; but only in knowing what was and is, and in part also what shall be. But this I will say to you: your Quest stands upon the edge of a knife. Stray but a little and it will fail, to the ruin of all. Yet hope remains while all the Company is true.” ~ Galadriel: The Mirror of Galadriel, Fellowship of the Ring, J.R.R. Tolkien
Hope is my middle name.

That’s not a superlative metaphorical description of a sunny disposition, an aggressively positive personality or an exaggeration. Hope really is my middle name. It was never used much, except for by my mother and always as a pre-emptive alarm system…when I heard “Jessica Hope…” at the beginning of any sentence, I knew I better get there fast ‘cause I was in trouble or something was very important.

I always knew it was big stuff when “Hope” got involved. When Dave and I became engaged, I started looking at my name and understood that the choices I wanted to make were going to alter the way I used my name. My initials JHS were about to undergo a voluntary transformation and I spent thoughtful time just doodling my name in its many forms. Eventually, I chose to use my middle initial as from my maiden name, and created a symbol for my initials which was unique and expressive. It was working together very well until the love of my life said one thing, quite lightly and quasi-sarcastically, that stuck firm:

“If this is what you are going to do, that would make you ‘Hope-less.’”

Like the bell chiming for Rocky Balboa during his deepest point of inspiration and determination, this perspective caught me, inspired me to defend the place for hope in my life. “I will never be hopeless,” I told myself, “There will always be hope” I reminded myself with my own level of determination. And I swear there was a bell chiming in the corner as I was fixed within this cerebral contract with myself.

Hope is my middle name.

God’s presence in my life is this hope. It is a deeply aggressive hope, blood-thumping, life changing, transformational hope. Hope that looks the darkness square without wavering or cowering. Hope that brings its own first-aid kit patching up the wounds from spurious attack. Hope with muscle-bound purpose insisting ferociously “All is not lost, God is in control.” Hope that is fierce and roaring, filled with God’s power, facing impossible circumstances with divine solutions.

I have needed to draw from that well of aggressive hope more during these past 10 weeks than ever before. Several fronts within our lives collided together to create a “Perfect Storm” that decimated everything in its path. To write them all down would sound like I was exaggerating with explosive expertise. The circumstances have all been relentless, lined with live ammunition launched at us, the living, breathing, vulnerable targets.

And through this all, God has provided hope: defended hope, fortified hope, built structures with hope. God has brought hope.

Hope is my middle name.

"Now that we have been put right with God through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. He has brought us, by faith, into this experience of God's grace, in which we now live. We rejoice, then, in the hope we have of sharing God's glory! And we also rejoice in troubles, because we know that trouble produces endurance, endurance brings God's approval, and his approval creates hope. This hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by means of the Holy Spirit, who is God's gift to us.” Romans 5:1-5 TEB

Encouragement is Oxygen for the Soul

“Flatter me, and I may not believe you. Criticize me, and I may not like you. Ignore me, and I may not forgive you. Encourage you, and I will not forget you.” ~ William Arthur Ward

“Correction does much, but encouragement does more.”
~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

“You need to be aware of what others are doing; applaud their efforts, acknowledge their successes, and encourage them in their pursuits. When we all help one another, everybody wins.” ~ Jim Stovall

“Taking an interest in what others are doing is often a much more powerful form of encouragement than praise.” ~ Robert Martin

“Encouragement is oxygen for the soul.” ~ Jessie Irwin

“We live by encouragement and die without it – slowly, sadly, angrily.”
~ Celeste Holm


“You are being forwarded to voicemail box, ***** can’t take this call right now. Please enjoy the music…”

As the ukulele strums I find myself singing along with *****’s waiting music, “Somewhere over the rainbow, bluebirds fly…” I am irritated to need to leave another message, but her music always makes me smile and it relieves the surface tension. I am running short on time to hear back from her before I have to make a decision without her. It’s not her fault, or mine, this communication log jam has simply developed because of our very busy schedules.

Busy is a four letter word.

I have been the queen of the answering machine lately, needing to leave messages everywhere, not just in my town. (Has it really been over 100 messages these past few days? Why am I even trying to keep a count?) The most effective way to use a message system is to leave a detailed enough message that can almost prevent someone from needing to call back. “This is what I need”, “I got your message and picked up the orange Gerbera daisies and returned the blue gardenias”, “This is where I’ll be…” “I have ### with me and will be here until 5:36.” Email and texting fill in the cracks enough that ensure I touched base, brought the right paperwork, got the right signature, etc.

Yet with all of this communication, it is telling to me how little I get to speak to a real person, in a real conversation.

I answer email while I am in Master’s Greek class, in between parsing 2nd and 3rd declension nouns, and take care of routine ministry requests (the Sunday worship bulletin for printing) with a few keystrokes and a Send command. I have been surrounded by people, more than usual, because of our increased holiday intake, crisis intervention and solution-creation, but it is their concerns and problems which occupy our time together.

Like Bilbo Baggins describes, “I feel…thin. Sort of stretched, like …butter scraped over too much bread.” (Tolkien, J.R.R. The Fellowship of the Ring)

Playing phone tag with others, them leaving a message telling me what they need, me answering back with answer/action description. All accounted for, but not a conversation. Effective – yes, but efficient? Well, decidedly not.

Last night (which included calling hours, hockey game, basketball practice) I found myself on the sidelines in a community gym and felt like the day had been very heavy. So much done, so much yet to do – and then, as if a breath of fresh air, a gift. One of N. basketball coaches also coaches baseball and talked with me for nearly 10 minutes about my children, most specifically about my sons. Not about schedules and games, but to compliment and inform me on how my boys were doing. He wanted to check about my oldest, who had a nightmare of a baseball season last year… and make sure he was doing okay. I hadn’t talked with him before; he was just aware of a level of injustice and wanted to bring some explanations (which were eye-opening) and some encouragement (which was needed). He didn’t have to say a thing, but his thoughtfulness and his generosity with his time meant so much. The day that felt so heavy was still 24 hours long with all of its same circumstances woven into it, but its weight felt so much lighter exclusively because of someone else’s encouragement.

No one ever has too much encouragement! Give encouragement to as many people around you as possible. Encouragement is like a cool drink of water to someone who is incredibly thirsty. You may not even realize how thirsty that person actually is. We are rarely in a situation where there isn’t someone we can encourage. Resist the tendency to criticize, instead build guidance and instruction into your speech layered with encouragement. People need encouragement desperately, for big and small things – none of us are impervious to the attacks of discouragement. To give authentic encouragement requires a small dedication to think about someone else, unselfishly – listening to their words (what is said and what is not said). Authentic encouragement is not seeking reciprocal admiration, but stopping and highlighting someone else’s choices, actions, lifting them up. Your encouragement to one person can be passed on to more people within their lives. Encouragement is a hopeful transaction of trust and faith. The witness of God’s love will be bigger and wider and more vibrant because of your effort to give encouragement to one person. Help make someone’s burden be light as feather, find a way to be an aggressive encourager today.

