A princess married to her prince

Getting married is easy 

Staying married is more difficult 

Staying happily married for a lifetime should rank among the fine arts.

--unknown

I was lonely living by myself in the city.  Alone in an apartment.  A girl, young and naive, although an adult by legal standards - a grown up.  On my own, working in the professional world of business while my childhood friends were perusing higher education on college campuses.  I did not feel like I had a friend in the world while sitting alone in the sparsely appointed apartment.  I could not relate to friends of my age, living contrasting lives of the 'real' world versus the 'college' world.

My uncle and I had teased one another about finding the man for me to marry. He said he'd find me a young, rich fellow - a lawyer, doctor, or engineer while I looked for a good looking guy.  I was okay with that idea but I yearned for more.   I found myself alone in my humble abode with a boom box and black/white television for company. Raised on Biblical teachings, I turned to prayer in search of a friend, a confident, a companion, a husband. a life long mate.

Somewhere in my young life I had heard of making a list of the qualities desired in a spouse.  I am not sure I put ink to paper, but I had a list.  These years later, I am not sure I can recall each trait.  I am sure good looking was on there somewhere, rich probably made the list too.  I do recall praying.  I do recall being completely unworthy of the God listening to me, I still am unworthy except for my status through Jesus' redemption.  Yet I prayed.

I remember asking for a guy that can fix anything.  Why?  Because I did not want to worry about repair bills. I think having someone that can repair a toaster or a car is valuable indeed.  

I also distinctly asking for a man that loves Jesus and lives by Biblical principals. Why?  I think this explains itself, a man that loves Jesus is the best trait in a husband.  'Nuf said.

I desired a guy who would be a good father.  A leader of his family.  Firm but gentle.  Loving and kind.

I desired traits such as kindness, generosity, funny, loving, hard working, good looking.  I may have thrown in there a profession of lawyer, doctor, or engineer.

Pretty good list of a girl, a naive girl. 

Not too long from this little prayer, a young man took pity upon me.  He befriended me, took me on fun outings, included me in his family.  I developed a serious crush.  Never I had known a guy to show me such respect and kindness.  I was disappointed when he told me I was like a sister.  I was devastated as he moved across the country, on rather short notice, for an internship to begin his career.

Yet, God had a plan.  This young man showed me how a great man behaves, how he treats a girl.  At his going away party, a group of young people came into room.  In this group was a guy that caught my eye.  I distinctly remember him my first memory of the man God had chosen for me.

This 'guy' caught my fancy.  I am not sure why, he just did.  I kept an eye on him.  Where?  Church.  A large church with several services.  But we were in the same Sunday School group, so we attended the same service and sat in the same room in a smaller group.  I kept my eye on him.  It wasn't long before we were engaged in conversation, as one keeps an eye on another, the two tend to come toe to toe.

Our dating relationship did not last long.  I was just a babe, not yet 19 when we began dating.  He just a bit older.  I was mature beyond my years having earned some of my maturity through a few hardships. God blessed the guy I had my eye on with intelligence and wisdom.  I did not fully know it in those early days, but something in me recognized it.

I would discover he had many of the traits I prayed for previously.  Most importantly he loved Jesus.  Yet in future days we would both falter in our walk with Jesus, our foundations never left us.  He is a guy that has the ability to fix anything, he is kind, generous, and much more.  God instilled in him traits I did not even think to ask for in my youth such as intelligence, work ethic, stability, wisdom, and faithfulness. Custom made for me.

We married young, as I look back, very young.  I felt very mature as a young lady just out of my teens.  Oh! I had much growing up to do. Growing up we did - - together.  We learned together.  We struggled, we succeeded, we failed together.  God knew we were for one another.  Two very different people.  I am convinced, if we had searched for one another on one of those dating sites, we would not have been paired up on compatibility, so very different are we.  But here we are still together for over two decardes.  We forged our way, we developed a partnership, a marriage.

Not always easy, but definitely worth the effort.  I am married to a nearly perfect guy.  I failed to mention in my prayer for a guy to fix anything in a timely manner, one that doesn't procrastinate.  There are many a day I wished I had added that trait in my prayer.  But it is overcome by the many traits I did not dream of in that dream prayer.

Oh, did I mention, he's a engineer by education?  I chuckle today, I got my engineer.   We are not wealthy but we are comfortable.  I am a princess married to a prince.  I am spoiled by a loving husband.  I am more in love with him today than on our wedding day.  I am not just fortunate, I am blessed.  God heard a young girl's heart desire and answered with abundant generosity.  

All traits were not obvious initially.  They developed in time and continue to develop.  We have been together in this journey of life for more than half of our lives.  It is an adventure I cherish and look forward to every year.  I am nearly giddy each year as we approach and celebrate our anniversary. I love to see the number of years together grow higher and higher.  I pray that God will give us long lives of years together as I now can't imagine life without him.  It is important to celebrate this most important earthly relationship, to cherish it, to nurture it.

A princess married to her prince.  Our King is the King of Kings.  There is no better place to be than by the side of my prince serving the King. 

Easter Ponderings

For me, Easter should 'feel' like spring.  Bright sunshine, warm breezes, clear blue sky, green grass, birds singing, butterflies, pastel dresses, pretty open toed shoes, hats, and egg hunts.  Not this year, or many years where I live, as the day dawned with a lack of sunshine, gray skies, snow covering potential green grass, cold breeze, snow showers, winter coats, definite lack of butterflies.  It just did not 'feel' like Easter as a snow shower rained down on us.

My thoughts turned to the very first Easter.  No matter the weather of the day, bright sunshine or overcast skies; warm temperatures or cold breezes, likely Jesus' mother, would have only noticed the cold, dark emotional upheaval and grief.  She and others that loved him  have just been through the most emotional filled turmoil few days of their lives.  The week began on a high of Palm Sunday with Jesus being celebrated as he entered Jerusalem.  Songs, palm leaves, celebrity status.  The week ended in the worst possible way as the people turned on Jesus, ultimately crucifying him on in a gruesome manner on the cross.

