One of the most powerful ways to love God is to surrender our will to His. Of course, that’s pretty easy to do when things are going well, pretty hard when they’re not. But whatever happens in the minutes and hours of the day, we are called to lovingly yield to what God allows in our lives with joy.

Another powerful way to practice surrender involves giving up something I have. Offering a daily sacrifice of my time or possessions is a way to freely give back to God what he has freely given me. I hope that in returning something to God, he will create a little more room in my soul. The act of dropping an attachment, even for a little while, can create a new space for the Lord to come and live more fully in me.

So what should I do? Give up something like coffee or a favorite TV show? Should I add quiet time in prayer, make a contribution to charity or volunteer at the local homeless shelter?

A recent trip to the physical therapist shed some light on the confusion. Six weeks had gone by since my surgery, and I was ready to start walking. But I was anxious too.

A friend told me her therapy experience for a broken foot was very painful. She said that the massage order sounded wonderful, almost spa-like. But in reality, she ended up lying on the treatment table, tears streaming down her face in pain, as her therapist tried to loosen her ligaments. Yikes.

Before setting out to the therapy center, I took two ibuprofen just in case.

The physical therapist listened to my concerns, and quickly put me at ease. “I’m going to use massage, but only to your tolerance. Let me know if anything causes pain.”

As her thumbs began pressing down on my foot and ankle, I felt no stabbing pain, no tears came to my eyes. It wasn’t fun, but it wasn’t crushing me either. And you know what? It helped. A lot. The swelling went down, and my surgical scar even flattened out a little. It was amazing. Just that gentle pressure got me on the road to healing.

A nudge. A push. Not a crushing force. Not crying out in pain.

My first appointment taught me the power of a small step. I believe that even the slightest movement toward God is a positive, active motion. Whatever I surrender will begin to take away the swelling of my busyness, creating that place of rest for Him.

It’s not the size of what I do that matters. It’s my absolute intent to unite myself to Christ in sacrifice. Whatever it is. I don’t have to choose something that crushes, just something that challenges. It doesn’t have to be big, it just has to be about love.

So now I can move forward with confidence. I think my Father is going to be happy with the newly remodeled floor plan in my soul.

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It’s a common desire. At one time or another, we all want to make a mark in the world. To leave something behind so our lives aren’t forgotten.

I saw this poor tree as I walked through a state park last year. Standing there, minding it’s own business, it was repeatedly scarred by people who wanted to be memorialized. For whatever reason. Maybe they were celebrating a relationship, or just pointing out the fact that they passed by.

Something about this tree urged me to take a photo. I’ve had it for a year, never really knowing why it struck me so deeply. Now, I think I know. It started me thinking about this need we have to be remembered.

So here’s a fun fact about me. I like cemeteries. My best friend introduced them to me when I was in high school. I thought it was an odd affectation for a teenager, but she was my bestie, so I went along with it. As we walked in the silent grass and read the tombstones, she would wonder aloud at the names and ages of the deceased. The most touching headstones were the ones belonging to children. Some of them were only days or a month old. We wondered why they died so soon.

After a while we’d sit on the hill that overlooked acres and acres of grass, trees and headstones. Occasionally we’d see flowers or plants scattered at sites. But silence and the wide expanse of grass…that’s mostly what was left to honor lives lived so long ago.

These days, I visit my Mom’s grave. After tending the flowers, or having a good chat, I never leave without strolling around the other plots and paths. It’s an old place of rest, with headstones from the early 1800’s. As usual, there are some flowers, an occasional token of love left behind…but mostly just the silent grass.

The fact is, over time, we will all be forgotten.

Although we want our footprints to stay on earth, in the end, it all fades. We’re not created for immortality here.

Trophies rust, trees disintegrate, headstones are abandoned. Our footsteps on earth will be gone, because we are meant for more eternal things. We are meant for God.

