Let's Cross Over

Photo by Bgrace

"Pass through the camp and command the people, saying, 'Prepare provisions for yourselves, for within three days you will cross over this Jordan, to go in to possess the land which the Lord your God is giving you to possess.' "
Joshua 1:11 (NKJV)

"So it was, after three days, that the officers went through the camp; and they commanded the people, saying, when you see the ark of the covenant of the Lord your God, and the priests, the Levites, bearing it, then you shall set out from your place and go after it.  Yet there shall be a space between you and it, about two thousand cubits by measure.  Do not come near it, that you may know the way by which you must go, for you have not passed this way before."
Joshua 3:2-4 (NKJV)

"Then the priests who bore the ark of the covenant of the Lord stood firm on dry ground in the midst of the Jordan; and all Israel crossed over on dry ground, until all the people had crossed completely over the Jordan." (NKJV)
Joshua 3:17

After forty years of waiting and wandering and wondering, the day had finally come.  Joshua had crossed over the Jordan before with a group of eleven others but never at harvest time when the waters were raging high, overflowing their banks.  He had been this way before, but not in this way. 
Whether you're walking, swimming, sailing, or flying, going from one shore to another is often fraught with danger, full of unknowns, pregnant with possibilities.  The crossing over is an act of faith and a consent to sacrifice.
Joshua--Yeshua (meaning Savior)--was called to take the place of Moses over the people of Israel.  God established Joshua's appointment through this crossing over--so that the people would know that the Lord was with him. He also taught Joshua what he needed to know for the crossing over and for life on the other side.

1) "I will not leave you or forsake you."
2) Be strong and courageous.
3) Observe the Teaching given to Moses, speak it, meditate on it, observe it, and do it.
4) Your way will be prosperous and you will have good success. (You will have your inheritance.)
5) Sanctify yourselves in preparation for wonders the Lord will do among you.
6) Follow the Ark of the covenant, and the priests bearing it.  (The presence of the Lord.)
7) "The Lord Your God is with you wherever you go."

"On the same day, when evening had come, He said to them, "Let us cross over to the other side."
Mark 4:35

In the same way, Jesus called his disciples to cross over to another shore.
He navigated them straight into a squall. 
Yet even when He leads them into a storm, they are reassured by His presence and saved by His power as they cross over.

Let's cross over.
Yeshua Jesus goes too.
We take with us the reassurance that He is with us, He will not leave us or forsake us (cease to claim us).  He brings with Him power over tempests, the ability to halt raging rivers, and still all the earth can stir up around us.
He speaks faith to our fears. 

"I tell you the truth, whoever hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life and will not be condemned; he has crossed over from death to life." (NIV)
John 5:24

Today I Feel...

Today I feel...

Photo by Bgrace

A few years ago, my mother, who was a preschool teacher for many years, gave me a children's book entitled Today I Feel Silly and Other Moods That Make My Day.  It's one of my favorite books.  Mom said it reminded her of me.  I have always been known to wear my emotions on my sleeve. 

Tonight I was driving home from work, enjoying the quiet and the wind.  This deep sense of joy ached out of my chest.  I've been experiencing this for a few weeks now. I kept waiting for it to fade, but instead it keeps getting stronger and steadier.

The only way to describe what I am feeling is that I know that I'm home.  This sense of home has nothing to do with what is behind me or before me.  It has nothing to do with any earthly blessing or lack thereof.  It is knowing that my heart is fully God's. We can only know that we are anchored in that place when it has been tested, proven. 

It's joy, contentment, love, strength, freedom, and finding all in the blessing of nothing else but God, and everything else only because it comes in Him and from His hand.  That is the place I've been traveling to for a long time. 

Today I feel finally, fully...home.

Dar Luz

Dar Luz

Photo by Bgrace

My grandfather once told me this story of a missionary who went to the Amazon. He was new, just learning the language, and he needed some supplies. So he went to the village general store and asked for a candle. The owner gave him a puzzled look and asked what for. The missionary said, "You know, a candle, to give light." At this, the owner looked downright offended. The missionary realized something was a bit off in their communication. He discovered that instead of a vela (which means candle) he had asked for a velha (an old woman). But it gets worse. "Dar luz" which means give light, is also the Brazilian way of saying "to give birth", in other words to have a baby. So instead of asking for a candle for light, he'd asked for an old woman to bear his child. A great first impression.


To give birth, to give light. Life and light are often connected in the Scriptures. John 1 is a beautiful example of this. There is a sense of expectancy, something coming that has been in the works since the beginning, but is only now coming into its fullness.


I took the picture above the day after the snowfall earlier this week. I had let Sam out into the field to play and was so struck by the light on the snow that I ran in to get my camera. The whole field was blanketed in white and glistening with crystals. And I thought, "What would the redeemed world look like?"