Mary, Jesus' mother, has always intrigued me.  I am awed by her faith, complete obedience to God, and acceptance to her situation.  Very contrary to my personal tendency to question everything and do things my way.  But Mary, she had special intimacy with the most Holy, most High God as she carried His only son in her womb.  When the Angel told her she would conceive this baby miraculously, she accepted it with these words of Luke 1:38 “I am the Lord’s servant,” Mary answered. “May your word to me be fulfilled.” 

Beyond her complete acceptance and obedience, Mary was the mother of this baby, rearing him into adulthood.  I am of a mother of two,I have my experiences of babies and children of my own and a few others. Somehow, I don't think any of these children are anything like baby Jesus. I wonder what it was like to raise the Lord Jesus.  He was fully human and fully God, perplexing for a simple minded soul like myself.  Surely as a baby, he cried when hungry, wet diaper, cold, uncomfortable, or just wanting to be held. Most certainly he 'fell down and went boom', bruised, cut, hurt.  Scripture speaks of siblings.  What of sibling rivalries?  Or of teenage attitudes?  Did Jesus need to be reminded to watch his tone?  Be kind to his siblings?  Eat his vegetables?  Do his chores?  Did little Jesus ever require a spanking or discipline of any type?  I believe raising Jesus was a completely different experience than raising her other children as Jesus never sinned... never.

Can you imagine looking into your child's eyes to realize he looks directly into your soul, knowing you better than yourself?  How does one respond to a child that knew scripture better than the most learned teachers of the time?  How could he be comforted,  the one who can heal completely any physical or spiritual wound?  Yet, Mary had this honor, privilege, and even challenge.

Mary was there, the first Palm Sunday through Easter.  How her mother's heart must have been beyond comfort.  She may have cried until only dry tears flowed.  Her heart ached and broke as she watched all the horrible proceedings.  The scourging as Jesus was beat beyond recognition, the crown of thorns, the jeering, the tortuous walk carrying his cross, the nails, the crucifixion, his death. She may have been unable to look yet unable to not look.  Unable to stay away, desiring to comfort her boy, seeking out His eyes to likely to find them strangely calm and deeply sad, trying to understand those things she 'pondered in her heart' as she raised him. Attempting to make sense of it all.

The time between His death and resurrection would have been bleak and grief riddled.  Even if the sun was shining would she have noticed, as her personal world was dark with little hope?  This miraculous baby she conceived and raised to a man now dead, how does He now save the world?  How does God die?  She perhaps went through her own personal faith crisis.  I would, I know I would have a faith crisis.  In desperation, I would visit his grave, perhaps only to leave by coercion.  That first Easter morning would have felt cold, dark, bleak much like my Easter morning this year.

This Easter of 2013, the clouds cleared away, the sun shone bright, the birds began to sing.  Perhaps much like how the word spread that Jesus is alive, death did not hold him, the tomb is empty.  The day brightened, the dark clouds of despair cleared, the day brightened as hope renewed.  Jesus is alive!

Who is God to You Today?

A few weeks ago I attended a conference.  Fern Nichols of Mom's In Prayer International was the featured speaker.  My recollection and impression of a particular message may not be exactly verbatim but I will try to summarize what I took away and applied to my life.  

When you pray and declare to God a character trait such as God, the Healer, be ready for the test.  Once you tell God that He is something in your life, He may and most likely will test you.  

Indeed!  Immediately during the weekend this was proven to be true.  During one of the sessions we corporately praised God and exclaimed how He is Jehovah-Rapha (The Lord you're Healer, Exod 15:26).  The following morning, I awoke to check the time, rolling over to the pain of a headache that was the type to turn into a incapacitating migraine.  I prayed immediately, again extolling God as my Jehovah-Rapha.  I left my healing to Him.  I prayed that I knew He was capable and even willing to heal me immediately, but I would be content to stay in bed at this great retreat if that is what would bring Glory to Him.  I dozed again for a few minutes and awoke to a pain free head!  God had tested me, heard my prayer, and healed me instantly.  

I thought, "Wow, I passed the test.  A+, pat on the back, yeah God."  My faith grew abundantly in that moment.  I celebrated my small victory and went about my life.  Now, four weeks later, I am going about my business as usual which includes being a wife, mom, homemaker, friend, and ladies bible study student.  I diligently worked on my homework a day before the next meeting.  I pondered the following from Genesis 16:13:

El Roi - the God who sees: He sees me when no else cares to looks. He sees through the smile we wear when we're dying inside. He sees our hurt when we're mistreated. He sees us when we cry into our pillow because we feel unloved. He see beyond our sin into the depth of our need. He sees when we're hiding. Running. He sees when we continue to sow the seed of His Word even in the floodplain of our grief. - - Beth Moore

Did I declare and praise God as El Roi?  Not in the manner of praying on my knees, hand raised type of declaration.  But the phrase impacted me so deeply, I posted it as a Facebook status.  My mind returned to El Roi, the God who sees me.  I thought about Hagar, the hand maiden of Sarai who gave Abram a son and then banished with her infant.  She met God and declared Him El Roi.  So yes, I did declare God El Roi in my life.  I should have known to be ready for the test.  I forgot that bit of detail in my ever learning walk with God.




The test has not been easy.  It impacted more than myself.   My entire family has gone through pain this past week.  We have been hurt, confused, frustrated, and even angry.  We have felt mistreated, smiled while hurting, felt unloved, and tears have flowed down our faces.  

