" What if "

I have a couple of irrational fears.

One is that if you aren’t talking to me, you are probably talking about me.

The other is the fear of being lost.

I literally go into panic mode.

Ask my children; it’s ugly.

Several weeks ago I had made plans with one of my daughters to do something that would give us the opportunity to volunteer our time together as well as be under the teaching of some amazing people. I was looking forward with happy anticipation. 

However a couple of weeks before the event, my daughter realized she was unable to go.

Bummer.

This event was taking place in a city 7 hours of unfamiliar road away and, if I still chose to go, it would require me to show up at an event I had never attended before, all by myself. 

I thought about it, talked about it and prayed about it. 

Pushing aside any beginning of fear, I decided to go. 

As I sat in my driveway texting my children to pray for me, I was feeling a little excited. 

(I don’t get out of the wilderness much)

I drove out my 23 mile driveway, dodging cows as I went, thanking my Heavenly Father for speaking this idea into my heart, giving me opportunity and allowing me to trust Him.

And I made it. 

All the way to downtown Austin to one of the most remarkable experiences I have had in a long time. 

The IF Gathering was incredible. 

The music heavenly, the speakers deep and real and moving, and I met some great people.

And, just because He can, my volunteer area happened to be right outside the area for nursing mothers. Did I mention my daughter-in-law was there with our newest grand baby?!

Throughout the weekend the phrase “What if” was repeated.

  

What if we do what Jesus would do?

What if we love like Jesus loved?

What if we took a chance, stepped out of our comfort?

What if we deliberately work for the poor, the enslaved, the abused, the hungry, the orphans and widows that are literally all over the world and right outside our door?

What if we made others knowing Jesus the most important thing on our agenda?

I would like to say that I bolted out of there and I am doing important and amazing things right now. 

While that is not exactly the way it is going down, I am different. 

God's Spirit spoke to me and “What if” has been running through my head and heart.

As I consider His Word, His Body, His Great Commission, I wait with great expectation to see what My Father is going to do with my willing heart. 

I am committed to more deliberate time in His Word and to continue petitioning for some things that seem like they will never change, knowing that in answering them, in His time, He will be Glorified. 

Several years ago, God began to put a desire for more into my heart. 

“What if” became part of my everyday thinking. 

What if I make some changes?

What if I take some chances?

We moved to a new state, took different employment and have had some of the most incredible times of our lives:

-Volunteered at Operation Christmas Child processing center

-Served Thanksgiving dinner to some homeless gentlemen alongside my family

-Experienced and saw some of the most amazing things: deserts, scenic vistas, wildlife, architecture, culturally cool things, like food trucks and town squares

-Visited and joined churches, met so many wonderful brothers & sisters, shared in people’s lives and gained new friends

-Spent time with Beth Moore (just her & I.. story for another day)

-Became acquainted with some awesome people doing amazing things…like Esther Havens, a humanitarian photographer

And so many other things.

God is so good!

At this point, I am not afraid to ask God “What if” because I want more: more of Him, more of His people, more of His plan, more of whatever He has for me.

And what if, by being willing, and obedient and expectant, God changes me.

What if I become more like Jesus?

That is a chance I am wanting to take. 

But Grace

The camera takes you inside the house
down through floorboards
circling chandeliers
gliding past bookshelves...
It's a commercial for air freshener, but it got me thinking about Grace.

My baby is a few short months from graduating high school
Bringing to an end 3 decades of bus schedules, backpacks, unfinished homework
I can't help but think of Grace.

On a recent date, in the darkness of the theater
I wound my hand inside my husband's, leaned my head on his shoulder
and remembered Grace.

Our Pastor loves God and is passionate about His Word
every chance he gets he reminds us: we owe it all to Grace
Past. Present. Future. Grace.

Grace, Grace God's Grace,
Grace that will pardon and cleanse within
Grace that is greater than all my sin

Ah yes, Grace.
Unmerited favor.
Unearned gift, no strings attached.
The ultimate gift that keeps on giving.