“When he arrived there and saw the wonderful things God was doing, he was filled with excitement and joy, and encouraged the believers to stay close to the Lord, whatever the cost. Barnabas was a kindly person, full of the Holy Spirit and strong in faith. As a result large numbers of people were added to the Lord.” Acts 11:23-24

Watch Out for Moose and Deer

Who can hope to be safe? who is sufficiently cautious?Guard himself as he may, every moment's an ambush. ~Horace

Accidents, and particularly street and highway accidents, do not happen - they are caused. ~Ernest Greenwood

It’s a very sobering feeling to be up in space and realize that one’s safety factor was determined by the lowest bidder on a government contract - Alan Shepherd.
Safety is something that happens between your ears, not something you hold in your hands - Jeff Cooper.
To keep oneself safe does not mean to bury oneself - Seneca

Prepare and prevent, don't repair and repent. ~Author Unknown

There was only one catch and that was Catch-22, whcih specified that a concern for one's own safety in the face of dangers that were real and immediate was the process of a rational mind. Jospeh Heller


The moon is still full in the sky and constellations shine brightly from their celestial home. “Hey, Orion, it’s good to see you,” I say, gazing at the night-sky littered with sparkling diamonds. I look for him in every dark sky, following his seasonal placement and movement. We live in a very rural area, not inundated with excessive industrial and residential light pollution, and though there are many days lost to cloud cover, I can find Orion each week of the year. It’s a comforting habit to know I am not alone, that this ancient hunter with his stylish belt and helmet and handy spear are on guard.
“It’s a bit late for you isn’t it?” I question my star-filled friend, glancing at the clock (5:25 a.m.), filling my van with the day’s essentials in a few trips. Books, breakfast, cuppa coffee, lunch, laptop, more books, purse, palm pilot, camera, a few more books, VHS tapes to be returned to the library, a sweater, phone (How do I need so many things?) Late October in Northeast OH has a dark sky very late in the morning and every early in the evening – daylight savings time will be coming soon with its forgiving “fall back” hour which always seems to provide for me a gracious extra amount of time for more than a week. But for now, this pre-breakfast commute to the other side of the state for Master’s classes in Greek and Puritanism will be by the light of the silvery moon.

My husband has just come home from the gym just before I go, and I step upstairs to wake up half of the kid crew – their bus will be here by 7 a.m. so they need to be out of bed by 6…”Wakee, wakee, eggs and bakeee”

Dave coming in and me going out, to be away from each other most of the day he affectionately reminds me, as he always has: “Watch out for moose and deer.”

I had no idea how important it would be to me that day.

When I first met Dave we were university students in the Music School at the University of Akron. Both full-time students, he working two additional jobs, me working one and both of us keeping a full schedule of gigs, we were driving in so many different directions. Time together was scarce and regularly we were tired and a drive home was loaded with the possibility to be driving while sleepy. He would say, “Watch out for moose and deer” and getting to know his parents, I knew this is what his father would say to him as he was leaving the house. It was Irwin affection developed by hunters and brothers who lived in Maine wilderness areas – “Take care of yourself, be safe even when there is present danger around.”

It was not casual or intended to be funny; it was playfully serious. A moose in the road will not move or run and will walk away from the accident that devastated your vehicle. In deer season, when you are driving in green and wooded areas, you are in the feeding and safe areas for these animals which are hiding and feeling pursued. They will run out into the road at unpredictable times – you have to keep in mind that they could run into your path and be ready to stop quick and avoid them.

So when Dave lovingly reminded me, “Watch out for moose and deer,” I kept in mind he wants me drive like I have some sense.

It takes me 20 minutes to even get to the highway, navigating the rural roads and thoroughfares on my journey. The corn, potato and soy crops have been harvested and most farms are bare and desolate, waiting for the autumn plowing and winter wheat. I had downloaded a version of Pilgrim’s Progress and burned a cd of it to pass my 100 minute trip, so I am driving and paying attention, but I am paying attention to many things.
And then, on the left, it was a 10 point buck (maybe it was 12 points) standing right by the side of the road, grazing, contemplating, waiting. It is still very dark and to see a deer there was striking. Would he run and dash across the traffic? Would he remain on the side of the road? Traffic slowed down immediately, perilously, aware that danger was present.
Within 2 more minutes, on the right there are two does…are there more? Are there young ones, too? Are they waiting for an open space to run or will they bolt out regardless of my van or the trucks and cars around us? Driving has me on edge, keeping in mind that I need to keep my wits and pay attention to the coming landscape.
Then, without any warning a pick-up truck tries to cross at an intersection with traffic bearing down, hardly any leeway for his truck to fit or anyone else to get out of the way. Cars are anticipating the impending crash, peeling off to the left and right like a gigantic banana peeling off in several directions. The semi truck who has been driving in the lane right next to me begins to anticipate the impact and tries to correct – by switching to my lane! So, squeezed into a rock and a hard place, it seems like an accident will happen, I will be in the middle of it and there is nothing to stop it all.
My heart is pounding right through my chest and I am praying as I am watching this all. Someone else’s stupid driving has caused a dozen of us to begin making reckless choices about how to solve the problem. The accident is avoided – oh, I hate stupid drivers – but the rest of my trip has my hands shaking, my heart rate elevated, my imagination keyed as I see my family picture without me and my nerves are shredded. I’m fiercely angry and crying – wanting to be safe, danger was lurking, ready to pounce.


Be vigilant about your life – WATCH OUT – for there is danger lurking all around, camped out on the fringes waiting for a vulnerable time to use its strength. Reach out to God to be your stronghold, especially for those weeks that get busier than ever imagined. God will be your refuge, your fortress, your protector when facing the danger life brings, both to our outer lives and our inner lives. Protect yourselves and those you love. Be vigilant about your life.

“He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the LORD, ‘He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.’ Surely he will save you from the fowler's snare and from the deadly pestilence. He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.” Psalm 91:1-4 NIV

How Do You Measure a Broken Heart?

"Hearts will never be made practical until they are made unbreakable."
~ The Tinman (The Wizard of Oz)

“The heart is the only broken instrument that works.”~ T. E. Kalem

"Once upon a time I was falling in love, but now I'm only falling apart; there’s nothing I can say, a total eclipse of the heart.”~ Bonnie Tyler

“In all things it is better to hope than to despair.”~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.

Words and hearts should be handled with care:
For words when spoken and hearts when broken
Are the hardest things to repair.”

“The human heart has hidden treasures, in secret kept, in silence sealed;
The thoughts, the dreams, the hopes, the pleasures,
Whose charms were broken if revealed.” ~ Charlotte Bronte

How Do You Measure a Broken Heart?

The echoes in her broken heart
Were from so many voices,
Too many choices
That pulled her to this place.
She never saw herself right here,
But the tempting voices,
The enticing choices
Promised love but only brought disgrace.

How do you accurately measure
The broken heart which has been robbed of treasure?
Suddenly dark
Empty
Alone, but full of echoes
From voices and choices.
How is it done? Where can you start?
How do you measure a broken heart?

The deafening cacophony of questions:
Too many ferocious voices,
So many miserable choices
That dragged her to this place.
“Why me?” “What if?” “Why now?”
“I must fix this,
But how?”
“There is so much I want to erase.”

Unrelenting echoes pummel her heart:
Unloving voices,
Unbelievable choices
That abandoned her to this place.
No one can know her,
This broken-winged songbird
With the vacant-eyed tear stained face.

A voice deep within stands up to the noise,
Stronger than the voices,
Understanding the choices
That brought her to this place.
Jesus cares deeply
And His echo brings love
Mercy, forgiveness:
“I will measure your heart with grace.”

jsi

The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. Psalm 34:18

The LORD heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. Psalm 147:3

A bruised reed He will not break and a smoldering wick He will not snuff out.
Psalm 42:3

The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me because He has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from the darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the LORD's favor. Isaiah 61:1,2

Fun Monday

The hostess: Mommie Wizdom http://blog.mommiewizdom.com/

It is finally time for this week's Fun Monday. The assignment:

Your job is to write a story (true or made-up). You must INCLUDE all 10 words.

Theme : Bedtime Stories of Raising a Teenager

The words: Ostrich, goosebumps, magazines, soup, cats, lethargic, noodles, tequila, doorknob, biscuit

Wild card words: prehistoric, Jedi Knight, cactus, periscope, humor

***********************************************************************************
And so...

(Clearing throat and opening the carefully preserved story book...)