Is God El Roi?  The God who sees me in the floodplain of my grief?  I have pondered this over and over as I worked through my emotions.  And you know what?  God met me.  My pain is still real, my hurt is deep.  Unfortunately, my anger has not completely abated.  But God has met me.  He is the one who gently reminded me that He is El Roi - the God who sees.  I have not been alone.  He has soothed my wound as the pain ached my heart, He has reminded me the mercy He has extended me when my anger has overflowed, He has provided me human shoulders to cry upon.  He has been the God who sees, the God who has seen my pain, the God that has not turned away from my human mess of emotions.

This has not been easy. My faith journey has impacted my family and given opportunity for all of us to learn.  Learn that God is El Roi - the God who sees; to learn forgiveness, to learn mercy, to learn that God is God.

Who is God to you today?  

The King, The Gift, Her Heart

She was given a gift, a precious gift from her King.  Strong yet not unbreakable, beautiful and perfect yet easily marred, valuable yet meant to be shared, personal and unique.  The King told her it was precious, created just for her.  She is to keep is safe.  No one can take it from her unless she gives it to them, either the entire gift or pieces of it.  The King instructed her to be wise in sharing her gift yet not hoard it selfishly.  He told her he would be willing to help her but she would need to serve him forever.  She declined, wanting to be free.  He loved her so much, he let her go.

She took her precious gift, named it her heart.  She kept it with her at all times, safe in her bosom.  Initially, she shared it with everyone, so proud of her perfect, precious gift.  Others shared their hearts with her, she noticed that they were not perfect like hers, they were marred, chipped, cracked, glued, and patched.  Her heart was a thing of beauty in its perfection.

As time went by, someone scratched her heart with harsh words, another deeper gash developed by disappointment of not making the team of her beloved sport.  When her grandmother died, her heart developed a hole.  A dear friend moved away leaving another smaller hole.  Another friend told lies about her causing a crack.  She began to guard her heart, being more wary of showing it to everyone she met.  She started to become more discerning to whom she showed her heart.

Over time more cracks, chips, and holes developed.  These were filled with other precious gems such as a lady she adopted as a grandmother who gave her a beautiful ruby to fill the hole her own grandmother's death had left in her heart.  The cracks were smoothed over, the chips filled in with other bits and pieces.  Her heart was no longer perfect but still beautiful in its own unique way.  She began to realize her heart was much like the other less than perfect hearts she has been showed throughout her journey. 

As time went on she noticed her heart changed colors as she loved and care for others.  The deeper the love the more it glowed, but also the more fragile it became when loving so deeply.  She shared her glowing heart with those she loved, showing them how it shimmered when near them.  Each special person made it glow and shimmer in a unique way.  Sometimes its weight would change as well. 

One day, when it was glowing and shimmering with love and admiration, another came along and carelessly shoved her heart.  It went soaring through the air.  She ran trying to catch it, losing sight of it in the blinding light of searing pain, but onward she ran trying to catch it, buffer it's fall somehow.  But in the blinding light it was lost and it her heart fell on the hard pavement, shattering into a million tiny pieces.  She fell to her knees, how disappointed the King would be in her if he knew how she allowed someone to destroy her gift.

She made dark curtains and built solid walls around the shattered pieces to ensure she could gather them all before others could scatter them.  In tears and in the near dark she gathered the tiny pieces.  The edges sharp, cutting her fingers, the beauty gone.  She declared no one would see her heart again, if she ever could get it back together. 

Piece by piece, bit by bit, she fit the pieces together.  She sought out glue of comfort, peace, but some pieces would not stay together when combined with bitterness.  She had to find forgiveness, she had to extend grace.  She learned these helped smooth out the edges, create a better fit, form a good bind.  Her heart remained so fragile in the dark, it would not glow, it would not shine.  Eventually, she learned she had to let the light in, be brave to share her gift again to restore her heart, her forever damaged heart.

Slowly, with trepidation, shaking, she took out a piece of wall.  Just lowering it a bit.  She exchanged the dark curtains for lighter curtains.  She saw her heart begin to flicker.  Trembling, she dared to remove one wall and exchange a heavy curtain for shear drapes.  Oh her heart began to glow.  It took time, lots of time for the walls to be removed, exchanged for a hedge with a gate.  Eventually all the heavy curtains were exchanged for shear drapes.  A panel or two of drapes were completely removed.  Her heart pulsed with colors, glowing brightly through the cracks, the holes, the chips, the patches.  She discovered her heart was more beautiful than ever.

Cautiously, with shame for her imperfect gift, she returned to the King.  Afraid he would be displeased with her care of the heart, trembling and tearful, she showed it to him.  The king, dried her tears, hugged her close, and soothed her with kind words.  He took her heart, told her that if she would allow him to keep it, he would be able to fix the unfixable parts, and help her protect it.  What a revelation!  Gladly she lifted the burden of her heart and placed them in the King's hands.  He gently took it, he examined it closely, he located the parts that she had been unable to fix.    In his workshop, he carefully restored the brokenness, removed the heavy pieces yet left the imperfections.  Then he returned her lighter heart to her.  Instructed her to look to him for protection.  Promising to be with her if she would trust him and serve him.  As she declared her allegiance to do so, her heart lost all remaining heaviness and shimmered more beautifully than ever dreamed.  She mourned the years she did not trust the King but determined to remain in his presence for eternity.  For there is nothing better than the safety of the King.

Joseph - Actions Louder Than Words

As we approach the ending of 2011, I pause to send you Christmas greetings.  A time to reflect on the birth of Jesus.  The celebrate on the beginning of His human life as fully man and fully God.  Born to a young virgin and a hard working carpenter.  This year I have pondered Joseph.  Not much is recorded regarding Joseph.  His words are not quoted only his actions.  Actions speak louder than words. 

