little fingers – holy hands

and a little child shall lead them…  (Isaiah 11:6)

An amazing thing happened at church yesterday. Real worship, true heart abandon could be witnessed in the assembled choir down front – and most members were under 4 feet tall.

Our Kids For Truth children’s church came in to lead the worship and recite scripture to the congregation. Ten weeks of hard work, memorizing questions & answers, earning badges, singing and repeating verses in the car, the bathtub, at the dinner table and everywhere in between came to this moment when the children stood down front to get us moving and praising “JESUS!”  –  to show us that hiding the Word of God in our hearts  (Psalm 119:4) is still possible and relevent for today.

We were stirred to worship, clap and shout by these little Davids giving praise with all their might  (2 Samuel 6:14). And then we were all stunned to silence and to listen – holding our collective breath as the children from oldest to youngest shared their wisdom about the Bible and spoke word for word the verses from their hearts.

Four of my babies were up there and my eyes stayed with them most of the time. And the Lord showed me something I did not expect to see. During a quiet worship song, we were all encouraged to raise our hands as we would like, to express our hearts to Him. And that’s when I saw it – each of my children’s hearts being opened to the Lord.

My eldest held her hands out from the waist. Her eyes were closed and she was quietly worshipping. It was as if she was receiving something precious and holding something precious at the same time. Her heart was open and ready for whatever the Holy Spirit wanted to do in that gentle moment.

My oldest son stood with his feet apart, eyes closed and head bowed. His arm extended straight out in front of him. His heart was honoring the King of kings. His heart was not afraid.

Our five-year old kept her eyes shut tight. She was not looking around. Instead she was singing - singing with everything she’s got. She held one hand tight to her chest, keeping its treasure safe. Her heart was honest.

Then I spied my seven-year old. She was a sight to behold with arms outstretched like wings and her head tilted back as far as it could go. It was as if she was waiting for a hug as she sang to Jesus. Her heart was being emptied of love and refilled with Love all at the same time.

Our fifth child was with me. He loved the music and seeing his family up there, but he was not ready be in that place. He didn’t want me to put him down either. Instead he danced with me, moved with me, praised with me as I worshipped the Lord. He’s young and learning. His heart was listening.

We all come to the place of worship from different directions, different stages in our walk with Him. No matter where we come from, we can ALL go to a place of intimacy and Divine exchange – if we come with an open heart. My children differ in age and understanding of God, yet each of them met with Jesus on Sunday. And He LOVED every minute of it.

They bound themselves in a covenant to seek God…wholeheartedly, holding nothing back….they had given their promise joyfully from the heart. Anticipating the best, they sought God and He showed up – ready to be found.

(2 Chronicles 15:12/15 – The Message)

Psalm 23 – Unseen Treasure – part 4

You are out of everything. There is no more food or water. There is no light - there is barely any hope. Rocks and debris shift and fall from the towering cliffs on either side of your valley. The enemy is closing in fast and your only way out is to keep moving ahead, but exhaustion and darkness keep you motionless. Negative words are being hurled at you again and again because the enemy sees your weakened state and enjoys picking on an easy target. Doubt weighs down your very breath.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies

Jehovah Nissi  -  0ur banner of victory

Prepare – “a rak”  to arrange, to set in order. Also used as a battle term – ARRAY(ED) draw up/formations/battle

This dry and lonely place is perfect for the kill. There’s no end in sight and no source of help to be found. Their snickering echoes off the rocks and roars in your ears. But then… then  The Source of all Life reveals His position – right by your side. A table appears just within your reach, the color and surface of it glowing as if it belongs to another realm. They stare in disbelief. The Shepherd, our Servant King ties on an apron and sets the table for two.

Not at the end of the valley, but right in the middle of it, Jesus arranges a place of provision. He knows how to sustain the weary one with a Word (Isaiah 50:4). He honors us directly in front of those who despise us. We come to the abundance of His table and we are nourished and filled once again. He sets out COMMUNION – the bread and the wine – reminding us of our covenant together. There is Light in the darkness and the darkness is fleeing fast. Hope is restored and our strength is renewed.

Confusion is thrown back into the enemy’s camp as the WORD bread is broken and consumed. They are repelled at the sight of the Blood of Jesus in your cup. Suddenly fear and terror sweep through the ranks as you carefully pick up your fork. Why? because they see the sword of the Lord in your hand. Spears and shields are revealed as the table set for a meal becomes a display of weaponry, authority and strategy. All this while you and your Beloved share a quiet moment together. Jesus is reminding YOU of His love, sustaining grace, and blood-bought victory.  The Shepherd is also putting on a show of might and power, proving to the enemy that you are His, bought with a price. He is reminding THEM that they are already defeated.