Once there was an ostrich, Fred, and when he turned thirteen,
His attitude and humor changed, you could tell by his magazines.
Fred once adored to linger, read and ruminate a tad
About his vast collection: Doorknobs! Oy, now they were RAD!!
Fred could sit for hours with his volumes prehistoric
And his heart would race with a pace that was truly meteoric!
Knobs of glass, or wood or pearl from the great Cape of Good Hope
Shapes like buttons, boats and balls - one, a periscope!
His prized one - a light blue orb - a present from Auntie Shelia
Which had contained in its center - the worm from a bottle of tequila!
This one had a cat's eye: Fred had got that one last year.
Another's painted "Abandon all hope YE who enter here."

But Fred has turned thirteen you see, and all that we can tell
That this seems to be the year Fred bid his doorknobs farewell.
To keep on collecting them seemed boring and lethargic.
The reasons for the quick distate seems almost biologic.
Fred didn't feel as strongly 'bout these doorknob magazines,
They didn't give him goosebumps - they were suddenly not keen.
"What really took their place?", you ask. The truth was quite surprising:
We noticed that new magazines were coming here since spring.
Cooking magazines -a bunch - from Arizona and Atlanta
Promising the best quick breads, from pumpkin to banana.

So Fred is in the kitchen, reading passionately with delight
Cooking up a storm, wielding a whisk like a Jedi Knight.
He found more recipes for dinner: Delicious garlic brisket,
Cactus soup with noodles, and a scrumptious flaky biscuit.

jsi

Stop by an see these creative writings, on this very Fun Monday!

1. Heather2. Sayre3. hulagirl4. Tiggerlane5. iPost6. SwampAngel65
7. Gattina8. Raven9. grace10. IamwhoIam11. alison12. Narice
13. Swampy14. Min15. Woodlandmama16. Dr. John17. toni

Fun Monday

Cassie at rdhmom.blogspot.com is hosting Fun Monday today...and the category is "the inside of your messiest closet. No organizing before the picture..."

So here goes.

Drum roll, please...



The hall closet on the first floor, next to the laundry room, the entrance from the garage...



It's not exactly the messiest closet in the world, but it contains the cleaning products that prove...

...that our life can be quite messy. Resolve Carpet Stain Removal, by the several cans in quantity. Our life can be quite messy, and instead of losing my head about another spill, I need to have something forgiving to help prevent it from making a forever stain.

Now, go over to rdhmom.blogspot.com and check out everyone else's closet...what a riot!
1. Sandy
2. BS
3. Heather
4. Jan
5. Bermudabluez
6. Chris B
7. Angela
8. Cynthia
9. Hula Girl
10. Sayre
11. Bee Dancer
12. Narice - new to Fun Monday!!
13. Big Momma
14. Herb of Grace - new to Fun Monday!!
15. Faye
16. Olive
17. Jessie
18. Hootin' Anni
19. Lil Mouse
20. SwampAngel - unfortunately her camera died.....
21. Janet
22. Gattina
23. Mommy Wizdom - our host for next week!!
24. Grace
25. Sauntering Soul
26. iPost
27. Tiggerlane
28. Karisma
29. Tanya
30. Judy
31. Melanie

A Soul at Rest, A Body in Motion

A Soul at Rest, A Body in Motion

A soul at rest, a body in motion –
This is my life, Lord, amid this commotion:
I have another tall mountain of laundry to wash
and
I hear another growing argument to squash
and
I have another dinner to make with flair and panache:

I know I can’t do it without You.

A soul at rest, a body in motion –
This is my heart, Lord, wrenched up in emotion:
Do I have solutions for problems that arise?
and
Do I have wisdom to disarm enemies in disguise?
and
Do I have enough love for the pain in their eyes?

I know I can’t do this without You.

A soul at rest, a body in motion
This is my prayer, Lord, with increasing devotion:
To know more of You and to help make You known
and
To ask you to soften my hard heart of stone
and
To live a life of love, honoring You alone:

I know I can’t do this without You.

My soul at rest, but my body in motion;
My heart filled with peace in loud, busy commotion.
Lord, bring Your power
This very hour:

I know I can’t do it without You.

jsi


“Jesus gently said, ‘Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and My burden is light.’” Matthew 11:28-30

“This is what the LORD says, ‘Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will have rest for your souls.” Jeremiah 6:16

“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want. He makes me to lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside quiet waters, He restores my soul.” Psalm 23:1-3

Fun Monday

Sports Fan Heather at hmckillip.blogspot.com is the host today...check out her link today. The theme is sports fans.


This is my first Fun Monday and sports pictures are a great find for our place.

I live in OH, so my football team...

...and my baseball team...
...are not doing so well.

I watch OSU football with a passion...



...and this is my absolute favorite part. I'm the kind of football fan that makes it to the field early for the preshow Marching Band and can hardly wait for the halftime show. I LOVE LOVE LOVE Script OHIO.

But by far, these are my favorite sports stars...



T. plays for Tri-County Cyclones, defensive wing...


A. plays striker for United Die soccer...



...N. plays for striker for G's Pizza...




...and K. runs like the wind on G's Pizza.

My camera is full of their action shots, and my schedule is full from their practice and games. But I wouldn't have it any other way.

Are you a sports fan? Who are your favs?

Now, go check out everyone else's allegiances or share your own!Players:1. Tanya2. Judysteapot3. Hootin' Anni4. Rayne5. Gattina6. Ali7. Grace8. Storyteller9. HulaGirlAtHeart10. Chrisb11. jsi12. Swampangel6513. karmyn r14. Alison15. Jan16. Swampy17. {i}post18. debs19. sauntering soul20. robocop21. beedancer22. margaret23. tiggerlane24. Mommywizdom25. kitten

More and More of Me

Holy Spirit, sanctify my heart
This inner house, every room,
Reclaim every part.
Take my sin: forgive it –
It stands in the way.
Take my doubt: dissolve it –
Restore me, I pray.
Help me to see
It is not for me
To have more and more of You:
But instead,
You will have
More and more of me.


Holy Spirit, sanctify my heart
Transform every corner,
I need a new start.
Teach me to practice
Your Presence today;
An authentic role
With no masks for this play.
Help me to see
It is not for me
To have more and more of You:
But instead,
You will have
More and more of me.


Immanuel, God with us
You are the gift of God.
Immanuel, God with us
Holy Spirit, Immanuel.


Holy Spirit, sanctify my heart
Re-energize my joy
In salvation’s part.
Take my care, my anxiety,
My burdens, this strife:
Spirit, stoop to my weakness,
Strengthen my life.
Help me to see
It is not for me
To have more and more of You:
But instead,
You will have
More and more of me.

Holy Spirit, sanctify my heart
Clean hands, clean thoughts,
Clean words – every part.
Set my mind
On things above,
Teach me how
To live in love.
Show me Your most excellent way!
Teach me, lead me, Holy Spirit today!

Help me to see
It is not for me
To have more and more of You:
But instead,
You will have
More and more of me.

jsi

“Jesus kindly said to his disciples, ‘If you love me, you will obey what I command. And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Counselor to be with you forever – the Spirit of truth. The world cannot accept him, because it neither sees him nor knows him. But you know him, for he lives within you. I will not leave you as orphans. All this I have spoken while still with you. But the Counselor, the Holy Spirit whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you. Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.’” John 14:15-18; 25-27 NIV

Friendship Zone

Friendship Zone

The playground carousel accelerates
Children grasping tight until
Around and around with blazing speed–
Spinning, racing faster still.
With blurring colors, dizzy vision
An un-grounding, shout-sounding heart-pounding thrill.