Joseph was a man of integrity.  What did he feel or think when he learned of Mary's condition?   I imagine feelings of betrayal.  How could she do this to him?  How did he misjudge her?  Maybe he wondered if Mary's father had deceived him, did they think he was so gullible?  And yet despite his reeling feelings he thought to quietly divorce her to protect her, rather than have her publically disgraced and stoned as was his right.  He must have loved Mary very much and/or respected her family highly.

Joseph was a devout Jewish man and responsive to God.  An angel visits him in a dream.   Would you believe a dream in which an angel visits you?  Would you distrust your dreamy, hazy memories?  It must have been a powerful, memorable dream with high impact.  Certainly if the Angel of the Lord visited my dream, I would remember it vividly.  In this dream, he is told to take Mary as his wife and name the baby Jesus, for the babe conceived within her was from the Holy Spirit.  Again, Joseph's words are not recorded but his actions are that of obedience.  It must have been frightful to take this bold action.  What would the community think of him, would his business suffer, would he be ostracized, would his family disown him?  And yet he obeyed.  He surely must have been convinced his "dream" was an actual visit from God.

Joseph was a leader, the head of his household.  When the census decree was declared, he embarked on a journey with his very pregnant, young wife.    A long distance to obey the law, it must have been tempting bend the truth, leave Mary behind as they were only betrothed, their marriage not yet consummated.  I envision him carefully assisting Mary on this journey, watching over her, anxiously trying to provide for her needs on this arduous journey.   This young lady was carrying God, the angel had told him such.

He had a very big responsibility without this journey, being the chosen earthly father of God!!  Can you imagine his frustration when he arrived in Bethlehem to be unable to find lodging?   He must have nearly been frantic.  Mary would have been obviously pregnant near time of delivery.  He must have wondered what God thought of him being unable to provide adequate lodging for Mary.  Perhaps feelings of failure plagued him.  How could he let God down by allowing the mother of His son stay in a stable surrounded by animals?  

Wouldn't you know, that is exactly where and when the baby was to be born.  In a smelly stable, not a proper home.  Was he able to find someone to assist Mary through the delivery?  Were they alone?  He may have wondered what God thought of him now.  Certainly this was not the place for God to enter human life.  But what choice did Joseph have at the time?   His resources were limited being a simple man of simple means and the small village was full due to the census.

The timing of the story is a bit uncertain.  I haven't been able to discern, in my casual research, how long they would have been in Bethlehem for the census.  But we do know that shepherds caring for their flocks in a nearby field were visited by angels proclaiming Christ's birth.  These shepherds found and visited this new family and told them of their story of the angels' proclamations.  Likely the shepherds' presence and story stirred up the surrounding community.  A birth usually draws people but this would be incredulous, people would naturally be curious.  Can you imagine the questions he would have had to answer over and over?  Joseph would have been likely fielding many visitors all while trying to understand what was going on around him.   The son of God born in a stable, angel visits, shepherds, and then wonder of wonders... Kings from afar who followed a star that stops above their own dwelling.   Kings...really?  A star??  Surely he and Mary saw this star.   How could the kings have known this star would lead them to Jesus?  They arrive with gifts - magnificent gifts, much beyond what a carpenter likely ever possessed.    It would have been very overwhelming.

Now we come to the part in this saga of crazy King Herod.  He is determined to kill this baby that threatens his throne.  Again, Joseph is visited by an angel in a dream.  The dream must have struck fear in his heart  as he is told his family is danger from King Herod and to leave immediately.  Again, we have little documented history.  It is recorded he bravely packed up his little family and made for Egypt.  Did he dare tell anyone, even new found friends who are potentially in danger?  Such a lonely position. 

Had Joseph ever traveled so far previously?  We do not know.  I will assume he had never been to Egypt.  How unsettling this must have been for a newlywed husband with a young baby that is not his but God's.  A young wife far away from her mother and family learning how to care for an infant.  Her body recovering from labor and delivery.  All the challenges of being a newlywed and a new parent and now to be on the run for their lives.  Starting a new life in a new country.  Could life be more challenging?  And yet Joseph obeys.

This is all the information I have of Jesus' earthly, adopted father during the time of Jesus' birth.  I like to think  I would have desired to be his friend. Maybe I would have thought he and Mary a bit off kilter.  After all, they would have been telling stories of angels, miraculous pregnancy, shepherds, stars, kings, and other incredulous things.  Yet,  I get a sense his was a respected man of his community.  An intelligent, kind, tender-hearted, hard working, loving man.

Yes, actions speak louder than words.  Josephs actions speak volumes.    It makes me ponder what my actions say about me...  hmmmmm.

Funk or Fear

It occurred to me this morning that I have been in a funk lately.  Sometimes it takes a bit for  me to realize that a funky mood has descended upon me.  My revelation came to me gradually as I was going about the business of the day.  The business of the day isn't much today, it is summer vacation and we are experiencing a rather pleasant few days of a slower pace.  But you know what? The 'business of the day' is not the going to be the same for me.  A shift is taking place in my life and it is causing a bit of a funk.  Or maybe it is the long, harsh winter, followed by an extended cold spring, with a shot of extreme summer temps and a wild 50 degree swing in the other direction within a matter of days.  What do you think?

Many things are shifting and changing in my life right now.   Our family is moving in a different direction.  My children are now teenagers and their activities are changing.  They are older, needing less of me which is a good thing, what we strive for as parents.  My role is changing and I did not expect these feelings until they went off to college or moved out of home leaving us with an empty nest.

For the past eight years I have been homeschooling our children.  Last year my oldest child attended school outside of our home and it now appears that the youngest will be joining her this fall.  My days of homeschooling are over.  I have had children at my side for the past 15.5 years.  It is  hard to imagine days without them and being home alone.   I feel adrift, a bit useless, and unneeded.  Frankly, I am lacking  direction. The kids are only going to be gone to school for 7 hours each day.  Sheesh, what's my problem, right?