Grace came at the very beginning:

"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God" (John 1)

Grace owes nothing to me, is wholly dependent on God.
Yet from the very moment that He called me"His", it moved through my life,
wrapping itself like tendrils, attaching to my guilt, my shame, my sin
Casting light into the deepest crevice
Cinching up the edges and holding it all together

Over 35 years of marriage and parenting;  every year, every child, every day,
the remembrance of Grace,
the moment of Grace,
the promise of Grace.

He gives me the faith to stand in His Grace. (Romans 5)

In my weakness, His power is perfected and I know the sufficiency of His Grace. (2 Cor 12)

                               

And then there is the peace.
Grace and Peace - like sunshine and warmth.
Peace that allows rest, certain of God's sovereign hand
in illness, and arguments
wayward children and empty bank accounts.

His Grace brings no condemnation; no need to ruminate the past.
He covers my regret, my grief, my lack with one scarred hand
With His other, He takes hold of mine and leads me
Leaving behind the shadows of the familiar
blinking into the promise of bright tomorrows

"The idea (many Christians) have of grace is this: that their conversion and pardon are God's work, but that now, in gratitude to God, it is their work to live as Christians and follow Jesus... No wandering one, as it was Jesus who drew thee when He spoke "Come"... so it is Jesus who keeps then when He says "Abide." The (past) grace to come and the (future) grace to abide are alike from Him alone." - Andrew Murray

I do owe my all to the Grace that God gave, gives and will give freely to me, through His perfect and holy Son, my Savior, Jesus Christ, for His Glory.
And I will rest in the comfort and beauty of His grace-filled promises, and do the things He puts in my way, and there will be Peace because He is faithful.

"Faith in future Grace, not gratitude, is the source of radical, risk-taking, kingdom-seeking, obedience."  - John Piper

Autumn

Amber, bittersweet, crimson, gloriously melded together and brushed across sapphire
Cool,crisp, damp morning air; like biting into a honeycrisp
Favorite sweatshirts shielding the slightest suggestion of chill
Weary, weathered leaves spiral to a crunchy carpet strewn with acorns and sweetgum balls
Awww.... yes.
Fall has arrived in East Texas.
And it is good.

 

This seasonal interchange coincides with my ongoing period of adjusting,
revising; signaling for me a rearranging of time to a slower pace;
welcome though temporary.
I have been indulging in some of my favorites: sewing, reading, photography and a little more Grandma time; by far my favorite!

My latest read allowed me into the life of a young wife and mother who is living in end-stage cancer.
Her desire to live bled right into the reality of her prognosis causing her to consider and deliberately prepare for life after she is in heaven.
Beautifully written, wonderfully honest, my soul hung on to her story long after I had turned the last page.
Legacy.
 www.mundanefaithfulness.com

Recently our Pastor taught from 2 Chronicles 26, the story of King Uzziah.
King Uzziah did right in the sight of the Lord and according to verse 5 :...as long as he sought the Lord, God prospered him" and verse 15 "...he was marvelously helped until he was strong (famous)."
King Uzziah was blessed; right up until he wasn't.
Verse 16 "But when he became strong, his heart was so proud that he acted corruptly and he was unfaithful to the Lord." And God removed his blessing.
By verse 21 King Uzziah is nothing more than a dead leper.
Legacy.


Last month we gathered in the Smoky Mountains to celebrate our family; all 20 of us.
Cousins ran circles around parents and siblings and grandparents; sprinting down hallways and up staircases, wiggling through secret passageways in our cavernous rental.
We played pool and Balderdash
walked mountain roads and raced go carts.
We ate, we laughed, we danced.
Being surrounded by the people I love most in this world was awesome.
And in a way, legacy.

God blessed this "teenage mom turned grandma" beyond any idea, hope or dream, and today there are six hearts beating for Him and seven more in training, because of Him.
It is my desire to leave a clear path for those who follow; outlined with wisdom and truth and marked with service and humility. Footprints that lead back to Jesus, and knee prints of utter dependence on Him.
As I find myself at the beginning of my autumnal years, I thank my Abba Father for this glimpse into what He has done and what He will do...long after I am gone.
My Legacy.
 