Each brave soul jumps, holding firmly
Because of the ever-increasing speed.
Filling one spot after another
Hoping the pace will not exceed
What they can take – “Hey, don’t stand alone!
Sit next to me! A friend is what we need!”

.
A friend who shares, who sits right there,
Who knows just what you’re going through.
A friend who knows you and always shows you
Their friendship is honest and strong and true.

Round and round our life is moving
At blazing speed, racing faster still.
With blurring colors, dizzy vision
“Can I survive this all until
I get to jump off? I’m not strong – I’m not sure:
I can’t do this alone, this long walk uphill.”

Each brave soul jumps, holding firmly
Because of the ever-increasing speed
Searching for another person
Hoping this ride will not exceed
What they can take – “Hey, room for another!
A friend is what both you and I need!”

A friend who shares, who sits right there,
Who knows just what you’re going through.
A friend who knows you and always shows you
Their friendship is honest and strong and true.

We need each other, intensely, immensely;
We were never meant to live life alone.
We are called in this life to know God -
And we have the privilege to help make Him known.
Included into this blurring carousel ride of life
Is the astounding, heart-pounding friendship zone.
jsi





Does someone around you need a real tried and true friend today?
Be the breath of God to someone's heart: bring hope, be a friend.

Love each other deeply.

God is love. When we take up permanent residence in a life of love, we live in God and God lives in us. This way, love has the run of the house, becomes at home and matures in us, so that we’re free of worry on the Judgment Day – our standing in the world is identical with Christ’s. There is no room in love for fear. Well-formed love banishes fear. Since fear is crippling, a fearful life – fear of death, fear of judgment – is one not fully formed in love.

We though, are going to love – love and be loved. First we were loved, now we love. He loved us first.

If anyone boasts, “I love God,” and goes right on hating his brother or sister, thinking nothing of it, he is a liar. If he won’t love the person he can see, how can he love the God he can’t see? The command we have been give from Christ is blunt: Loving God includes loving people. You’ve got to love both.
1 John 4:16-21 The Message

Write-in Vote for Worst Mother of the Year Award

The bubbles ascend lightly within the giant fish tank, with their gentle calming rhythm enticing an outsider to wonder like the incredible Mr. Limpit, “What would it be like to be…oh I wish, I wish I were a fish.” Inside the enormous tank is a varied collection of fishes, and their fin patterns and swimming technique are intriguing. Fish do not have a care in the world. Fish live in a serene and quiet existence. Fish don’t need x-rays for broken bones. My little man N. likes the all-black fish with a bright orange tail. “What kind do you think he is, mommy?” His questions pull me out of my distracted, questioning mind and try to find a good name for some fish that carries enough pride to wear our school district’s colors with such definitive pride.

Fish tanks are always in the Emergency Room waiting area for very specific reasons and they always perform their amazing magic for my children, doing exactly what they are supposed to do in a time of stress, questioning and pain. They distract and calm patient and parent, both in pain for different reasons. It’s Saturday night, very late, and we have finally returned home from a church Family Day at our church camp in the Atwood Lake region. We were there with several people from our corps and 47 other corps – hundreds and hundreds of people, and great fun on a terrific weather day. Right after lunch we trekked up to the top of the hill: I was a chaperone available for the large, inflatable games, three that were high and exciting, and promising great fun. There were several adults present to insure safety for all, I was one of them and the still the worst possible result happened for my little man.

He is such an athletic boy, who is always moving – never walking, always running. He got to the slide long before I did, and by the time he finished one ride he was complaining of pain in his foot. “It really hurts, mom.” So I gave him my bottle of cold water and chair, and quietly reached for my Tic Tacs…it has always worked before. He has never needed much dramatic care when it comes to boo boos. He has always worn his pain on his sleeve, using a big cry since he was a toddler, letting you know that something is wrong. But all he has ever needed to do was show it to me, let me rub it, take a drink and tell me how it happened and then accept a Tic Tac. (yes I use placebos, and he is my #1 success rate. Tic Tacs are the most amazing over the counter, “don’t need a prescription to get rid of the pain” kind of medicine magic!) For him, the biggest healing power has always been the telling of his story, many times re-enacting the event, which has been an insight to his perspective and how he sees the world. I even took a few pictures of his foot, mostly for him to see the comparison that there was no swelling yet. Within minutes, he’d be bouncing off with my tried and true Dr. Mom diagnosis: “You’ll be fine and dandy like alligator candy.”

Well, Mr. Fine and Dandy was not eating alligator candy this day. But he was brave and strong, limping slightly through the rest of the hour on the hill, limping noticeably throughout the rest of the day. He went swimming, canoeing, and walked over 5 miles since 1:15 and we would check with him about the progress his foot was feeling. A few more Tic Tacs and a little pep talk, “it will feel better soon.” Usually the impact pain has long gone and things are just a little sore. I don’t want to say I didn’t believe my little man, but he can be very dramatic to emphasize a point or try to let you know he doesn’t want to do something.

So here we sit in the ER hours and hours later and as I describe the timeline to these doctors I feel convicted that it has been over 8 hours from when he said that it hurt and when I really took him seriously. That timeline was my responsibility. My child. My calling to be his caregiver. Why is he the one who always has to wait? Why am I always underestimating the pain or damage he is in? Why do my children always get hurt when they are with me, never with anyone else?

The fish circle and dive and my heart is forever questioning my capability to be a mom: second-guessing everything I do and the reasons why. As he is entranced with these fish, I am entranced with him: he who has forgiven me for so many mistakes and errors, loss of temper or forgetful memory. He is the one of my children who has stopped my heart so many times: He didn’t thrive at birth, instead stubbornly not gaining weight. Born at 8 pounds even, he was 11 pounds at 7 months old and wasn’t placed on a normal growth chart until age 6. His RSV at 16 months was treated as a cold for three days (because it was the final stretch to Christmas Distribution) until I was startled by his coloring. (I called our pediatrician during Distribution and got a sick appointment for 4:00 p.m. that day and 4:17 my babe in arms was admitted into the hospital – I should have taken that cold more seriously.) He was #3 in our TANK, and I was very overwhelmed with his presence. He wasn’t the baby anymore when he was merely 17 months old, vacating the crib for a baby sister, expected to grow up over night. I was happy and floating off the ground with him in my life, but overwhelmed nonetheless. Dave and I were outnumbered by the little people in our lives and I was trying very hard (and succeeding and failing publicly) at keeping it all together.

His body is a story of scars and near-death events, which he relished telling the Radiologist doctor who was transporting him to the x-ray room. (Right here on my chin…over here on my arm…this spot on my head…these stitches right here…) Men love to tell their scar stories, they revel in it, and in this doctor N. had an enthusiastic active listener. The doctor showed N. his own scars and told his stories, too, emphasizing N. strength and bravery. Mommies kiss the boo boos, but these men, they retell the injury with death-defying valor and courage, emphasizing the great strength (or stupidity) it took to face the event.

So going home with a promise to call with a further consultation, it is a fractured foot that I had him walking around all day on. A broken bone medicated with pep talks and Tic Tacs. He has another story to tell - he's weirdly excited. I, on the other hand, want to crawl under a rock.

I am the write in vote for the Worst Mother of the Year award.

Trust or Worry

I know God will not give me anything I can’t handle. I just wish He didn’t trust me so much. ~Mother Teresa of Calcutta

There is only one way to happiness and that is to cease worrying about things which are beyond the power of our will. ~ Epictetus

The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them. ~Ernest Hemingway

What worries you, masters you. ~John Locke

It is impossible to trust and worry at the same time. ~ Lt. Colonel Judy LaMarr

My heart is wrapped with chords

Harmonizing with other hearts;
Singing a fresh, unique song.
Resonating “I trust you”,
Echoing sure and strong.