Additionally, in the past 6-9 months we have left an organization that, I, in particular had been highly involved in as an adult volunteer.  It was not anticipated to cease participating altogether, but that is what happened, and seemly rather suddenly.  I have been exploring my options but haven't quite figured out how to incorporate it all into this new phase of our life.

All this means that the community of people I have been associated with for the past eight years will be continuing on without me.  It is natural that to feel a bit a drift during change, I guess.  But it is uncomfortable.

I have a few ideas as to how to fill my new found "freedom" but frankly I am a bit afraid. I am not the ultimate homemaker so the thought of cleaning and cooking 28 hours (random number) of the week will likely morph into 28 hours of avoidance on Facebook, surfing the internet, and watching tv.  I could get a job but in reality the kids still need me for taxi service and homework assistance, a job could make this challenging -  - oh okay, I don't want a job, who am I kidding? 

Add to this thought process an email I received about the future of America (it was a forward and it made some valid points) but I started to feel a little bit of anxiety over these things which I have no control. 

I went for a walk, borrowing my child's iPod, I put on the headphones and started playing Casting Crowns (we just purchased 4 of their CDs).  My mind did not focus on the music but rather on the future and the uncertainty of it.  I said (in my mind) "God, I am afraid of the future."  Almost instantly the words: "Do not be afraid, for I am the Lord your God;  I am always with you." 

 I then recalled how the Israelites wandered the desert for 40 years with the cloud leading them - they had left behind all they knew and had no knowledge of the future. Can you imagine the uncertainty and anxiety of these people? All the jobs and tasks they knew before were to be no more. What would they do? How would they function? Where would they live? Their whole lives had shifted dramatically. They could only follow.  And I realized, God was with them in that cloud or pillar of fire.  He never left them, He always provided,  and He always made a way.

Wow.  I still do not have the answers for the future.  I still don’t have any control over the uncontrollable; I still do not know what my role will be as we make this family shift.  But I am feeling more confident in the reminder that God is always with me, leading me, walking beside me, carrying me.  Even in a time of storm - which for me, at this moment, is a time of uncertainty.

"I will Praise you in this Storm
and I will life my hands
For You are who You are
No matter where I am
Every tear I've cried
You hold in Your hand
You never left my side
and though my heart is torn
I will praise You in this Storm"

The last song I heard on the iPod as I walked up the driveway to the backdoor.

Struggling dogwood

Gardening is the topic of choice today.  I am capable of gardening but it is not my passion.  I do not have a 'green thumb'.  I am never sure if it is a plant or weed, especially when young so I tend to leave most everything.  By the time it is identifiable it is overwhelmingly weedy.  I don't really enjoy being in the sun  and most gardening cannot be done in the shade.  Add to that mix, that I am not a detailed oriented person.  This does not make for a great gardener.

However, this past weekend, it was not raining and we were home for an afternoon. We tackled some overdue  yard work items.  Winter was long and harsh, Spring was equally long and cold.  My hubby got his tractor with the assistance of our oldest daughter, running the disc and plow through the small field that is used as a garden plot by my father-in-law.  My youngest daughter planted a few pots of flowers.  I went to work on the bushes in the front yard.

These bushes were planted about four years ago.  I bought these little guys on clearance during a hot, dry July.  My idea was to plant them to provide some protection from the road.  There are Burning Bushes, Maple Amurs, and Dogwoods.  We have a bit of property and the front of the yard is a long ways from the spigot.  I carried water to the bushes by the bucketful to make sure they did not die during the drought we were experiencing. 

Four years later, these bushes are still struggling.  Not much bigger than when I planted them, I have been disappointed in their progress  I am also not really thrilled with mowing around them, especially since they are not thriving as I had hoped.  The dogwoods really are struggling - mostly sticks with few leaves.  There were only two of these and I finally mowed down one of them last year. 

But off I went to clear out the grass and weeds growing up and through the plants, taking their water and chocking them.  I pulled out the grass and weeds.  I also put in fertilizer spikes, something I probably should have been doing each year, One or two of the bushes are beginning to show promise. But the remaining dogwood is not doing well at all.  When I pulled away all the grass I found a few short sticks of growth with a handful (about 4) of small leaves.  Definitely not thriving and it looks like the deer have found it tasty as well.  I am considering mowing down this non-productive plant.  I realize the soil is not the best in this part of my yard but I was hoping these hardy plants would make it.

The same time I planted those bushes, I also planted a row of pine trees.  These guys were small, in one gallon pots.  I have carefully tended to them through several years of drought and protected them from the plow of the tractor (they are on the edge of the field).  I am delighted to report that they are growing quite well.    The lawn tractor is no longer a threat and they are more easily seen from larger farm equipment.  I do not mind mowing around them just to see the progress they are making; the growth each year is pleasing.  They are planted in clay, loamy soil and loving it! 

This made me think about the Heavenly Gardner.  How He plants me, nurtures me, pulls at the weeds, carefully mows around me, and I disappoint Him in my growth.  Year after year He continues to tend to me, with much more skill and patience than I have for my bushes.   I know I disappoint my Heavenly Gardner and wonder if He is getting tired of continuing carefully tending to me, much like I am with the bushes.  I wonder if He wishes I was more like those pine trees - putting down a deep tap root, pulling from water deep down, and shooting upward and outward.  I know that is what I desire to be - a thriving, growing tree rather than a struggling, little bush in danger of being mowed over and forgotten forever.  Gives me much for thought and thankfulness that the Heavenly Gardner has much more patience than I do for that struggling Dogwood.  Hmmmm... wonder if I should transplant that bush?

Only need to ask

In the same line of thinking of when God revealed Himself in a real and tangible way, I recalled another incident. I am ashamed at my failure to remember God's faithfulness especially when I am feeling like my prayers are going no further than the ceiling. I am saddened when I consider all the times God has intervened and I failed to acknowledge Him. Truth is that God is always working in my life, seen and unseen. Truth is that God has promised to never nor forsake me.

