My daughter is here with these little munchkins, so I am going to be a very busy Nana this week!
I’m going to take some time off the blog to concentrate on being present for all the fun.
See you back here on July 7th, okay? It’s a date!
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I took this photo in a church yard in Arizona. I was so struck by the faith of the people who attached their prayers and hopes to these crosses, and then lifted them to the cross of Christ.
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Linking today with: The Weekend Brew and Scripture and a Snapshot
When we finally got to experience the spring weather, I went around to a few stores to pick out some flowers for my yard. I even got a new rosebush. My husband doesn’t like to pay for the kind of plants “that don’t come back” so every year we buy something that will regrow in the spring. Last year it was a hydrangea, this year a rose.
Because it’s been so hot lately, I’ve been adding fertilizer and watering quite a bit. It’s amazing how dry the dirt gets day to day if we don’t get rain. I’m out in the yard every evening, making sure the plants are happy and standing up straight. So far, so good. But I know if I go without watering, even for a few days, the plants will suffer.
Fertilizer and water are essential nutrients for plants. No nutrients means no growth. No flowering. No life.
My soul is a lot like those flowers in the backyard. The Lord created my soul and planted it in me the day I was born. Like the flowers, it needs to grow and bloom and radiate joy. My soul needs the same daily attention the plants get, so it can stand up and thrive. Without consistent care, it will shrivel up and lose the power to fill my life with radiant joy.
Prayer is water to the soul. Our private and group prayers invite the Lord to come and renew and refresh the relationship we have with him. As my prayer is lifted up to the heavens, the Lord releases a healing rain of grace to soak deeply into my spirit. I can stand up taller and shine even brighter because of his nurturing. Without prayer, this vital life-giving connection breaks, and my soul weakens and bends.
Good works are the fertilizer of the soul. Faith is essential, but faith without works will not last. Flowers need nutritious soil to be strong, and so do we. Every act of kindness and mercy adds stability and strength to the core of the soul. I need that strength.
The garden of the soul needs the grace of good works daily so that when storms come, I am not left uprooted and lost. It’s easy to stand tall in good weather. When life is skating along without any trouble, anyone can be strong. The challenge comes in dealing with difficulty. Responding with faith and strength to darkened skies and the sound of thunder takes a lot of stamina. Serving others with a cheerful heart will give me all the grace and power I’ll need to get through any crisis.
I enjoy working in my flower garden, and it reminds me to work in my soul garden too. As I sit back and watch the flowers grow and bloom, I imagine the Lord smiling at me while he nourishes the thriving interiors of my soul.
Water and fertilizer. Prayer and good works. Powerful tools for a healthy and growing garden plot in my yard…and in the garden of my soul.
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Linking today with: Celebrate Joy
I looked over to the next row of treadmills and I saw her.
A young woman was trotting on the belt at a pretty good clip. She was leaning forward, knees bent…really working hard. But what caught my eye was the backpack. She had a medium-sized pouch slung across the middle of her back.
“Hmm..what’s that all about?” I thought to myself. Maybe she forgot to bring a lock for her locker. Then it came to me. Duh! She was adding extra weight to make her workout harder. Carrying extra pounds would make her heart beat faster, and buildup more leg muscle too. What an ingenious idea. Like ankle weights for your back.
She could have done her workouts with out the extra burden. But she knew it wouldn’t have been as effective. It would have taken longer to achieve the level of fitness she was aiming for, if she’d get there at all.
Do you remember watching astronauts come out of their capsules after being in space for weeks or months? They had been living in a totally weightless environment. The pull of gravity, which we take for granted, was enough to buckle their knees. All that time without stress on their muscles made them so weak they couldn’t stand.
This young woman and the astronauts were not the first to see the benefits of burdens.
Wandering around this earth without any worries or concerns probably sounds really good. We see stresses and burdens as the short way to a head of gray hair and acid reflux disease. Yet, God sees oceans of good in our struggles. He doesn’t want us living our lives with weak spiritual muscles.
The tension between our human tendencies and our spiritual needs is like our gravity. That push and pull is always there. Efforts to balance the needs of the body and the desire of the soul will never go away.
But God wants you more fully at home with him. He knows you are capable of becoming a powerhouse witness for him. So…out comes the backpack. I don’t know what’s in yours. Mine has all my worries, the financial struggles, anger, problems with the kids…there’s a lot in there. It doesn’t feel very good. My backpack is so heavy sometimes it sags down to my knees.
But there is Good News. The Lord wants to be my Spiritual Trainer. He doesn’t ever leave me alone with my burden. He’ll help me carry the pack, while getting me into spiritual shape. So I guess I’ll hike up that sagging pack and get on my back again. Like that young lady on the treadmill, pretty soon I’ll be running with purpose and strength.