And King Uzziah?
Matthew Chapter 1 shows that 21 generations after Uzziah,  Jesus, the Messiah was born.
Legacy.
God's legacy of mercy and grace.

Homesick

Last week our air conditioner died.
To most of the people I know, this is not a big deal. 
But down here? Let's just say I wouldn't have been surprised if I had gotten sympathy cards in the mail.
Thankfully it has been a cool summer in East Texas and our house stayed in the upper 80's. We spent three days warm and sweaty and sticky. Yuck.
It reminded me of Meadville.
And I got kinda homesick.

I suppose that as each day passes, I feel more a part of my new life. Frankly, it usually goes by in such a blur, I don't have time to think about it. 
But I certainly have moments where I ache for the familiar.
Not the hot, sleepless nights so much; rather the "I know who to call to fix that" familiar. 
I want to go to my dentist, get my car fixed by the guy I know and trust, say "Hey!" to well known faces as I wander through Wal-mart, stop into the locally-owned book store (pretty sure they don't exist anywhere else) and sip a tea latte at Tim Horton's while sharing life with one of my well-loved friends. 
I miss those things... and I am homesick.

But I am also forever grateful for my Heavenly Father who loves me, wants to grow me and show Himself to me; which He has done in remarkable fashion.
And as I settle back into His loving guidance, I am aware that I am in the center of His plan and thankful that He has put me right here. Right now.

There are hopeful signs of new life here for me. 
Some faces have now become familiar.
I am working harder at involving myself in our church and with people, and God is graciously opening pathways...I may even have a coffee date soon!

Yet even if enough time passes and friendships are forged and book stores are found, I will remain homesick.
I carry within my heart an ever growing feeling of alienation.
It seems the older I get, the longer I consider scripture, the more observant I become, the stronger the pull to go home. 
I am not wishing this life away (well, not exactly), or working to hasten its end (I am actually eating healthier than ever... now about that exercise...), but with my whole heart I am looking forward to Heaven.
I really am.

I long to gaze upon Savior.
My body yearns to be enveloped in those arms of grace.
And when I get there, I want to cry myself to sleep at His feet. 

But until that day, I will press on. 
Some days are effortless and move along on their own; sunny and bright. 
Others are long and strenuous; enveloped in grey.
But they are all gifts. Full of things for which I am thankful.
I even started collecting them in a new journal. (Thanks Ann Voskamp).

I will continue to remind myself that God is indeed good all the time and He loved me enough to leave His glorious home to come and save me.
And, since He left me here, I will go about this life, looking to join Him where I see him working and hoping someday to walk across that threshold, lay it all down before Him and be home.

Hebrews 12:1-2
Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.

Once Again

It's 5:30 am and already in the low 70's.
The air is moist and misty and I am sitting on my porch watching our herd of oryx gradually graze their way across my front yard.
I had never seen or heard of Scimitar Oryx before I started this safari adventure. Originally from north Africa, they are extinct in the wild. However there are a few thousand in captivity and we have 9 of them. They are graceful and elegant and have beautifully curved horns.
The most recent addition to the herd, a 5 day old calf, is curled up into an almost invisible ball, warmed by the feeble fingers of the morning sun while its mother tugs at the grass nearby.  The mother is moving farther down the sloping field and, uncomfortable with the distance growing between them, she makes a faint grunting sound and instantly the calf is up. Unsteady at first, he gathers his balance and turns and sprints toward his mother; stopping several feet behind her. She continues her descent and after a minute or two, the calf runs a short distance, again stopping short of its mother. I see the mother turn her head and although I can't hear it, the reaction of the calf assures me that she has once again instructed him to keep moving. This dance continues until they have moved out of sight.

And I see myself in that little calf.

At times I want to just curl up into a ball, nestled at the feet of My Savior. Comfortable and secure under His loving gaze.
Hidden from tasks that stretch me physically and mentally and wear at my emotions. Protected by isolation from the hurt of unkindness and the ache of loneliness. Safe from the anxiety of new and the gnawing desire for the past.
And I am at that place... once again.