Let’s walk this beautiful earth with the Creator in our hearts. We were born for His pleasure, alive to serve His will. Instead of trying to leave a legacy here, let’s create an eternal one. When He finally calls us to Himself, we’ll go to our  ‘forever home’ with Him.

I want His name written on my heart, not my name written on His trees.

A hundred years from now, I’ll be the Nana that my great-grandchildren will struggle to remember for a child’s “Family Tree” homework assignment. No amount of tree carvings, trophies or even my headstone will change that fact.

That’s okay. It doesn’t bother me. My legacy lies in a more permanent place.

“All people are like grass, and all their glory is like the flowers of the field; the grass withers and the flowers fall but the word of the Lord lasts forever.” 1 Peter 1:24-25

Linking today with: #FindStability

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I sent tax documents to our accountant before the end of February. I guess it’s not super-early, but my husband and I wanted them organized and out of the house. It’s like that annual doctor’s appointment you know you have to make. Necessary, but always intimidating.

Wouldn’t you know it, one lousy week later we got another tax document in the mail. I thought they were all supposed to be mailed out by the end of January? Argh. Figuring I’d call the accountant’s office after my exercises, I strapped on my ankle weights and started in on the leg lifts.

The phone rings.

Naturally I couldn’t get to it in time. Probably a good thing anyway. It was a ‘robo-call’ from our insurance company. We’re enrolled in insurance through healthcare.gov, but no, it wasn’t Mr. Obama. It was a very nice lady’s voice telling me that the document they sent for use in our return (and proof of insurance) was incorrect. ARGH!!

We checked our Marketplace account for accuracy before sending in our sheaf of paperwork. No red flags. It all looked fine. We knew there might be problems, it was all over the media, but we thought we were good to go. Guess not. Well, I guess that brings our filing progress to a screeching halt. I was told by Robo-lady that we’d have to wait to file until a corrected copy could be generated.

Time to call the accountant. He called back a few hours later, and we spent some time just chatting, catching up. He’s a really friendly guy, and even though I was still annoyed, he put me at ease.

I explained the extra document. “No problem. Just send it to me.”

I explained the health care paperwork error. “You know, you’re in good company. This mix-up is affecting millions of people.”

He’d work on other parts of our return and wait for the corrected government document. As I began to apologize for the delays he would experience because of our predicament, he gently stopped me mid-sentence. Then he said something that really touched me.

“You’re a nurse. So you know all the medical terms and anatomy and medications. That’s fun. But what really gives you satisfaction is being able to help people, right? I’m the same way. Yes, I know the tax codes and laws and forms, and that’s fun for me. But what I really like are the relationships I have with my clients. It’s all about connecting and helping people.”

Wow.

Now maybe there’s a perception that accountants are bean-counting robots. Or mathletes with fancy calculators. But you know, it excites me to no end to find that some are hoping to use their gifts to create community. To create order out of our paper-driven chaos. To help.

God can work through everyone. The grocery clerk, the secretary, the school principal, the accountant; prompting us all to connect and help.

It should always be about that.

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Sometimes finding God becomes a game of hide and seek.

I’m not always quiet or observant enough to see the Lord’s life in mine. Maybe you can identify with my busy times. Times when activity is at bee-hive level, humming and buzzing with meetings, work, family, illness and deadlines. Prayer time is hard to find, and connecting in any way with God is even harder.

If God is in me, then God is everywhere I am. I know it in my head, but somehow experiencing that melts in the heat of my activity.

Remember the “Where’s Waldo” books? Page after page of crowded, active scenes filled with people and things. Each page filled to the edges with movement and color. The reader’s job was to find one little guy in a striped tee shirt and hat somewhere in the middle of that chaos.

That’s what it feels like. Finding God somewhere in the clutter and confusion of my everyday is a challenge. I’m supposed to find God here? Where is he hiding? I’m running late, I’ve got to get dressed and out the door. You know, I just don’t think I have time for this. Maybe I’ll look for him tomorrow…

We live life on a vast stage. It’s hard to bring it all into focus. We have families, car pools and granola bar breakfasts (if we have time). World politics and tragedies can overwhelm our hearts and flood us with despair. It’s a lot to try and absorb.