“Shoulder my yoke and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart…Yes, my yoke is easy and my burden light.” Matthew 11:30
Only God can make my burdens easy. As he helps me carry my load, I become strong enough to do great things. I was never meant to carry my backpack alone. Neither are you. So let’s surrender all those heavy things to the Lord. We’ll be ready to run the race like a champion. Because our Trainer really is.
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Don’t listen to the loud voices that insist and push and shame.
Listen to the small one inside that tells you who you are, and how loved you are.
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I remember seeing the commercials when I was a young mom. Rapturously happy mothers diapering their children. The wrinkled brow of concern on the mom in the perfectly ironed nightgown as she delivers cough medicine to her adorable son in the night. And who can forget that squeezable teddy bear who sold bottles and bottles of Snuggle fabric softener? According to him, I’ll practically want to take a bath in that stuff. Don’t even get me started on Mop ‘n Glo.
Now we all know that life is not perfectly diapered, ironed or softened. Psh. Who dreams up these commercials? Come and take a look at my life for a while. That would be a real-life messy adventure. But those companies knew what they were doing. My life wasn’t like their commercials, but they knew that in my weaker moments, I wished it was. So controlled. So ordered. So clean! A little voice in my head asked me why my floor isn’t that clean. How come my kids gag on cough medicine? Come to think of it, I don’t even use fabric softener…
My life was cluttered and a little chaotic. My kitchen floor sported a cloudy, spilled-milk sheen. I’d balance my checkbook while the laundry piled up and the kids keep forgetting where the door jambs were. I mean, I think they forgot. They kept walking into them, what other explanation can there be? And worst of all, Calgon refused to ‘take me away.’
Sometimes, those little commercials made me feel like I was failing. Like I wasn’t doing this mother thing right. The TV children always looked cleaner, were more polite and had permanent smiles stuck to their faces. Fortunately, I never felt that way for long. Soon I’d come to my senses, and realize that all the Supermoms and Superkids lived in the same talking box that the Snuggle Teddy Bear did. They weren’t real.
That aura of TV perfection is a myth. It doesn’t exist. For me, that was a comforting thought. And not only am I not perfect, I’m not attracted to people who either think they are, or pretend they are either. Although I might have fleeting dreams of hanging out with Mr. Clean and Betty Crocker, I don’t look for that in my friends. Not only is perfection intimidating, it’s boring.
Got issues? Got milk…on the floor? Do you have un-perfect kids and laundry out the wazoo? I’ll be right over. Let’s have a cup of, well, whatever you have. I know you didn’t have time to get to the store yet. I’ll take the mug with the cartoon character on it. Wonder Woman belongs on that mug, because she sure doesn’t live at my house.
Please don’t try to hide any messes. You can talk about your problems. That’s what I like about you. If I can do that with you too, I’ve got a feeling that we’ll be friends for a very long time.
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My silent prayer time had come to an end. The Lord had left me with one question as I opened my eyes and shifted my body.
“What really touches you?”
In other words, what do I see or experience that reaches the core of my soul? Not just something that makes me smile, like the sight of a little kitten. But sights and sounds that resonate deeply. The things that stir the God-place in me and make me feel a unity with the world and it’s maker. Sometimes it’s a fleeting feeling, like quick puff of wind. Other times it’s a longer and more peaceful, like ceaseless waves that curl and roll over me.
I know it when I feel it. But naming what causes this feeling of union wasn’t easy. But I finally could list a few things. Reverence. A slow, thoughtful sign of the cross. The head in hands in the pew after everyone else is gone. The person reading a faith-based book on a park bench. A mother teaching her child to pray. A woman guiding her elderly mother down the aisle to find that brand of makeup she always uses.
Witnessing these things is like finding hidden gifts of love tucked into the hour shaped folds of my day. They bring tears to my eyes. I feel so inspired by the faith and kindness of these moments. Because honestly, life can look a lot different.
Outside the walls of church on Sunday, lies a world that moves like a streaking arrow from the morning alarm buzz to the nightly news. Being busy is not a bad thing. Busy people are often the most effective. But what troubles me is the often self absorbed attitude in all that activity. The lane changing to move up one more car length. The rush to the newly opened cash register. Even the dash home from church can lead to some “me first” moves in the parking lot. These attitudes are not going to touch my soul and make me soar.
That person on the park bench reading is showing me that there are many, many people who want to do better. Who want to try harder. The man in the pew is showing me that there are many, many people who realize they are at the end of what they can do. It’s time to hand it all over to God. And that’s hard. But he’s ready for the struggle.