It was our anniversary. We had planned for our children to spend some time with their uncle while we celebrated. We made plans, I do not recall exactly what those plans were but probably dinner and a quiet evening together, our budget being rather scant. The day or so before, hubby started to complain of not feeling very well. Believing it was likely a flu bug I didn't give it much thought, he would recover quickly.

Friday arrived, hubby stayed home from work ill and going more downhill as the day progressed. He was drinking fluids and resting to fight the 'bug.' Disappointed, I canceled our plans and settled in to be a nursemaid. Hubby is not one to go to the doctor, he has to be extremely ill or in severe pain to consider such a visit.  Day turned into night and still he was not feeling any better.  I teased him he didn’t need to get ill to express his displeasure in our plans.

Very early the next morning, he awakened me to take him into urgent care.  "Wow," I thought, "he must really be feeling awful."  He then revealed to me that despite drinking massive quantities of water, he could not urinate.  This information propelled me out of bed and into motion. 

Still very early, much before the polite hour to call another's home, I called my parents to arrange child care for our children.  Thankfully, my dad is an early riser, but I think I got him out of bed on a Saturday at this early hour.  He arrived shortly thereafter, and I packaged my shivering yet sweating and hobbling husband into the car.  Urgent care is first come first serve.  Suffice it to say we were first, as we waited 30 minutes in the parking lot waiting for the clinic to open.

I was becoming more concerned by the minute.  He was walking like an elderly man and very pallid.  In the waiting room I tried to keep him warm as the chills wracked his body in waves.  He was asked for a urine sample, which was impossible.  He was diagnosed with a prostate infection which can be treated with antibiotics.  But it was very worrisome that he had not been able 'to go' for over 12 hours and he had taken in two quarts of liquid.  He was sent for an MRI - I think it was an MRI anyway, to look for any blockage.

The imaging clinic was across the street, I helped him to the car and out again and into the clinic.  I planted him in the nearest chair and checked him in for the test.  He was given some barium (brain is fuzzy on the substance) to drink.  It was a several hour process… drink this much now and this much more later.  Poor guy, it was horrible tasting and he was miserable and uncomfortable. 

Sitting in the chair, I watched my husband fade before my eyes.  I finally approached the desk and asked if they had an examining table or bed he could lie on and blankets.  By now the chills were non stop.  His color was very disturbing.   Needless to say, I was becoming frightened.  They kindly found him a gurney, a room, and blankets.

By now it was lunch time, he sent me out to pick up his prescriptions so that when the test was complete I could just take him home without needing to stop for medicines.  I reluctantly left his side.  I put in the order for his meds at pharmacy in the big box store.  As I waited, I did some shopping for band aids for my youngest, she was always in need of band aids for real and imagined boo-boos.  Funny how I remember finding Strawberry Shortcake band aids for her.

I called to check in on the girls and to give the report of hubby's condition.  I was teary as I expressed his condition and my concern.  Mom then asked me if I has put him on the church prayer chain.  Duh!  I had not thought of that, I was so caught up in caring for him.  I, of course, had been praying but did not think of including the body of Christ, so caught up in caring for him.  She offered to make the call for me and we hung up.

I received the medicines from the pharmacy, grabbed a sandwich, and rushed back to his side.  I was anxious to return to him.  He was not any better than when I left him.  I ate my lunch, called his parents, and prayed over him.  About 30 minutes later, within 60  minutes of putting him on the prayer chain, he informed me he needed to use the bathroom.  Really?!  A nurse and I assisted him to the restroom with the use of a wheelchair, as I recall.  It was a 'productive' visit to the restroom!  Immediately, he began to feel a bit better and his coloring improved.  They continued with the test, saw nothing, sent him home. He was ill for about a week, it takes a while to recover from such an infection. 

 

I believe that God intervened on his behalf.  Yes, it could have been the stuff they gave him to drink that cleared some sort of blockage.  But I believe that God can use that in His healing process if He chooses.  I am more interested in the timing of when the change occurred.  It was shortly after a call for prayer.  I am ashamed that I had not asked for prayer earlier.  I do not believe it was coincidence that hubby improved as we sought prayer support.  God is all knowing, He knew what we were going through, He was waiting and willing to assist.  We only needed to ask.  Something to remember and never forget.

Do you see that car?

My last post I described how God protected us during a severe storm in 1998.  This got me to thinking about other times God has been clearly evident in my life.  I wish I have been more diligent in writing things down in the past, I am guilty of thinking I will remember and not forget.  But alas, I am human, and thus have a short memory.  Which is why history is doomed to repeat itself over and over again.  In the Bible God's people were instructed over and over again, to build a moment, pass it down to the children, remember .... remember God's faithfulness. 

To memory came another incident where I prayed and God answered.  Had it not been for my daughter in the car, I may have missed His answer and then failed to thank Him and praise Him for caring for us.  All too often, I rely on myself or think of it as coincidence when really it is God taking a very tangible and real role in my life. 

This particular day I was about 50 miles away from home with my two daughters.  I had taken them to a conference for young girls on being a Bright Light for the Lord.  A February day in the upper mid-west can range from sunshine - rain - freezing rain - snow - blizzard.  The conference was held in the southern metro area and I live past the northern edge of the metro area. 

The day started out with rain and developed into freezing rain, at least where I was at in the southern metro area.  I went out at lunch and cleared the windows of the ice developing which turned out to be very wise.  Many others at the end of the day were chipping away at inch or more thick layer of ice on their windows.  My ice layer at the end of the day was considerably thinner due to my previous clearing.  We set out for the drive home which would typically take about an hour.