It has been a year since we decided to pack up what we had left after the Great Purge (aka moving from our home of 25 years), stack it all into a couple of trucks (THANK YOU McCurdys!), drive 1200 miles (Yes, I drove the big ole Penske truck for 2 days), and start a new job, in a cabin, on a safari, in a new state that feels a bit like a new country.
It has been wonderful and a bit terrifying and not at all where I thought I would be when I turned 53 years old. But here I am.
And I would be less than truthful if I said that I never had a doubt, or a momentary panic, or the pull toward the familiar.

My Heavenly Father chose to nudge me out of my comfortable position and put me on a path that led me to this place. His perfect timing. His perfect will.
There was nothing veiled and everything clear as He orchestrated this life changing event.
I am entirely grateful for the opportunity to see My Father's love for me so obviously in action.
It. Was. Awesome.

So a year later, as I watch that little calf struggle to keep up with his mother, I realize that I am once again wanting to stay curled up in my new comfortable place.
My new normal is humming along and while there is much lacking, it is familiar and easy.
My social circle is incredibly small.
My calendar wide open.
My days dictated by the "to do" list of the day before.
Don't get me wrong. I have been stretched and pulled as I navigate this job and house and state.
And I cried out to my Abba Father, more than once, to hold me tight as feelings of inadequacy, discontent and loneliness gathered and threatened to pull into the darkness that is depression.

But much like that oryx momma, my Father quietly reminds me that He is close by.
And He will lead, and direct me. He is faithful. He is good.
He loves me.
And, once again, He is calling me to move on.
To step out of this complacent comfort and stretch myself anew.
And while I am not fearful, I am reticent.

I would rather meet with one of my familiar lunch buddies (you know who you are... I miss you all!!) than push through the awkwardness of new friendships.
I rather enjoy the anonymity of the pew on the left, 7 up from the back, in the big church.
The simplicity of an empty calendar; days that so closely resemble the ones before.
I really don't even know what specifically He is calling me to do.
But I know He wants more. More of my interest, my time, my life.
And, in my continual attempt to understand how to glorify Him, I will obey.
By His grace and through His power,
And I will start by embracing this day.
Maybe I will sit in a new pew.
Or sign up for a Bible study.
Or help with VBS.
Or talk to someone who didn't speak to me first.

And once again I will look at the cross and realize that no sacrifice, nothing He could ask me to give up or take on could come close to the love He revealed when He died for me on that cross.
And I will remember to thank Him, once again.


"Jesus Christ, I think upon Your sacrifice
You became nothing, poured out to death
Many times I've wondered at Your gift of life
And I'm in that place once again..."

- Matt Redman

It's a Good, Good Life.

Ever say this:
"God is good... all the time. All the time... God is good."
I was first introduced to this saying when I attended a wonderful church whose Pastor liked to say the first part and have the congregation answer back the second half. I loved it, and him, and that congregation. Frankly, I hope we all gather in Heaven one day and say that to each other again; for old times sake.

I guess I am kind of sentimental.

Recently I had cause to spend a fair amount of time digging through drawers and files and boxes. I spent  hours trying to decide which items were worth saving and which were not. It was a bit of a process.
I went through notebooks with page after page of gleanings from various sermons and seminars and speeches, trying to decipher my notes and determine their worth (or lack thereof ). I reread Bible verses, quotes and book excerpts written neatly on index cards or scrawled on pieces torn from church bulletins and store receipts. And gum wrappers. (Remember those?) I had collected name tags from events and seminars that I had attended over the past two decades.

 Next was the big box: I spent hours sifting through thick stacks of notes, cards, drawings and letters that I had received from my children and their children. There were sweet sentiments, heartfelt artistic attempts and more memories than I could handle. (Obviously they all ended up in the "SAVE" pile.)

And then came the journals.
Early in my teen years I began to journal. Every night I would get out my big,fat, olive green, paperback copy of The Way (the hip version of the Living Bible), read a bit and then write in my spiral bound notebook "journal". It was the most consistent, self-imposed thing I did in my life at that time.
(And it seemed a tad more productive than crying myself to sleep at night.)

As I was preparing to get married I did a big "clean out the old... make room for the new" and there was no question of me saving my journals. I didn't want anyone ever reading that stuff!
(But, of course, now I wish I had them.)