My heart is wrapped in layers
Of people, places, detailed faces:
Memories deep and clear.
Friendship with its depth
Love that is sincere.

My heart is wrapped in trust
Worry tries to build a home there -
Worry is my temptation.
Worry is not trust, concern or love:
It’s a greedy, desperate imitation.

My heart is wrapped in prayer
When worry makes appearances
Prayer is my strength-filled conversation.
“God is in charge COMPLETELY!”
God’s peace disarms hesitation.

“Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 4:4-7 NIV

Coming up for air

My heart was pumping faster and faster: it felt as if it was pounding through my chest. You know, like in the cartoons when a scared person (or duck or rabbit or rooster for that matter) has their heart pounding out far away from their body. Well, that was me. I was stinking scared, and it was the whole entire enchilada: sweat on my neck, trembling hands, dry mouth, goosebumps - you name it. I took a few kids to the cinema in our area to see the movie Journey to the Center of the Earth. First - we loved it. Second, I haven't been scared like that in years. I was rotating little people in my lap (hah, I wasn't the only one scared!) I rarely like a movie adaptation of a literary story...but I loved this one. Read the book and go and see it.

One scene in the movie fully describes my summer: when three of the characters landed in a deep pool of water. I don't know about you, but when I see a movie when people go under water, I try to see how long I can hold my breath. If they aren't able to breathe air, they are trying to get to the surface. Could I do it? So they are under water, and I am holding my breath...and not making it to the surface before I had to take a breath. Man alive, I would have drowned or needed someone to reach down and draw me up to the surface.

I feel like the activity of this summer has been like that deep pool and my attempts to stay above water have been a hard fight. It has all been edifying and fantastic, but very full. July has been a kicker! I have taken 16 tests this month, written 20 book reports, read about 4,500 pages, and I still have 20 pages to type for two papers. We have had 5 baseball tournament games, Music and Arts camp, several women's ministry and youth ministry events. I have packed and unpacked and repacked suitcase after suitcase, and the laundry from that should never be counted (it would only lead to depression!) I have driven over 5,000 miles, written about 17 poems, 12 sermons and played about 10,000 notes. I have painted 400 nails, and needed to sunscreen dozens of young ones. There has been tie die and balloons and Jesus songs. My pointer finger on my right hand has developed a callus from camera shutter button overuse.

I practice a new Spanish sentence each week...actually that was a new sentence of mine.

Aprendos una nueva oracions en el espanol cada semane.

This week is very poignant...El amor no mira con los ojos, sino con el alma. William Shakespeare
Love looks not with the eyes but the soul. William Shakespeare

I have finished a blanket, a sweater, a cross stitch project and 4 pillows.

I typically post on xanga and eblogger, trying to make sure it happens in the same day. But today's post included a ton of pics, and I'm including the link to my xanga because it would take me an additional hour to complete. And, sorry, time's of the essence right now. So consider this an invitation: follow the link over for the photos.


http://xanga.com/lifeisjoy

Have a great Sunday of worship with the God of Divine Hope.

Jersey #24

The day starts off early with a quiet breakfast and Bible time at the kitchen table (Psalm 106). I make a decaf latte – espresso, steamed milk, sugar free vanilla and sugar free caramel and it was smooth and well-rounded. (T. likes it so much he’s made it “his drink” – the T. special.) I am not alone, but the rest of the house was still snoring softly, each found in their own favorite, comfortable positions. T. is on right side, head covered by blanket, one leg out, one sock on. A. is flat on her back, covers to her chin, like she is waiting for her Prince Charming to give her the kiss which will bring her awake. N. is flat on his back, pillow under his back, neck arched, mouth WIDE open like a Venus Fly Trap awaiting its unsuspecting prey. K. is in a tight ball, on her left side hugging her blanket.

They are so precious when they are sleeping, they take my breath away. Their schedule has been very packed with the baseball/softball schedule, and my TANK has been up late each night this week – 11:30 p.m., 11:45 p.m. From one game or another, some in different cities, some at home, we have been finding ourselves getting home long after dark and long after an acceptable bed time. So they are not the usual early risers they had been during the school year.

I have bowls on the table ready for breakfast cereal, and one by one they appear, still warm from sleep. (This morning’s order K., A., N., T.) Now that they are all awake, our morning will begin. The list of chores is set, ready for someone to sign up and complete, and when they are finished the rest of the day is free for them, so they try to get it done before 11.(One of the chores is making mom a latte – I am no dummy! I got a twofer!!! And T. loves making them.) Words of encouragement help stop the brewing argument, “But I want to get to clean the bathroom, it’s my favorite job!” by knowing there is a bathtub over here that needs cleaning. “Oh great!” they say with excitement and run off, and I am left in a quizzical query, “Could that really be my boy?” I leave to go pick up the bread donations from the two bakeries in town and then I have a scheduled dental cleaning and check up.

I don’t know about you, but I really like going to the dentist; I always have. My dentist in this town has turned out to be my favorite of the past 18 years, for many reasons, and they love my Salvation Army insurance because they get paid so promptly and sufficiently. They make sure they compliment me every time I am there, whether myself or with my TANK, about the very thorough and inclusive medical protection offered under the umbrella of my insurance. I have to agree with them.

So I arrive slightly early and sit with my book: I have been looking forward to reading all week long. There hasn’t been a moment that stopped or even paused for these 14 days. Dave has been in Chicago for two weeks, and although I was glad my husband was able to receive such a blessed opportunity, it meant the fire under my schedule was going to get turned up.

On HIGH.

And not just regular HIGH, but Super Duper HIGH, like when the flames under the pasta pot are reaching out and up the sides of the cookware, with the contents boiling higher and higher, encroaching on the top and threatening to boil over. Reading helped pass the time lovingly and in what felt like no time, the dental hygienist Ms. Pearly Teeth calls my name and I follow her through the labyrinth to her workspace and find myself comfortable in the big dentist chair. It has been the first time my mind had been quiet for so long.

The lighting is not as bright as in the hallway, the view from the window is of a lush wooded area, and the music playing is soft. I feel relaxed already and don’t anticipate anything unusual to happen in this visit, just a cleaning and a new toothbrush and free floss. She is a quiet soul, who attends straight to her work after only a few sentences of conversation.

I can hear Ingrid Michaelson’s music over the speaker, and I keep myself from humming so I can hear her; she has a pretty voice. “If you are chilly, here take my sweater.” Oh, I really like this love song from her recording that she did without a label. “Your head is aching, I’ll make it better.” In my imagination I see her video of clowns and one person who is not a clown and sequentially not accepted because of the difference. “Cuz I love the way you call me baby” the bridge, the rhythm, the clapping. “For you take me the way I am.” And then it happened. And I couldn’t stop it.

The tears slid out, silently, running slowly down my cheek, and since my feet we elevated above my head, they went straight to each ear. First left, then right, then left again. I didn’t want to cry: I didn’t have time to cry. But there it was; and my ears were filling up like tiny swimming pools. Ms. Pearly Teeth was worried, “Did I hurt you? Was I too rough on your gums? Did I give you pain?” she asks quietly as she reaches for a Kleenex.

“No, please forgive me. You didn’t do anything wrong,” I strive to say with a steady voice, unsuccessfully masking the fact that I am thoroughly choked up.

“I must have given you too much time to think,” she shares, as she grabs another tissue for me and continues back to her inspection of my bicuspids and incisors and gums.

“For you take me the way I am.”