It was late afternoon when we left.  There was still daylight and although the driving was slow I could see the road and other vehicles in the remaining daylight.  As we drove north the freezing rain turned into snow.  The interstate was crawling along at about 25 mph.  Our drive extended into the second hour as we carefully made our way home. 

Twilight fell as I turned off the main, well traveled interstates and freeways onto the county roads that lead to my home.  The traveling became more slow and careful.  Soon it was dark and the snow was falling heavily and we had passed the two hour mark on our drive.  In a rural area, on a country road in the dark, I could no longer distinguish the ditch from the road.  Gripping the wheel and white knuckled, I prayed aloud something to the effect of "Lord, I can't see the road, please take the wheel and drive us safely home, show the path, in Jesus Name."  I returned to giving my full concentration to driving.

Shortly, a car appeared on the road ahead of us.  I could see its taillights and the tire path on the road ahead of me.  I did not recognize what was occurring ahead of me or how much easier the driving (relatively speaking) had become with the existence of this vehicle.  My daughter from the back seat who was leaning forward trying to assist in identifying the road boundaries, exclaimed "Mom, that car is showing us the way, just as you prayed!"  She was so right and I nearly missed it!!

We continued the final miles to our home following this car.  I was shocked when it turned down my street, a small gravel road.  It continued on down the road right past our driveway, literally showing me the way home.  I turned into the driveway full of about a foot or more of snow, where I promptly got stuck.  I sat back and with my girls thanked the Lord for providing a guide for our drive home and for getting us home safely.

I still am amazed each time I reflect on this event.   The car was not in front of me previously, we were alone on the road  - - a lonely country road.  I did not see a car pull out from a driveway or side road.  And I did not recognize a neighbor as it continued on down my street.  I wonder, did I see an angel?  I do not have the answers.  But I am convinced that it was placed there for me in answer to my prayer.  This was not a coincidence nor was it my own ability that got us home safely that night.

The Big Blow of '98

In 1998 a storm came through leaving damage behind.  We were fortunate the damage, although rather extensive, it did not touch our home.  We were front row witnesses of watching God's hand of protection on our home and family.

May 15, 1998 was a very warm and muggy day.  The forecast  called for potential severe weather.  I made some preparations for this potential: washing dishes, doing a load of laundry, filling buckets of water for toilets, made bottles for the baby, made room for my car in the garage.  I wanted to put my car in the shed as the garage floor was littered with toddler toys, but the tractor was in the way.  So I quickly cleared out the garage floor.  I figured this was the type of storm that we could lose power for a few hours, maybe a bit of hail.  Little did I know...

I spent the morning caring for my babies, preparing for 'potential' weather, and enjoying the beauty of the current weather.  I sat on the screen porch we then had journaling and praying.  I remember being thankful for our home, the beauty of our surroundings, and the wonderful life I was leading.  I also prayed for our protection, specifically protection of our home and lives should storms develop. 

The weather was ripe for storms, very warm, high 90s (F) temperatures, muggy.  One could feel the conditions were ripe for big thunderstorms and maybe tornadoes.  As a child, I was overly afraid of storms, even an innocent dark cloud would send me under the covers.  I decided this particular day, that I would not pass this irrational fear to my children.

I laid my children down for their afternoon nap.  Fans running to try to stay cool in our unairconditioned home.  I kept an eye on the weather by watching the local news stations and radar.  Sure enough, a large storm was making a bee line for our neighborhood.  I stayed calm and remained alert.

The baby awoke first, wearing only a diaper, I placed her in her highchair to feed her.  I noticed the water coming in the back storm door.  I checked to make sure I had closed the window, which I had, and closed the heavier interior door.  My phone rang, it was my mom, wondering if I was doing okay, knowing my fear of storms.  I assured her all was well - remember I was not going to pass on my fear.   Then I glanced out the window, something was amiss, the shed didn't look right.  I called my mom asking her to come over after the storm, I thought we would likely need her as I thought something was 'wrong' with the shed.  The sirens started wailing near her home, she shrieked we all needed to head for cover... she lives a short three miles away.  Our community does not have the sirens, but Mom's does have these warning devices.  Definitely not the day to 'stay calm', I should have been in the basement.  I later learned all the neighbors had taken shelter in their basements.

 

( Before )

I grabbed the baby and headed to my toddler's room to awaken her from her nap.  It was then that I saw the tree down.  Oh!  That was the "booming" sound I heard.  Upon opening the door to my daughter's room, she said, "Mommy, it's storming."  I affirmed her in her astuteness and hustled her to the basement, grabbing the diaper bag, which always had a few snacks in it, on my way down the stairs.  We remained in our old, musty, non-liveable basement for a bit.   I was thankful for that diaper bag with the snacks and a blanket to wrap my nearly naked baby in to ward off the basement chill.  I remember singing "This Little Light of Mine" with my babies.

The phone rang again... my mom wondering how we were and shooing me back to the basement as another wave of storms was to be passing through shortly.  I looked at the shed... definitely it was tilted.  I returned to the basement awaiting the all clear.  The all clear came from my mother bursting through the back door and my husband's arrival home from work.

Remember my prayer of protection?  My husband was driving home during this weather, his timing was such that he missed the hail that caused considerable damage to other motorists, he missed the horrible winds, drove in mostly rain.  God protected him on his commute.



Recall my desire to put the car in the shed?  The garage was untouched.  But the shed was pushed 10 feet off it's foundation.  It definitely did not look 'right'.  The only reason it was standing was the roof was resting and being upheld by the smoke stack on the tractor.  The building was a total loss.  A sad event as it was a historical building, at one time having been a one room school house, moved and converted to a shed.  As we tore down the building, we saved the square nails that it had been used for its construction.  The shed is on the NW corner of our property.  God protected our car and our hobby farm equipment and tools.