Instead of the black night sky speckled with the light of the stars, maybe it will look like crystals on white snow.


I think it will be beautiful.

In the Doghouse (Repost from 2-11-09)

Photo by Bgrace

"It's like this, I said, "You messed with my baby. You hurt her. I know you didn't mean it, but it doesn't matter. I'm NOT happy with you. THAT'S my BABY." Sam just looked up at me with big sad brown eyes. I was much unaffected.

I was helping myself to all my favorite coping mechanisms. Well, not all...I saved the glass of wine for now. But hot chocolate, dark chocolate truffles and curling up under a warm blanket was all I had the energy for.

It started out as such a good day. Warm, sunny, and shopping. Matt is taking the girls (Grace and Em) to a ball next Saturday. It's a Daddy/Daughter dance and they get all dressed up and wear corsages and its held in the ballroom over at the Masonic Homes. So Sarah and I were going to look for frilly dresses for the girls. I was so excited, I thought I'd like to find a cobalt one for Grace, and a guilded orange one for Em. I decided to take Sam for a quick little run before putting him in the basement while we were gone. Well, Sam has this awful habit of wanting to play tug of war with the leash (I'm blaming Grandpa for this one). And Sarah followed me out, all happy with her popsicle, and Sam was so happy to be outside he was totally oblivious of her. I was trying to get the leash away from him, and pulled up and over on it. He jumped up really high to try and snatch it from me, and at that precise moment Sarah darted behind me and up under him. He landed right on top of her with all his weight (70 lbs) right on her back and jammed her face right into the pavement.

It was horrible. Sarah started screaming and blood was just gushing from her mouth. I couldn't let go of Sam, because the last thing I needed was to be running around the neighborhood after him when I might need to take Sarah to the ER. But he was so oblivious, he thought it was still time to play. So I'm balancing Sarah on my one arm and finally turned the end of the leash on Sam and whipped him on the nose with and and yelled, "Stop it." Well, he got my point.

He ushered himself down to the basement as soon as we got inside.

Well, I decided the dentist was closer, and they have emergency service there, so I made a quick call and they said they would see us right away. Sarah was crying for her Daddy--who has been in VA this week. I tried to call him 3 times and he didn't answer his phone. So now I'm mad at Sam (who was just being an idiot dog) and Matt wasn't too high up on the list either, (because he's supposed to KNOW that this is an emergency and answer his phone!)

Sarah quieted down when we went into the dentist and they let her sit on my lap in the big chair. Her face was all scraped up, her lip completely swollen, she had cut her tongue and had gravel chunks in her mouth. She was so good though and sat quietly while they examined her. Her front teeth were pushed a bit up and back into her gum and are all swollen and sore. She let them take X-rays, and look inside her mouth and under her lip.

Dr. White (Seriously, isn't that the greatest name for a dentist?) finally came in and asked her what happened and she said, "My Sammy jumped on my back and I got a boo boo." Dr. White looked at me when he was done and said, "It will heal fine, it looks a whole lot worse than it really is." And then he says, "I'm saying that to reassure you." I looked at him and nodded, "Oh, reassurance is good." And I started to get all misty. He was very comforting. I soaked it all in.  I think I was more traumatized than Sarah.

So of course when we were done we had to go cope together. I bought Sarah a slushy and Dora Band Aids, and Motrin, and french fries, and I probably would have gotten her a Mini Cooper if she had asked for it. I finally got a hold of Matt, and he felt so terrible for his baby and for not answering his phone I forgave him for not being in PA. Of course, when he came home tonight with a big heart balloon with a cow on it for Sarah (Its says give me a sMOOch) and flowers for me I forgot I was ever upset.
I went to the gym and poured all my stress into 4 miles of Evanescence. Now my tension's gone, and I'm just tired. So we're all recovering and coping, but I'm still mad at Sam.
No he's not still in the basement...at least not literally.

But I have two questions...Does God ever get as upset at people for hurting His babies as I do?

'Cause part of me kind of hopes He does.

And the second question is this.

Am I ever Sam?

'Cause the other part of me hopes He doesn't.

BTW: Matt just asked me if I wanted to know how much Sam weighs so I can put an add in the newspaper. Guess he's not over it either.

Gabriel Brothers

Backyard Butterfly

Photo by Bgrace

I’m learning that the significance of events in our lives can often be better understood over time. There is something meaningful and beautiful about what we receive in the moment. We shouldn’t allow that to be stolen--but distance can give us a broader understanding of significance. By significance, I mean an event’s importance, and also its meaning, scope, and its connection to other events in our lives. So that you may have more insight as to how I received the significance of the event I'm going to share with you, I’ll allow a few of my journal writings from the weeks surrounding it to give you a sense of what I was experiencing.