No, it isn’t the dental cleaning that has brought pain, but here is the first time I have had to reflect more about the pain this baseball season has been for my oldest, my T. It has been in the garbage can for so long, and the comparison between his ball team and ANK’s ball teams have been like night and day. A. plays in every game, and even though she isn’t a stellar athlete, she is in many positions and has been practicing pitching, from encouragement from her coach. N. has the world’s best coaching staff and has had a World Series Hall of Fame baseball season, excelling in so many ways especially as pitcher and catcher. (He is a kid-based ESPN highlight film every game: he plays outta his mind and I can’t keep his uniform clean from all of the grass and dirt stains from sliding and catching, etc.) K. is a fierce player, strong and decisive and has been a pitcher and 1st base all season. She hits, she bunts, she steals, she slides and she runs like the wind! Her coaches are over the moon about her and find ways to help her improve even more. (Last night they had her team party at the Alliance Salvation Army and she got the Best Attitude Award from her team – they love her and she loves them.)

And then there is T.s team.

T. has only played ½ of an inning in the month of June, and today’s date is June 26. He has played 15 minutes in the last 6 weeks, and that includes a few double headers in which he didn’t play for 16 innings. His coaches cruelly treat him like he is invisible, at practice and in games. This team has won and lost and they have done it all without him, exiling him and 2 other boys to the bench while the other 9 athletes are in the field every time, are in the batting lineup every time, are protected by the coaches to assure their play time every time. All of these other 9 are coach’s boys, or long-time friends of the family, These other 9 athletes, the “real team of starters” stay on the field even when they are hurt, limping, with sprained ankles, intense leg cramps or throwing up. There are no substitutes ever made for any of “the real players” even though the other benched athletes are ready and eager to be an active member of this team. It is not a team filled with elite athletes, but average kids who do well and also make mistakes.

“For you take me the way I am.” I have been longing for these coaches to take T. for who he is and let him be an active part of this team. Their behavior has passed unfair and stepped into treacherous, and they are in full authority of what they are doing. I have pleaded with them. My husband has talked with them, too. And for nothing, but another game without field or batting, another to add to the growing pile of disappointment.

T. has been to every practice possible and only missed a minimal amount of games, and those because they were scheduled at the last minute, for Memorial Day weekend which was a schedule conflict with the NEOSA BRASS performance weekend in Toledo. I have been so proud of him under this kind of terrible pressure – he feels terrible about the whole thing, and yet is still respectful to his coaches. He has lost his temper, but only a little in the privacy of his own room.

“For you take me the way I am.” When T. hurts, I feel a deep pain too, and am upset that I have not been able to persuade anyone to see it any different or do anything about it. I have been ineffective. I have been a failure. My new baseball friends on this team are embarrassed about being so excited about how much their athlete is playing, trying to hide it in my presence. I am excited about how well their boys are playing, too, especially when they are doing well. They have found it hard to sit around me, just as perplexed by these selfish coaching decisions, so I have frequently found myself following them to spend some time each game to talk and such. These selfish coaching decisions have made sure their sons play every inning of every game – an athlete’s dream. T. is a good athlete and loves hockey and loves baseball. Their seasons don’t conflict so up until now, he has had very good experiences in the spring with a baseball team. He hits well, he fields well, he throws well – as well as anyone else on this team, but these coaches won’t give him a second look. Or even a first look. He. Is. Invisible. My heart has been in conflict and torment over his burden.

So as Ms. Pearly Teeth returns the big dentist chair to its original locked and upright position, my ears now have the legitimate contents of the Erie Canal streaming out of each one onto my shirt, creating a very unique striping, zigzag pattern. It’s actually quite fetching, if it would have been intentional. She snags another tissue for me, with the concern, “I hope it will get better.” It won’t, I know that. T.’s baseball season lasts another 2 weeks, more games he won’t get to play, that his coaches won’t tell him why he won’t get to play. And they won’t take him the way he is – the magnificent, amazing, incredible man-in-training wearing a ball cap and jersey #24.

Hey Batter Batter, Hey Batter, Batter SWING!!

Things could be worse. Suppose your errors were counted and published every day, like those of a baseball player. ~Author Unknown

Ninety feet between home plate and first base may be the closest man has ever come to perfection. ~Red Smith

I believe in the Church of Baseball. I tried all the major religions and most of the minor ones. I've worshipped Buddha, Allah, Brahma, Vishnu, Siva, trees, mushrooms and Isadora Duncan. I know things. For instance, there are 108 beads in a Catholic rosary and there are 108 stitches in a baseball. When I learned that, I gave Jesus a chance. ~Ron Shelton, Bull Durham, 1988

Baseball, it is said, is only a game. True. And the Grand Canyon is only a hole in Arizona. ~George F. Will, Men at Work: The Craft of Baseball, 1990

You gotta be a man to play baseball for a living, but you gotta have a lot of little boy in you, too. ~Roy Campanella

Are you crying? Are you crying? ARE YOU CRYING? There's no crying! THERE'S NO CRYING IN BASEBALL! – Jimmy Dugan (Tom Hanks) in A League of Their Own

It has been a long, cold, wet, drizzling spring. The entire month of May found me on the ball field, trying to focus a camera despite my chattering teeth, wrapped up in winter coats, sweatshirts, gloves, hats, quilts and afghans. My trunk was always equipped with a few chairs and a few blankets. I looked like I was living out of my minivan and trying to camp on a glacier – oi. We had one game canceled because of snow! Other games were played with the mercury in the thermometer registering 49 degrees and 52 degrees. For four weeks our home was fighting ear infections, strep throat, the flu and upper respiratory infections. We were a sick bunch, and it all had to do with our ball games.

Our TANK each play on a ball team this year. A. and K. in the M. Fastpitch League and T. and N. are on A. Hot Stove. Even though this has been a new community and there is a new set of directions to fulfill, there is again a constant in our life: the spring baseball team.

March brought about a devastating reality from our school system: since the tax levy was not passed for nearly every school systems in the region, all schools would close their doors at 3:15 p.m. after school, not permitting any group to meet or have activities. This made a deep impact upon all of the ball teams through the M. Fastpitch and the A. Hotstove, who were now frantically searching for a place to have their indoor practice until the weather broke. (Our March brought at least 18” of snow, sleet and freezing sludge – there were no outdoor practices to be found.)

The Salvation Army gym in Alliance became a home for 11 teams, the only cost would be some canned goods from each team for the Army food pantry, and all revolving their practices about in a schedule which would make your head spin. (Alright, it made my head spin. Baseball and oodles of extra dinners, baseball and a gazillion pots of coffee, baseball and homework tutoring, baseball and computer lessons, baseball and Veggie Tale videos, baseball and Easter preparations, baseball and Bible activities, baseball and Bible coloring books, baseball and new client family intake at 7:30 p.m.) Not only was our family involved with several of these teams, but we were now hosts for the other teams. It felt like 350 people were through our building every week: families with toddlers we needed to divert from the action, young moms and dads and several children not in the gym.

It was demanding and thrilling, exciting and inspirational. Our spring took a ministry connection opportunity through this intriguing sport which includes balls, bats and gloves. Our War Cry piles dwindled, as did our other publications. God connections were made every day. “What are working on?” as an honest question from a mom or dad exposed the fact I was working on some homework from my Master’s classes. The testimony about God’s Word and theological topics were evangelical, intriguing and exciting. God and Creation delved into a testimony about God at work in our present world. God and Women explored being a vessel for God to work with and through. Jesus Christ as God and Man exposed various points, all questioning Jesus’ placement in our faith. God was at work, long before we could plan or schedule anything and God continued to inspire us and strengthen us.