How do I find him in all the distraction?

I remember one morning years ago. I had just dropped the kids off at school. My mind was whirling around their science fair projects and did I remember to pack that permission slip? I was on my way to exercise class, then lunch with a friend, topped off by a committee meeting. Oh jeez. What’s for dinner?

And then it happened.

The tune playing on the radio produced a bright ray of light that I couldn’t ignore. The fog of my worries and obsessive thoughts evaporated in the warm words of the song. Steven Curtis Chapman was singing “Fingerprints of God”.

I can see the fingerprints of God

When I look at you

I can see the fingerprints of God

And I know it’s true

You’re a masterpiece

That all creation quietly applauds

And you’re covered in the fingerprints of God.

One song on the radio in the middle of my drive. That’s all it took. The music reached out to me, waving spiritual smelling salts in my soul. I found God. It was such a beautiful moment because my mind turned instantly to him like I’d suddenly seen an old friend.

Looking at the ‘big picture’ doesn’t work for me. It’s just too…big. I prefer the smaller places. The tiny moments that capture me and connect me to the divine. Stringing each moment of union like popcorn on a thread, the Lord and I create memory decorations for my tree of life.

I know I stand against the backdrop of a wide and busy world. But it’s the quiet, surprising moments that I revel in. There I see the fingerprints of God.

Linking today with: Kelly at #RaRa Linkup

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You know that feeling you get when you’ve made it through the gauntlet of the morning routine? The shower. The make-up. The wrestling with cowboy hair. Picking out the clothes.

Ta-Da!! There I stand in front of the mirror, and you know…I look pretty good.

Now, I’ve been nearsighted for years. Oh, and I have astigmatism too. I’ve worn glasses to correct that since my thirties. But it wasn’t until lately that I realized my morning ‘Ta-Da’ moments were seen without correction; through the fuzzy filter of my weak eyes. Seeing my image in a mirror with my glasses on? Hmmm…

Wrinkles. Funny colored patches. Dark circles. Sigh. Who is this woman? I’d find my ego-meter plummeting, accompanied by the sound of a cartoon slide whistle.

And I’m not the only one who judges my appearance.

I remember when I was an operating room educator, in a conference with a general surgeon and the head nurses. The surgeon was introducing a new project: filming a surgical procedure. I’d be able to use it as an orientation tool too. Sounded like a win/win to me.

But then the conversation took a weird turn, as the surgeon began to stress over who should be picked to assist him with the procedure. Well duh. There I was, a twenty-six year old clinical educator in his operating room. Seemed pretty clear to me. Well, I wised up fast as he began to list younger, obviously prettier, staff members as candidates. I wonder if anyone else could hear the air hissing out of my confidence balloon?

But I’m the same person who stood in front of my mirror in the morning.

I’m the same person I was when I walked into that conference.

And the moment I realize that, God leans close to me, and smiles with a love that completely envelops me. He tells me that when I see myself as beautiful, I see as He sees.

How I look. I’m the one who makes it an essential building block in my self-esteem, both as a twenty-something and as a Mom and Nana too. Well, that’s enough of that. It’s time for a new vision. I want eyes that see myself as a beautiful, beloved child of my Father. I want to see me like He sees me.

Those eyes are ready and waiting for me, if I’m willing to accept myself as I am. I’m lavishly loved and seen as beautiful by God in spite of wrinkles, dark circles…all the stuff I think makes me less than. It’s not perfection, or being picked out of a crowd that makes me beautiful. It’s in loving what He has given me, and realizing that I am enough.

I’m going to hold on to those happy ‘no glasses’ moments in the morning. My optical defects? They’re really a God-given gift to see myself just a little bit closer to the way He does.

You know what? I like the view.