Everyday things. But I don’t seem to see them very often. Probably because I’m distracted by the ordered and not-so-ordered chaos around me. Maybe that’s why the experiences so precious. These simple acts of kindness and faith touch me in a way that’s hard to describe. It’s like my heart fuses to my soul in that one solitary moment. I see heaven on earth. I see ‘thy will be done.’
What touches you?
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Linking today with: Sharing His Beauty , and Unforced Rhythms
Happy Father’s Day to all fathers; birth fathers, adoptive fathers, foster fathers, father figures, and Big Brothers.
To my husband: Thank you for being a wonderful role model for our children and grandchildren. And thank you for always being ready to be a referee, hand-holder, sports chauffeur, and advisor. Our children are very blessed to have you for a Dad!
By the time I stepped out the door, the wind had kicked up. The skies were getting cloudier. I knew rain was in the forecast, but I hadn’t been able to carve out time for exercise lately. I was determined to go walking and keep my promise to get healthier. Maybe I could beat the rain.
I had my cellphone just in case. My husband has had to rescue me a few times, and he would again today if I got caught in bad weather. After about a mile, the raindrops started to fall. Just sprinkles. “No problem,” I thought. “I don’t mind a little cool-off.” At two miles, the rain got serious. Not sheets of water, but I was getting wet.
I typed a text to my husband. “Wanna come and get me?” But I never sent it. I believed the rain would stop. At mile 2.5 it did. The threat of rain behind me, I turned for home, delighting in the cooler breezes. Wouldn’t you know it? Now I was feeling the unwelcome presence of gravel in my shoes. Great. Every step reminded me of those sharp little freeloaders. A quick check of the benches told me they weren’t an option. I’d end up with a large wet spot on my shorts. No thanks. I kept walking. I paid attention to my earphones and was able to walk block after block without really feeling the jabbing pokes.
Finally I made it home. Wet and with a little limp, but I made it. I was happy that I could face those obstacles and keep going. I could have sent that text…but I held off. Now maybe a little rain and a little pain don’t sound like much. You could certainly say that these were puny hardships. How could anyone decide to give up in the face of a little water?
Oh, I could. I’ve given up on goals for flimsier reasons. Get up early to work out? Good idea! But the next morning, the only thing that got a workout was my snooze button. Give up desserts this week? Good sacrifice! But then my husband brings me a chocolate cupcake, just because. Hmm…it would be so rude not to accept it. So maybe my walk that day was only a little victory. But it’s the little victories that need to be celebrated.
Those small steps to a stronger focus and a firmer will, that are laced with the presence of God. Without him, I’d be back whacking my alarm clock. We should never decide that any success ‘doesn’t count.’ God knows us, and he knows we have to start small. And there is a great blessing in small victories.
“The man who can be trusted in the little things can be trusted in great…”
Luke 16:10
So really, I may have only finished my walk. But in truth? The Lord smiles and says I am on my way to bigger and better things. And you know what? I bet you are too.
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“Moses looked; there was the bush blazing but it was not being burned up: Exodus 3:2
“But when the young man heard these words he went away sad, for he was a man of great wealth.” Matthew 19:22
So here’s a question for you. What do Moses’ Burning Bush, and the Rich Young Man have in common?
Answer: They were both on fire, but not consumed.
The man in this passage followed all the commandments. But in his concern for the rules, he was lacking the passion and purpose he needed to fully follow Christ. Something was holding him back.
The rich young man in Matthew’s gospel just fascinates me. At first, I thought he was being a show-off. You know the type. A teacher’s pet. The one who does everything right. There he is up there in front telling the Lord that he does everything right. Yeesh.
But now I think this young man is like most Christians who are striving for a holier life. He asks, “What do I still lack?” Don’t we all pray that question at one time or another?
Jesus’ answer begins with: “If you would be perfect…”
I don’t think that he’s asking for a life lived without error. The word ‘perfect’ in Greek means perfection, but it also means ‘coming to maturity.’ Jesus is telling the young man he wants a mature life in the Spirit from him. His riches are not the problem. His love of the riches is the issue. That love keeps him from being fully consumed in the fire of God’s holy, passionate love.
I can relate. I try my best to follow Jesus, but at the end of the day, I can see where I have held myself back. I could have given more. I ran the race, but I didn’t go the extra mile.
To be consumed means I have to lose myself and look outward to see what God sees. To love as God loves. It might hurt a little. But it puts me right in the sandals of Jesus. I am following his model of the selfless servant.
So now I know what I need to do. I have to be ready to give more. Whether it’s time, talent or treasure, I have to be willing to throw it all on the bonfire of love.
As it burns, I can see my old self becoming a memory. The new person that emerges is a little shinier. A little more focused.
Standing in the dark, the fire’s glow reflects on our faces. The Young Man and I link arms. We’re getting there…
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