Our ministry reach has deepened in this community because of baseball and softball – baseball has never been a hobby or pastime for us. My next couple posts will be centered around baseball – some terrific, some heart-wrenching, some joy-filled, some just plain mad. But all of it – every pitch, slide, strike, catch and ground rule double have been to the glory of God.

So, whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God. 1 Corinthians 10:31 NIV

Contagious

For Judy and Bill

Contagious

You walk in the room, just like everyone else
But there is a difference from you.
Instead of an impossible problem
You see a solution on the horizon:
A solution that will be worth the wait.
You hope unswervingly
And I find your hope…contagious.

You join in the conversation, just like everyone else
But there is a difference from you.
Instead of an impossible person,
You see a heart that is hurting:
A person who is worth the wait.
You love lavishly
And I find your love…contagious.

You are part of a team, just like everyone else
But there is a difference with you.
Instead of an impossible disappointment
You see a future cooperation:
A future that is worth the wait.
You encourage aggressively
And I find your encouragement…contagious.

You live your life, just like everyone else
But there is a difference with you.
Instead of impossible demands
You embrace life with joy:
A joy that is worth the wait.
You embrace joyfully
And I find your joy…contagious

God’s love works profoundly- deeply - through you.
God’s love is the difference with you.
Your spiritual hospitality
Continues to draw people close:
Close enough to see love at work.
Close to your heart, close to God.
I find God’s love through you…contagious.
jsi

This is what the LORD Almighty says: “In those days ten men from all languages and nations will take firm hold of one devout believer by the hem of his robe and say, ‘Let us go with you, because we have heard that God is with you.’” Zechariah 8:23, New International Version

The Month of May

Thirty days hath September, April, June, and November. All the rest have thirty-one excepting February alone. That has twenty-eight days clear, and twenty-nine in each leap year.

The first day of spring is one thing, and the first spring day is another. The difference between them is sometimes as great as a month. ~ Henry Van Dyke

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes...how do you measure, measure a year? Measure, measure your life in love: seasons of love. ~ From RENT, by Jonathan Larson

Tomorrow is a MYSTERY. Today is a GIFT...that's why its called "the PRESENT." ~ Unknown

As with most fine things, chocolate has its season. There is a simple memory aid that you can use to determine whether it is the correct time to order chocolate dishes: any month whose name contains the letter A, E, or U is the proper time for chocolate. ~ Sandra Boyton

In times like these, it is helpful to remember that there have always been times like these. ~ Paul Harvey

I contend the month of May
Has done its level best to kill me.
There’s little left to do or say
To dump or press or spill me.

The sequence of the line of days
From one into another
Left little time to breathe, or stroll
Or sit with one another.

A rollercoaster schedule
Has been blazing with its speed;
With sunrise of a brand, new day
“Lord, I need You!” is my creed.

There has not been a tear-free day
In the entire month collection,
Tears for anger, joy, despair and fear,
Confusion and affection.

I cannot say that if I knew
Just what each day would hold
That I would volunteer for every
Experience to unfold.

The mountaintops of joy and pride,
The valley lined with grief
Have left my soul gasping for
A secluded, closed relief.

To its credit the month of May
Has, with confidence and pride,
26 felonious attempts of premeditated
Calendar-icide.

But I’m still here, standing strong
With family, friends intact;
God has protected this ferocious time
His foundation has not cracked.

I contend the month of May
Has done its level best to kill me
There’s 5 days left –
Breath in deep –
God’s strength will need to fill me.

jsi


This is the day that the LORD has made; I will rejice and be glad in it. Psalm 118:24

Check out my Slide Show!

God Himself Sings Over You

Catch the rhythm from Heaven-
Hear the melody plain.
Linger through the lyrics
Of the hope-filled refrain;
With delight and great joy
And unlimited love:
God Himself sings over you.

God Himself sings over you
With a song that is vibrant and true
Composed and transformed
And for you it’s performed:
God Himself sings over you.

Let His music surround you-
Hear His voice say your name.
Stop and listen to His love song
As it covers the frame
Of your heart with His purpose
And plan for your life:
God Himself sings over you.

There is no other voice
In Heaven’s domain
That sings. Only God,
And He’s singing your name.
The angels and demons
Call, shout, speak, say and claim
But God Himself sings over you.

Listen to the song
That He sings just for you.
His performance for one
Composed original and new.
With delight and great joy
And unlimited love,
God Himself sings over you.

jsi

The LORD, the king of Israel, is with you; never again will you fear any harm.
On that day they will say to Jerusalem, "Do not fear, O Zion; do not let your hands hang limp.
The LORD your God is with you, He is mighty to save.
He will take great delight in you, He will quiet you with His love,
He will rejoice over you with singing.
Zephaniah 3:15b-17

An Excellent Life

I feel all thin, sort of stretched, if you know what I mean: like butter that has been scraped over too much bread. That can’t be right.” ~ Bilbo Baggins, The Fellowship of the Ring, J.R.R. Tolkien

It is the ordinary duties and labors of life that the Christian can and should develop his spiritual union with God. ~ Thomas Merton

And this our life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything. ~ William Shakespeare

Life is like playing a violin solo in public and the learning the instrument as one goes on. ~ Samuel Butler

Four-fifths of all our troubles would disappear, if we could only sit down and keep still. ~ Calvin Coolidge

The spring breeze gently wafts across the softball field which is next to a pasture which is still populated with remnant corn stalks from last autumn’s bountiful harvest. The warmed ground is beginning to show signs of new life, sprouting growth and tender green shoots which are tempting to the rabbits and young deer. The fragrance of spring is pungent: the hyacinth with its heady bouquet, the daily showers with their cleansing deluge, and oh, the pastures. The predictable activity of the farmers with the warming weather, they have begun fertilizing their square miles of acreage with rural perfection. As I drive from piano lesson to baseball practice to softball practice, I cannot avoid the amount of rural activity which happens so close to my home. There is a strong perfume, a pasture perfume, and its smells incredible to me, but it can also knock you off your feet and grab your attention. Whoa!

Our life is deeply centered within a rural setting and the signs of spring bring a compelling activity to prompt growth from the soil and from the pasture. Lambing season is always the first signs of new birth on a farm, and the local fields now have baby lambs grazing with mothers, learning and running and tripping in their tiny attempts to figure out their life. There is no quick traffic, for several farmers have their large machines which join traffic and maneuver their left turns with greater cumbrance than my small van, and it is important to drive patiently and cautiously when they are included with other traffic which wants to drive at 70 mph. The size of these large tractors and combines with their enormous attachments for plowing, seeding, ground breaking and tilling is phenomenal as they can occupy ¾ of the road for the 1 mile they need travel to enter the other side of the farm to work again. The blades and back hoes, giant bucket and flat beds with giant spinners – they really do look incredible.

A few families on our 2 softball teams are farmers – cattle and corn – and they have been describing the daily life they tackle, embrace and live every day. Yesterday was a day in which the dairy farmers had purchased another 30 cows to add to their 130 head. I don’t even have a dog and this family has over 160 cows – AMAZING! The feeding. Milking. Mucking. Examination for injury or infection within the hooves. Management of the dry cows, who are pregnant and preparing for delivery. There is a short time in the afternoon, when all of the animals are cared for which allows for personal duties, then softball practice, and then it begins again.

I typically arrive at softball or baseball practice from a hectic day, typically sending some of my children with their coaches so I can make it to one practice. I’ll get to another practice for another child on another day. Dinner is an early, quick and light affair (we eat about 4:30 in baseball season, and really, no one wants to try to turn a double play with a stomach filled with mashed potatoes and gravy.) We’ll have a snack before we go to bed, so even though we are more hungry than usual, everything will be fine. My office work and ministry keep my days filled and moving, my graduate studies keep a book in my hand at every open moment, my children’s schedule keep me on the constant move.