(image from Pinterest)

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Every Spring, the arboretum near my house carries out it’s annual Controlled Burn Program. You can see the the gray plumes of cloudy smoke rising in the air a mile away. Not to mention the smell.

I remember the first time I experienced the event. I was lazing on the grass by the large pond, trying to soak up the weak rays from the spring sun. I heard men’s voices, so I sat up to see what was going on. It was an amazing sight.

Men in groups of three, dressed in white jumpsuits with Ghostbuster backpacks, emerged from around the bend in the shoreline. The leader held a tube that snaked out of his backpack, which he used to shoot flames onto the whitened brush that lay dormant and tangled on the water’s edge.

The old plants and weeds quickly caught fire, sparking up in hot orange flames, as white smoke billowed. The two men following the leader had water in their backpacks, using the connected hose to douse any fire that headed toward healthy new plants. It was quite an operation. I was jolted back to reality when the head Ghostbuster invited me to leave my ringside seat. They were headed my way.

I always reflect on this program as each Spring comes. I am reminded to undergo a Controlled Burn too. All the useless habits I have allowed to overgrow and choke my spirit need to be incinerated, just like the weeds at the pond. And the process to get there is very much like what I saw that day.

1. Identify the habit that has to be removed.

The workers at the arboretum don’t strap on their gear and start torching everything they see. They know the areas that need to be cleared. And they are careful to keep their work to just the weeds. The good plants are identified too, so they are not affected by the flames.

Figuring out what is blocking spiritual growth is a discernment process too. Bad habits often grow gradually, and are overlooked for so long they become a part of the landscape. Spending time in prayer is a wonderful way to gain wisdom about what stays and what needs to go.

2. Choose an effective weapon

I saw fire being used to clear the shore of the pond. The newly blackened earth will recover quickly and become a place for wild birds and geese to congregate. With the overgrowth gone, access to the water is unblocked, the way is clear.

Fire is an excellent weapon. The spiritual equivalent of cleansing flames is love. Love yourself and your life enough to cut out the things that hold you back from a closer relationship with God. As the useless melts away, you will become a peaceful place for the Spirit to come and abide. Access to God’s healing waters will be open and clearly marked.

3. Be Vigilant

Although the park does one burn program a year, we have to be more proactive. Our spiritual weeds grow back at a fast rate, choking off any new growth. Remaining in prayer and practicing love every day of the year keeps those pesky negative habits from reappearing in the soil of our souls.

4. Don’t be afraid to warn others away

Remember when the workers told me to be on my way? They knew that I would get in the way of their progress. Chances were good I’d be hurt if I stayed too.

When changing a difficult pattern of behavior, it’s clear that sometimes there are people who support our weaknesses. Or tolerated the behavior. Confronting those people to let them know that we’re working on changing is vital.

It’s actually a merciful act. We make the way clear to walk our path. We spare the feelings of others who may not understand the changes. It also helps lessen the guilt we may feel in needing to say goodbye to people who continue to enable a bad habit.

Getting rid of useless patterns and routines that have accumulated over time isn’t easy. But it’s worth the time it takes to discern what keeps us from living the life that God wants us to live. Once those habits are gone, the newly created space is an invitation to the Lord to come and live more abundantly in our souls.

A new Spring Season can truly begin.

Linking today with: Kelly at #RaRa Linkup

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For much of the last three months, I was firmly planted on a chair or sofa, unable to walk or drive. My life became very small.

I was never bored. Between pain management and exercise both physical and spiritual, I was plenty busy. In the time I did have (besides those things), I became a ‘watcher’. I watched television, and watched my husband flit about performing household chores, his daily exercise and exiting the door to go out shopping. I watched the people that passed by our front window too. Dog walkers, joggers, and moms with children in snow pants stumbling and laughing in the snow.

At first, it was something to do. The hours passed as I sat with my casted, then booted leg up on pillows. But after a few weeks, I started to get restless. I longed to join the jogger in the street. Not that I ever could jog, my knees are shot, but it looked like freedom. I don’t have a dog either, but watching the families trudge through the snow drifts with their pets suggested fun, exercise and a bonding family event.