 

We also lost 14, 50 foot pine trees, uprooted and laying across the lawn.  The majestic beauties stood in a line in our front yard from the road to the house on the SE side.  Two trees remain standing today, the two that would have fallen on our home crushing the bedroom where my daughter lay napping.  Closer to the house near, infront of those two trees was a huge Box Elder tree that lost branches in any heavy breeze, did not topple nor lose a branch.  God protected my daughter.

                                    (fallen trees)

                                                                                                     (fallen trees root balls)

On all sides damage had been done to our property.  In the middle stood our home which was completely untouched, not a shingle lost.  I had pulled, the previous day, a tumble weed looking old plant -  it lay on the grass where I left it.   The garage where the car was sheltered unscathed.  God protected our home.

The power?  Well, we had power, sort of.  When the shed was pushed off it's foundation it pushed against the guide wire to one of the power poles, making it lean and pulling taut all the power lines to the house.  They did not snap, but it was a precarious situation.  It was not safe to use the electricity. God protected us from live, broken power lines and potential fire.

An incredible testimony to God's faithfulness in our lives.  We have built a new shed and replanted trees.  But we remember His hand of protection always as we look at the remaining two trees tower over our house.

Tapestry of Prayer

I have been pondering a lot lately.  Many events are taking place world wide as well in my own life.  Change is a part of life and I don't always take change well.  Although I recently admitted to a friend that I sure do instigate a lot of change for someone who doesn't like change.  There is a paradox for you. 

I commute my daughter to and from school each day, the 25 minutes in the car each morning and afternoon leave my mind to wondering.  This morning I was spent time thinking about prayer and praying for one another.  Prayer is Biblical.  Jesus prayed, He prayed for others.... me in fact, He taught us to pray, He instructed us to pray for one another, He even instructed to pray for our enemies. 

It led me to wondering about all these prayers.  I fail to understand how God hears and answers all these infinite number of prayers offered up each and everyday.  But I have faith that He,the Alpha and Omega, is ever present, ever hearing, and can hear all and see all.  I also have faith that He always has been and always will be - - yesterday, today, and tomorrow. 

So I went down a rabbit trail of wondering as to what our prayers might look like in a tapestry. 

Revelation 5:8 (NIV) says that our prayers are an incense: 

And when he had taken it, the four living creatures and the twenty-four elders fell down before the Lamb. Each one had a harp and they were holding golden bowls full of incense, which are the prayers of God’s people. 

But what about a tapestry?  Do our prayers make a tapestry?  Woven in colors in a person's life or the world's existence.  I picture prayers of forgiveness in crimson red as they are covered by Christ's blood shed on the cross; bright jewel hues of praise and thanksgiving; beautiful and brilliant neons of obedience; intense and deep colors of prayers cried out in anguish; a rainbow of pastels of petitions in seeking God; clean and bright white prayers of righteousness; and purples with indigoes of the prayers of Jesus and the Holy Spirit.    My mind has created a lovely and beautiful picture of colorful prayers woven together.   I just wonder if there is something like that awaiting for us to view in Heaven; to show us how God has worked it out in our lives.

I anxiously await Heaven, to meet Jesus face to face, bow at His feet and profess my thanksgiving to bridging the gap of separation between I and His Father, granting me access to this wonderful place called Heaven.  I want to meet so many people of the Bible such as Ruth, Esther, Mary, Mary's parents, Paul, to name a few.  My list of those that I can't wait to be reunited with is lengthy and include grandparents and friends.  To have an end of pain and sorrow, to live the fashion that God intended before sin.  I am so anxious I can't stand it at times. 

For now I must satisfy myself of what the Bible tells me of Heaven.  But a girl can dream a little, can't she?

Newborns

When my heart is heavy is when I feel most like blogging. Isn't that interesting. This past week I ended a Bible Study, had an unfortunate confrontation over a mis-understanding, and hurt for the people of Japan experiencing the devastation of the earthquake and tsunami. So my heart is heavy.

In the midst of all this, I have something to share, unrelated to these items. And here I will share with you, those who are interested.

I am, admittedly, a baby lover. If there is a newborn in the room, that is likely where you will find me. I enjoy holding these precious children new to life. The are so trusting, warm, needy, and tiny. It is pure joy for me to hold these babies, admire their features, absorbed their warmth, in essence, snuggle.

On a recent Sunday morning, I had the privilege of holding such a baby. He is only about a month old. Tiny and new, and perfectly formed. The sermon of the morning was on Psalm 42&43. It was a good lesson from an knowledgeable teacher about the messianic message in these Psalms. Something I had not pondered previously.

However, during the sermon, holding this newborn, my attention had opportunity to wander to the newborn in my arms. And my thoughts went something like this, my own personal lesson of the morning:

This little guy is the third child in his family. He looks so much like his siblings, that I just know he belongs in their family. His pronounced chin is a family feature. When he screws up his face to yawn or to cry I see the same expression in his siblings, even at this young age, his mannerisms are the same... so many similarities.

We shifted positions from the arm cradle to chest-to-chest, he curled right in and fell asleep, secure and trusting. I must confess, my favorite snuggle position with a newborn. The ceiling fans had been turned on so I covered his little head with his blanket to protect him from the draft. However, his arm dangled leaving his hand for me to admire. Even looking at his hand, I could see the family resemblance. I often admired his mother's long fingers and this guy has the same long fingers. I thought, "Wow! Even his hand shows to whom he belongs."

My thoughts then shifted to an analogy... do others look at just 'my hand' and think "she belongs to Christ, I can see the family resemblence?" Do others see a facial expression or mannerism and see Jesus reflected? When one looks at me do they know to whom I belong? Am I so secure in the arms of Christ, that I turn into Him, relax, trust, and let Him carry and hold me, like this little guy, who doesn't know me, was doing?

These thoughts are overwhelming and deep. My own private lesson and challenge from my teacher, Jesus.