But I don’t have anything in my life that is close to the demanding schedule that these farm families encounter. If I’m still awake at 11:00 p.m. it has frequently been my choice of how to use my time (i.e. it is easier to get school or office work completed after the kids are in bed) but for this dairy farm family it is 11:00 p.m. from the second feeding and milking of the herd and barn.

When describing her schedule, M. was trying to be as positive as possible but was quite discouraged by others who were complaining about “how busy life is”. I had been listening to these conversations as closely as I could, aware that I haven’t been to many of A. practices and that I am still new to many of these moms. I had stated that “It must be exhilarating and exhausting to be involved with sustaining new life everyday. Its God’s work and it can take everything you have to be involved with it.” She didn’t say anything then, but later as we waited for our darlings, who were now covered in mud, she stopped and shared a smile and gratitude for hearing what she was saying and understanding that farming for them isn’t just a trade, or a trained vocation or exclusively a chance to provide food. It is their family’s connection to God’s activity. Spring tilling, and planting and large animal birthing has kept them from being able to be at church recently, and her soul was hungry to hear from God.

My Bible present, a few minutes to share: “Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom, and as you sing psalms, hymns and spiritual songs with gratitude in your hearts to God. And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through Him.” Colossians 3:15-17, NIV

It is a privilege to share in God’s activity and honor Him with everything we do. We give thanks to God for our life by using each aspect of our life to praise and worship Him with excellence. Embrace the realm of life you have, whether it is defined by a cubicle or the back 40, and do everything you can with excellence. Frost those cupcakes with excellence. Return that fax with excellence. Tend to each patient with thorough excellence. Complete the curriculum parameters with excellence. Answer the office demands with excellence. Get the dry cleaning, return the library books, and complete the grocery shopping with excellence. Write that sermon with excellence. Feed the livestock with excellence. Complete the sale of that house with excellence. Clean the bathtub and complete the laundry with nothing short of excellence. God is honored with excellence!

Practice Makes Permanent

"An ounce of practice is worthy more than a ton of preaching." ~ Mahatma Gandhi

"We learn by practice. Whether it means to learn to dance by practicing dancing or to learn to live by practicing living, the principles are the same. One becomes in some area an athlete of God." ~ Martha Graham

As you put into practice the qualities of patience, punctuality, sincerity and solitude, you will have a better opinion of the world around you." ~ Grenville Klaiser

"Practice is everything. This is often misquoted as 'Practice makes perfect.' " ~ Periander

"Cab drivers are living proof that practice does not make perfect." ~ Howard Ogden

"They say practice makes perfect. Of course it doesn't. For the vast majority of golfers it merely consolidates imperfection." ~ Henry Longhurst

Our home is filled with a variety of people grasping new skills, trying to learn something new, or sharpen a skill which has been used again and again. The mantra of my life lately has been, "Practice does not make perfect; practice makes permanent." This has really hit home with A. as she draws closer and closer to her Harpsichord recital.

The harpsichord is an older sister of the piano, and though constructed in a similar manner, it is VERY different from the piano touch that A. has grown to know and love. The piece that was chosen was waaaay harder than she had ever seen before and looking at the amount of notes, you could see the tears of frustration already in her eyes. "You can do this, dear," her teacher encouraged wisely, "you can do this, a little at a time. But you have to practice the small details, every time you sit down at the bench. Practice doing the little things right, not the speed, not the million notes...but your posture, the curve your fingers and wrists. This rhythm is the same, whether the tempo is fast or slow."

These are two videos of her hard work, and her deep concentration and pleasure from the benefit of determined practice. I am so proud of her!




My ears are not deaf, I hear her mistakes, her misfingering in a phrase here and there. But my ears are very forgiving, hearing her progress, hearing her hard work, hearing her practice. Practice makes permanent means if you practice something again and again, it will become the way it is performed again and again. Whether it is right or not, it has been permanently applied into the habitual response and learning. Practice something wrong, and it will remain wrong and will be harder to unlearn and reteach.

Practice makes permanent is not excessively tied to music performance or turning a double play or learning 25 Greek words. Practice makes permanent reaches into the spiritual discipline a believer exercises. Jesus taught His disciples many things, and underscored for them how important it was to continue to practice them.

Do this:
Forgive yourself
Love one another
Forgive each other's failures
Serve each other
Pray with passion and fervor
Remember the poor
Tell everyone about God' love
Repent
Heal
Reach out to those who are hanging out on limbs around you
Speak the language of love
Run out to greet those who have been lost and have returned
Rejoice
Celebrate
Jesus helps us to know it is important to practice our faith. Practice makes permanent. Practice sharing verses from Romans with someone who needs to hear the story of salvation. Does evangelism make your palms sweat and your heart pump?

Practice including conversations about God in your conversations with the people you care about. Share the love God has for the world, woven with forgiveness and mercy. Practice it everyday. How about this? Make a pact with yourself to tell someone - anyone - about God everyday and ask God to guide who that may need to be. By practicing the discipline of evangelism, you are being included into God's work and God's presence will be your deepest blessing.

Practice makes permanent. Practice a spiritual discipline today. God is with you, every step of the way.

"As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love. I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete.

This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you. I do not call you servants any longer, because the servant does not know what the master is doing; but I have called you friends, because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father.

You did not choose me but I chose you. And I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last, so that the Father will give you whatever you ask him in my name. I am giving you these commands so that you may love one another." John 15:9-17

I Saw Beauty First Through Her Eyes

I saw beauty first through her eyes.
How do you know if someone loves butter?
“With this buttercup.”
How do you know God is an artist?
“This rainbow is made with watercolors.”
How did you know what I would look like before I was born?
“You whispered a song to my heart
And it made me smile.”

I saw beauty first through her eyes.
Standing in her closet, wearing her highest of heels.
I had already borrowed her teeny Copper Penny lipstick
Telling myself, “This must be mine: see how small it is.”
Practicing to be pretty
In a cloud of her Chantilly Lace and Shalimar.

I saw beauty first through her eyes.
My hands touch the silks held gently on the hangers
In ROY G. BIV order; tops mixed with bottoms.
Golds with browns, green with blues.
These match and THESE do not.
Practicing to be pretty
In a blue rayon dress, a string of pearls and a feather hat.

I saw beauty first through her eyes.
How does a lady act?
“If you can’t say something nice, don’t say nuttin’ at all.”
How does a lady walk in these high heels?
“Always on your toes looking ahead, never down.”
Will I be pretty?
“You have always been beautiful,
inside and out.”

I saw beauty first through her eyes.

Now I see beauty through my own.
The chords on the piano linger, in familiar fanfare
And we stand and turn to see her,
The bride, waiting at the end of the aisle.
Anticipating. Eager. Lingering. Patient. Nervous.
Her blue dress accents the deep blue of her eyes.
The hope-filled eyes of this bride – my mom.

I see beauty.

jsi

What matters is not your outward appearance - the styling of your hair, the jewelry you wear, the cut of your clothes - but your inner disposition. Cultivate inner beauty, the gentle, gracious kind that God delights in. The holy women of old were beautiful before God that way, and were good loyal wives to their husbands. 1 Peter 3:3-5 The Message

So don't lose a minute in building on what you have been given, complementing your basic faith with good character, spiritual understanding, alert discipline, passionate patience, reverent wonder, warm friendliness, and generous love, each dimension fitting into and developing the others. With these qualities active and growing in your lives, no grass will grow under your feet, no day will pass without its reward as you mature in your in your experience of our Master Jesus. 2 Peter 1:6-9 The Message