Hmmm…maybe I was getting a bit jealous. I guess that’s a natural reaction. Of course I’d rather have options. I’d rather walk; be able to get in the car and drive. But as we all know, jealousy is a slippery slope leading to the pit of self-pity.

In the face of my own limits, I couldn’t fully appreciate the things I saw. A child and a mom out for a walk on a winter’s afternoon? What a beautiful image of parental love. A jogger in the winter street? What a beautiful image of determination. These little one-act plays unroll before my eyes as heavenly lessons. God reaches down to encourage my spirit and show me how much I am loved.

Did I miss the point for while? No question. Instead of seeing these message filled activities for the gifts they were, I saw them as objects of desire.

• I wanted to jog!
• God wanted me to persevere in physical therapy.
• I wanted to walk down the street with my grandchildren!
• God wanted me to see him as a loving parent, leading my toddling steps.
• I wanted to drive and go…anywhere!
• God wanted me to learn to be patient and be a gracious receiver.

Experiencing jealousy, even fleetingly, caused me to miss the joyful messages God was sending. Instead of longing for something I didn’t have, I should have remained, fully present, in those special moments. Bouquets of love and encouragement were showered on me in the silence of my living room. All I had to do was reach out and accept them.

God spoke through everything I saw those cloudy afternoons. And he still does. May I never again fall into jealousy’s trap, swiveling my head away from the wisdom and peace of His word and world.

It’s all in front of me, right in the Father’s hand.

Linking today with: Faith and Fellowship Blog Hop

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It looks like Spring is finally here. I have bulbs that are pushing up green leaves six inches tall. The birds are singing louder in the warmer 50 degree weather. All creatures great and small open the doors of their winter homes to dance and leap in the sunshine.

What a crazy winter it was! My sister, who lives in Boston, will be happy not to see another snowflake in her life. Our winter here was gray. Cloudy. Snowy. Freezing and harsh. We’re still not out of the woods yet, it snowed this month. Still, the earth is tilting ever so carefully toward the sun. The season is slowly changing.

I’m fortunate to live in a place where I experience four seasons. They are all so different, but the one constant I see is the bumpy ride we experience as one season melts into another.

Spring is still trying to flex its muscles, attempting to crowd out the winter that wants to stay. One day it’s sunny and 65 degrees. The next day it’s gray, cold and in the 40’s. My closet bulges with winter and summer clothes mixed together. You just never know what to expect.

None of this crazy up and down stuff is much of a surprise though. We all know that change, in any form, is a rough ride. Actually, I experience a lot of consolation in watching the earth grapple with the seasons. I see the progression as a model for my spiritual life.

As I emerge from Lent to bask in the Easter glory of Christ, I pray that I share in the grace of this holy season. Lent was a time of quiet preparation for me. Quieter than usual, because I wasn’t mobile. I prayed the Scriptures, following Jesus’ life and Passion. I prayed that I would be changed somehow…to become more like him. Always human, but recognizing that the Father can shine through me, as he did with his Son.

And now Easter is here. Jesus has risen to prove his divinity, and asks all of us to prove that he is risen in us too. We are to be his ‘Easter People’. The change is ready to emerge in our budding spirits.

But I can’t be discouraged if my transition from Lent to Easter is a rutted road. God knows change is a messy business. It’s necessary, and he wants that change, but the transformation will not be on level ground. I’ll be burning with spiritual fire one day, and reaching in the cold for my prayer mittens the next.

Yet it’s a holy time. I’m growing and becoming, and that’s always exciting. So instead of eyeing the rocks on the way, I’ll lift my eyes to the person I am called to be. A new creation. An instrument of love that invites a new and shining Spring of the soul.

Like the new Spring season, the change will come. It might just take some time.

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Linking today with: Kelly @Purposeful Faith