And suddenly this place of weakness and loss becomes the place of your equipping. Now you have been given something that cannot be taken away. NO ONE, NO THING can ever take away the truths we grasp a hold of in the valley of the shadow of death. They become part of us, a deep treasure found in the midst of pain. Why? Because we are emptied out. And Almighty God moves to imprint, impress a facet of Himself into our very being. This treasure becomes part of who we are.

Guard through the Holy Spirit who dwells in us, the treasure which has been entrusted to you.  2 Timothy 1:14

You have anointed my head with oil  

Jehovah M’Kaddesh - our sanctification

The Holy Spirit – Oil for the journey.  We are not out of the valley yet, there are miles still to go. So our Shepherd marks this place -and us- with an anointing. Oil heals, soothes and comforts. It sets us apart, cleanses, seals and preserves us. Holy Spirit anoints, falls, pours out, pours onto, and fills. (Acts 10) The oil of the Holy Spirit seals the work that has just been done and softens us for further work down the road. This anointing is a constant reminder of His Presence – the fragrance of Him. The Lord gives us a garland instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the mantle of praise instead of a spirit of fainting so that we will be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that HE may be glorified. (Isaiah 61)

Strengthened and encouraged, we take all that is ours from the table. And we step out onto the path of righteousness once again…still in the valley. But the way is not as dark and the sound that fills our ears is the song He sings over us as we continue on.

 

Sunday run amuck

Sunday - a day of rest. Time to unwind and relax together as a family, right?   RIGHT???

evidence of things gone all mucky

I was just beginning to ease myself into a new magazine, having enjoyed church, braved the grocery shopping, and done the dinner when our little girls knocked and called out at the back door…

“Mooom, Daaad! We fell into a mud pit!” they shouted. Giggles and squishy, slosh-y sounds echoed down the hall.

Peter got there first. The moment of stunned silence was shortly followed by a big Daddy bear roar. All giggling ceased as the seriousness of the situation was explained to the two mud balls standing before us. They had decided to “play” in the muck around the barn. The SMELL was unbelievable!  The poop was in their hair, rubbed on their faces, covering their clothes and skin EVERYWHERE. October or not, they would have to be hosed down, stripped down and hosed off again before being allowed in the house. After that traumatic experience, they were marched to the shower to defrost and be scrubbed yet again with SOAP, lots of soap…and shampoo and conditioner and more soap and possibly a bottle of perfume just for good measure. SIGH…where did my quiet Sunday afternoon go?

 

awaiting judgement

let the spraying begin

it was so sticky - Momma had to take over

this ia AFTER being hosed down

I will never play in the muck again...I will never play in the muck again...

 

Just another Sunday afternoon down on the farm.

Did I mention I hate this kind of handwashing?!

Psalm 23 – Unseen Treasure – part 3

Where are we going – how can this possibly be the right way? Your mind races through the questions as your eyes take in the changing landscape and the yawning darkness covering the path ahead. Clinging to the edge of His robe, you stumble as the ground falls away from your feet. But His staff catches you by the ribs and you are righted in your step…

 Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death

Have you ever noticed that the “paths of righteousness” actually go through valleys, the lowest and most vulnerable of places – how can this be? There are no easy answers. Jesus said “In this world you have tribulation, but take courage: I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33) ”And we know that God causes all things to come together for good to those who love the Lord, to those who are called according to His purpose.” (Romans 8:28) Here is the place where all things are tried and tested. The Word and the Spirit – what did we really eat and drink? The times alone with our Shepherd, the taking of His Name – did we really hear His voice, do we know who we are in Him? The journey thus far – where have we been and where are we going? In the valley of the shadow of death, there seems to be more questions than answers. And yet God is the I AM, the Alpha and Omega, the Beginning and the End…so…

I fear no evil, for You are with me

Jehovah-Shammah – God who is there 

Hebrews 13:5 “…He himself has said I will never desert you, nor will I ever forsake you.” 

To be sure, evil is there. The circumstance- the impossible mountains on either side of an exposed and vulnerable path are real. But our God is an awesome God! Greater is He who is within us than he who is in the world. He is a very present help in time of trouble. We can reach out in that dark place and touch Him still. He is faithful and true and not a man that He should lie. He is THERE in the midst of our darkest hour.The Good Shepherd never leaves his charge.

Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me

Rod (sha bet) rod, spear, tribe, club, sceptre

Even in this terrible place, there is comfort. By His mighty right hand, the Lord welds His rod, using it as a club on our enemy’s head. Using it as a spear to fend off the fear that tries to chase us. Showing it to represent our TRIBE, upholding us as His, proclaiming our bloodline is His very own. He holds out the rod as a sceptre, the symbol of his power and Kingly authority. And at the same time, He extends it toward us - for we are highly favored even in this place. For such a time as this.