Since then my journaling as been less consistent and has taken on forms beyond the "diary"of my teen years.
Within the same journal I have prayer lists and answers to prayer along with scriptural musings, questions and gleanings. Some pages contain prayers written on behalf of my kids or a friend. While others are long, rambling prayers, written out like love letters to my Abba.
I gathered my eclectic collection of journals, dropped into my comfy reading chair, blew the dust off and settled in for a nostalgic turn through the words I had recorded.

I was not disappointed.
The words worked as paintbrushes as each page revealed a piece of my history, brush strokes forming a tear drop here, a smile there; a home bursting with laughter and babies and conflict and babies and sadness and babies.
Many of my prayers were raw and hard and brought me to tears all over again.
Honest to the core, I could feel the hurt, confusion, weariness that engulfed me at times.
There were situations that seemed to have no clear resolution... ongoing times of frustration and hurt.
And I spared no chance to let my Abba know how I felt about it.
Over and over again I questioned His ways and purpose.

But often before the close of my prayer, I had heard the sweet voice of His Spirit and I buckled, prostrate under the Love that was spoken, the care that was promised. I was repeatedly reminded of : 
 my purpose (to bring Him Glory)
 my position (buried under the bloody righteousness of Christ)
 my place (right where He put me).
Page after page I saw God at work; not as quick as I would have liked, not the answer I would have liked, and some prayers linger, waiting for resolution.
It may come... it may not...yet.

Closing the back cover of the last journal, I found myself saying out loud:

"God is good, all the time."
"All the time, God is good."

 Amen.

So.Many.Tears.

Nothing has happened.
Not a particular event or conversation-
No memory drug up and revisited-
No reason for the tightening in my chest, the press of overwhelming sadness, tears brimming over my eyes...
Yet here I am
Staring out the window, at nothing in particular, with tears sliding down my face, little testimonies of the ache in my heart.

I don't know if this is a woman thing or a mid-life old lady thing or what kind of "thing" it is...but it is definitely a "me"thing. And it happens a lot.

Sometimes I am wiping my tears and back to normal (well...you know) in no time; my self absorbed reverie interrupted by an impatient buzzer, someone else's  need, or a distracting thought.
But other times I linger, feeling each tear push it's way down, dropping into my lap, each tear's track slowly drying and pulling at my cheek until they are used up...for now.

I am well acquainted with tears...we go waaaayyy back!
I have cried a lot of them over my lifetime, some brought on by anger and frustration, or the sting of hurt feelings...the lonely ache of disappointment.
And there have been tears of joy; unexpected kindness, the birth of children and grandchildren, the beauty of corporate worship, the actions of a loving and just God

But there are times when the tears just come, without provocation...with no known catalyst;
welling up and overflowing seemingly of their own volition.
Perhaps they result from inner struggle- issues buried deep beneath a busy life or a happy smile;
the haunting sadness of being misunderstood or rejected, dried up dreams, procrastinated promises, expectations suspended by the thinning threads of hope...my heart warring with issues my mind refuses to acknowledge.
Or maybe the overwhelming, daunting need all around me weighs heavier on my soul than I realized. Hunger, slavery, people abusing each other, the effects of drug abuse, so many people spiraling down a darkening path with no hope, no help. The incomprehensible death of a teenager at his own hands...and the paralyzing guilt that will forever remain behind. Hard things. Things that keep me up at night, grieving for people and desiring to do something, frustrated at the inadequate opportunities to help.
Knowing that what people really need is Jesus...and wondering at my part in that.

There are times when the yearning in my heart for Home and my longing to rest at the feet of my Jesus increase to a point where tears are my only release...my response to a desire so strong and exact that NOTHING else will appease it.

So, on any given day it may be it is one of these things, or all of these things or something else entirely.
I guess it doesn't really matter.
My Heavenly Father is collecting them all, bottle after bottle, until the day His Son wipes the last tear from my eyes.
And then, I am pretty sure I will be smiling.


Revelation 21:4

"...and He will wipe every tear from their eyes; and there will no longer be any death; there will no longer be any mourning, or crying or pain;the first things have passed away."