“I will lift my eyes up to the hills, where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth. He will not allow your foot to slip; He who keeps you will not slumber.” Psalm 121:1-3

His staff comforts me because with it He keeps me in all His ways. It is an extension of His hand. When the path is narrow, when I cannot see, His staff rights my way. If I try to run in panic, He slows me down. If I am frozen with fear and doubt, He brings me around. The comfort is in knowing, sensing, seeing His hand at work on our behalf. It is not some distant set of directions. Our Shepherd is in the midst of our every circumstance, seeking to guide us – always in the right direction.

 

and now a word from our Sponser… (true story)

ENCOURAGEMENT

There are times when we all need a kind word, hope for a difficult situation, a push in the right direction. Family and friends come in handy for just such an occasion (Proverbs 17:17). But there are some things they cannot really touch or see. These are the times when we encourage ourselves – like David did ( 1 Samuel 30:6). However there are moments in life when none of us can even begin to know where to start, how to break through, what will make the difference.

Then in steps God.

I have been invited to go to Kenya as part of a ministry/missions team. What an honor! God had already been speaking some quiet words to my heart of hearts about Africa – Kenya specifically – so I am getting excited about what’s ahead. As we meet and strategize, the Holy Spirit drops an amazing idea into my head about how to raise money for the women in prisons there. Now we’re talking vision and Matthew 25. I gather our church women’s ministry team around me and share my heart. They catch the vision and work to start putting this plan into action. We speak about it at our Women’s Event and it is well received. God is working. I continue planning for the trip, looking at flights and itineraries with the team leader. I even start my rounds of injections. News is spreading and it is good.

Then life on the home front takes some turns. Sharp and fast. My husband and I look at the situation and we both see that there is no way for me to go to Africa this year. It is not possible. Our place, my place is at home as the care of family and the extra load of the business must be shouldered and shared by us. I make one very painful phone call. It is the right thing to do. I feel God’s hand and His grace – but still I cry when I say that I cannot go.

I am graciously given leave with prayer and blessing and words of other trips that will be taken. It is the right thing to do, but my heart is still heavy. I say nothing to family or friends for the moment. What can I say? Who can see my valley? I put it on hold and get on with the dishes, the laundry, the kids. The calendar says I have another injection to get on Friday. I don’t want to go. I don’t want to have to explain to the nurse that I am not going to Africa after all. I really don’t want to cry in front of her.

But then Friday comes and I decide to go. I take a step of faith  -  I will being going to Africa someday, so I might as well finish this round. I pack up the baby and drive to the doctor’s. Without words I am praying for the strength to face the questions – to answer them without losing it in front of an unsuspecting stranger. I sit in the waiting room while the two year old attacks the play area. And then it’s my turn to go in. The nurse shuffles through my paperwork and asks me how things are going with the fundraising. I had told her all about it the last time we met, so there is no escape for my heart. I tell her I cannot go and why. I am able to hold it together (grace) as I explain that the trip is still on and we’re still going to reach out to the women in prisons there.

The nurse reaches back behind her desk and pulls out an envelope. “I passed the hat at my walking group. Here’s a wee bit of money for them.” The envelope has my name on it with a £50.00 donation. I don’t know what to say. Now the tears that had done so well to hide were running to the corners of my face. “Thank you” I whisper. “You have no idea how much this means to me.” She makes herself busy with the medication as I straighten myself out and roll up my sleeve.

All this time, my son has been sitting beside me playing in his own little world. Now he turns to me with a very serious face as the nurse puts the needle in my arm…

“It ouch-y Mommy?” he asks, searching my teary eyes.

“No, baby” I say “it’s not ouch-y now.”

Faith – Hope – Encouragement. What a God we serve.

gifts from the garden – ick!

This is what my son brought in from the garden:

 

He was so very proud…

 

 

Look Mommy – they’re just like pasta!

 

 

Can we eat them for dinner – pleeeease???

 

No, baby. But Rexy (the gecko) can!

The great toy migration of ‘09

A Lego rock monster is eyeing my bagel.

I’m at the kitchen table trying to have my breakfast in peace. If I tilt my head to the side and position the laptop just right, I will not have to look him or the Barbie car traffic jam that has found its way onto the island. Or the plastic food picnic unpacked in the window seat. Or the dinosaur collection roaming through the crumbs under the table.

Yes folks, it’s that time of year again - The Annual Toy Migration. Of course this happens on a daily basis in our house, but October seems to be the month for increased activity. I suspect all those toy commercials shown in a mass media blitz before the run up to Christmas. It’s like a scene out of  Toy Story  -  they’re making a bid for freedom before the post-Christmas toy cull.

Hey!  Give me back my bagel….grrrrr…..

The Sleepless Princess – a bedtime story

Sleep seems far from me tonight. There are so many thoughts and emotions changing color and shade as I turn into and out of a pretzel in the bed. I give up and slide out from the toddler’s grasp to fumble in the pitch black for a fleece and the door. I manage to toe the truck parked across my path. It lights up and “vroom vrooms” – I hold my breath and wait for the snoring patterns of baby and husband to regulate before feeling my way along the wall and down the cold stone stairs. I guess I’ll write it out until sleep finds its way back to my body and mind…

A Bedtime Story

There once was a vain young princess who lived a gentle, sheltered life in a free land full of Good Things. It wasn’t as though she meant to be selfish, but her world was narrow and her view was mainly that of her own mirror. The princess had heart and courage, though the latter was seldom needed so no one really knew – least of all the princess. But that would change.

A wise young merchant won the princess’s hand, for he was strong and gentle, kind and brave. The princess left her childhood kingdom for a wider view of the world in a foreign land. And this was the first test of courage. Gone were all things familiar and gentle. There were Good Things to be found, but they did not look the same. They did not taste the same. And they certainly did NOT sound the same. The princess was at times very sad. And it took several seasons for her to see the better side of things instead of the lesser. Still, there was love and joy in the house soon to be followed by tiny cries and squeaks of little ones bumbling about. The princess did not look in her mirror nearly as much. The babies made sure of that!

The family grew as did their castle, so to speak. Their “castle” was an ancient farm steading, and the princess’s carriage became a tractor. This second test of courage lasted many more seasons than the first. Gone were the days of fine silk dresses. Heeled slippers got traded in for welly boots, and fine jewelry for washing machines. The princess learned survival skills, building trades, accounting and cow jousting. She could feed an army and still keep her toenail polish intact. (some princess traits never fade) Life was not always easy, but it was rich and full for the most part. There were times when the princess looked in her mirror and longed for some of the Good Things from the past. But it did not last long – things moved too fast to stay there.

Then a third test of courage came for the princess, one that would widen her view once again. The merchant’s father was ill.  Suddenly, the busyness of life came to a screeching halt as the family gathered round to see what could be done. The parents needed help so the “castle” became  their home, too. As the princess walked with her mother and father through each day’s routine, she began to see life differently. Each day had its treasures and struggles, never mind the week or month. Small things had a much higher value than before – conversations over coffee, her husband’s smile, the laughter of children being chased by their Grandpa – these were the moments of importance. There was treasure in the doing of simple things – facing a grey day, matching the socks, walking down the drive, keeping the fire going.

A slowed down life was of no less value. And the accomplishments of one’s life could not be measured looking back at what you used to do or looking too far ahead at what might happen. Even if the season is narrow, the living need not be. These were Good Things.

So the princess hung her mirror in the long hall, right next to the front door. Not to peer at regret, not to see the passing of time, but to look herself in the eye and say “This is the day that the Lord has made, I will rejoice and be glad in it.” Every day. No matter what.

 

Good Night

shackle free

I hate cancer.

I know I’m not alone on this but I wanted to actually write those words down. And now here are some more -

Jesus beats cancer every time, every round, every tumor, every errant cell. He wins – no matter what the outcome might be.

We lost a precious church family member last night. She won her epic battle when she stepped over the invisible line between this world and the next. She walked into victory and into the arms of Christ, entering a place of rest and peace and freedom from all sickness. And for someone who’s favorite song is “Shackles” by Mary Mary, I sure she’ll be using her new found freedom to do some serious dancing around the throne of God – her praise and worship filling the air like a fragrance.

I am comforted by that thought. Truth be told, we need the comfort. My father-in-law goes in for surgery next week. It’s another procedure in a long line of treatments for his cancer. It should bring him much needed relief, but it could also bring us closer to the end of what medicine has to offer.

This life is just a breath compared with eternity, but it’s so hard for us to see that kind of perspective from earth and dust. And I don’t think we understand what some spiritual battles look like. I think there are crowns earned when the clinically depressed raise their hands in praise to God, when the broken-hearted reach out in kindness to someone else in need. I think battles are won, victories earned and devils knocked off their seats when a cancer patient lives to see another day, finds beauty in the moment, cries without bitterness, shares Jesus with the patient in the next bed.

I have had the priviledge of knowing such a person. And like so many others, I am in awe of the faith, hope and love she lived and breathed through every valley walked.

Dance one for us, Janet!  cancer can’t hold you back now.

 

Take the shackles off my feet so I can dance

I just wanna praise You

Just wanna praise You!

You broke the chains  now I can lift my hands

And I’m gonna praise You

I’m gonna praise You!

~

Been through the fire and the rain

Bound in every kind of way

But God has broken every chain

So let me go right now…

Total Closet Embarrassment – an excellent example

It all started with a crackle on our fax line – resulting in yet ANOTHER call out to the phone company about our ever disentigrating  telephone wires. When you live out on the moors in Scotland at the very end of a phone exchange, four miles of exposed cable is asking for trouble. But neither we nor the phone company is willing to shell out the thousands of pounds it would cost to bury the lines. Instead, they like to spend their budget sloooowly – one visit at a time our to our farm. And this was one such visit.

From past experience – one week ago and two weeks ago – I knew that the engineer was going to want to peer around in my linen closet in the laundry room (because, of course, that’s where the main phone jack should be located.) I actually spent several days cleaning that area so he could get in and out without stepping over toys, mucky boots, dirty laundry piles and the odd bit of drying lingerie. But this time was different – THIS time he didn’t want to go into the freshly pressed linens shelf. HE wanted to search for cabling in the

JUNK CLOSET!!! (cue scary music)

You know the one – the place where everything gets “filed”  to sort out later. The hidey hole for all that clutter on your table when unexpected company pops by. It’s where I stuff all my kids’ arts and crafts supplies. Pictures and photographs and old achievement awards wait in there, hoping to see the light of day this decade.

The phone engineer is standing right next to me as I hesitantly open the door, hoping that the waterfall effect of papers will not bury him in the process. I lamely say something like  ”that would be the closet I’m clearing” while I busy myself with the breakfast dishes still on the table. Just when I feel myself getting over the initial embarrassment, the engineer says he cannot find the right cable. Now he wants to go trace it out from the phone in the office. I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks -again- because I know what’s coming. We are going to have to go into the paper jungle that is our home office area. Not only that, he is going to have to crawl around under the desks of two big booted construction men with a million dust bunnies for company.  *sigh*

I figure this must be it. It’ll all be over soon and I will search for my dignity with a magnifying glass after this guy leaves. Fifteen minutes later, he’s back. No phone cable to be found. We go outside and try to trace exactly where this stupid phone line disappears to. It’s like the house ate it! We narrow the search to near the front door. And what’s inside the front door?  THE FRONT HALL CLOSET!  And where did my children just spend the last few days playing? In the FRONT HALL CLOSET! And what did they do? Unpack all the sleeping bags and pull down all the winter coats. Could we open the door? Yes, just. Could we see any cables inside? Only electrical cables. Could I get the door to close? NO!

Now I am so totally embarrassed that I really cannot look this guy in the eye. I am not even trying to make an excuse because any conversation would mean he’d be staying longer and that would only extend my pain. We go back outside to retrace the cable AGAIN.  This time we determine that it is going through the wall somewhere past the kitchen window.

“Where do you think this is going to in the house?” he asks.

I look, I measure, and I gulp. Inside I’m thinking we really don’t need a fax line. After all, we have internet one hour out of every three.

“I think it’s coming into the secret stairs.”  I choke.

We go back inside  -  past the front hall closet, the door to the office, the laundry room, the junk closet and over to a panelled blue door. Here we stand at a hidden stair that has not been used as such for several years. It accesses our Christmas decorations and YOU GUESSED IT – doubles up as a secondary storage closet. At this point I just open the door and walk away. By now, this guy knows the risks and I am flat out of small talk.  The engineer climbs up the narrow stairs, over school project parts and Christmas boxes to see what he can find. Nothing. Inwardly I heave a sigh of relief and escort him OUT of the building. I am beyond caring what he might think because it doesn’t bear thinking about. Why couldn’t any of those possible cable places have been in my lovely living room or the recently power washed wetroom or my just-cleaned purple bathroom?

I have experienced Total Closet Embarrassment without hope of recovery.

And apparently without hope of rehabilitation – shortly after the engineer left, I received a telephone call. It was a lovely couple from our church. They were in town and wanted to come the extra 10 minutes to drop off some boxes they were storing for me. “Sure thing!” I said with a genuine smile. Then I looked at the piles of papers on my kitchen table, the clutter on my kitchen island and the dishes in my kitchen sink.

RED ALERT

The papers were filed in the closet, the clutter was boxed into the laundry room and the dishes…well…

I called in my secret weapon – my wonderful mother-in-law who lives next door!