It was September 2007.
Everything seems to be hanging on life and death. Walking this path seems excruciating and I feel like I’m constantly doing a balancing act. I’m seesawing between fear and hope, a feeling of complete helplessness and a surge of need for control.  I want to have clarity and understand more, how, when, what—but every time I ask for things (these limits) what I get seems to be even more consuming. I’m hurting, I’m emotionally exhausted, spiritually dry and close to giving up hope. I’m tired. I want my life to be about more than this—something greater, larger, that feels more about others…but right now I feel too weak.
I want holiness, I want to be full of light and love and God’s glory. But all I seem to be filled with right now is pain and confusion. I don’t know how to move from here to there.
I don’t know what is real and what is not—so I’ll ask You to help me have clarity. It feels kind of like if I can bear up under the difficulty—the humiliation, the pressure, the confusion, then perhaps You can use me to do very important work. But I must trust that you will. So far, Lord, everything has been so blurry (seek me and you will find me He speaks into my mind) and so bleak. I’m definitely still in the desert.

It was in the midst of this seesaw of thoughts and emotions and events that I drove to Gabriel Brothers one afternoon. I don’t remember exactly what I was upset about that day or what in particular prompted such an outburst. It is possible it was nothing specific, rather an exasperation with my inability to reconcile what was going on inside of me with all that was occurring around me. All that I clearly remember was being so at the end of my ability to cope that I began screaming at the top of my lungs at God and pounding the steering wheel with my fists. Tears were streaming down my face—and yes, I was still driving. I was at the edge of all my frustration, desperation, and despair and I needed God to show up. To show me truth. To let me face whatever pain the truth would bring and get me through it no matter what the cost.
I pulled myself together before I went into the store. I was in the store a while—I used to sift my way through most of the clothing racks to see what I could find that would fit and that I liked. There was a calming rhythm to it. I used to work in retail—I worked as a store manager for a few years after college.  Going through the racks and sorting clothes had a way of calming me. I found myself at peace.  Finally I made my way to the dressing room. The girl who was attending the dressing room looked to be in her early twenties. She reminded me of a girl I had met from Nigeria once and as she spoke her English was heavily accented. She had counted my clothes and given me the appropriate number and turned back to her station. But then, a bit hesitantly, she said, “Ma’am, may I say something to you?”
“Sure,” I replied.
Then she spoke softly, looking off into the distance a bit, almost as if pained, “All over the world people’s hearts are crying. They are crying to God and He hears them. Then she looked directly into my eyes as if to make me understand and she said gently, “God hears your heart crying.”
Then she looked at the floor as if she felt uncomfortable about saying something so personal to me and unsure as to how I would respond. Oh, how I saw myself in her at that moment. So I put all my own emotions and thoughts over her words on hold for the moment and said to her what I knew I would have wanted someone to say to me.
Gently, but very directly I asked her, “Did God tell you to say that to me?” She nodded.
“Thank you,” I said. “Keep listening, and keep being obedient.”
She looked at me and I could see that she had been a bit overwhelmed at her last assignment. “I’m trying,” she said.

I’m guessing I went to the dressing room after that. I have no idea whether I purchased anything or not. It didn’t matter. All that mattered to me at that moment was that God had answered me. He had answered me in a way that couldn’t have been contrived by my imagination, through a girl whose heart was so pure and so torn over speaking the truth in love that I knew it wasn’t from the deceiver, and He had said He HEARD me. At the time, I took that to mean that my pain was significant to Him, just as all the other people who were feeling such depth of pain were significant to Him, and that He wasn’t condemning me. I also remembered my Seminary professor’s teaching about Israel and that every time in Scripture it said, “God heard,” it meant “God answered.” Also, I felt reassured that God was very much a part of what was happening to me.  It wasn’t in my imagination, and Satan wasn’t in control of my mind or my heart or my circumstances. God had heard, and God would answer.

It wasn’t until I understood more about God's calling on my life that I realized that this incident—though still meaningful to me in those ways--would connect me to something far beyond what I could see at the time. And it wasn't until going through my writings from that time period that I realized that God was very much in the process of answering the prayers and questions of my writings.

How to Fit the Ocean in a Cup

Photo by Rodger and Bgrace

It was family Sunday. Which meant Grace sat in the "grown up" service with us. It was also communion. I hadn't ever taken communion with Grace before. The band was playing Redman's version of "Nothing But the Blood" and we took our place in line to get our bread and cup. I looked down at Grace and told her to take one of each, but to wait until we were seated to do anything.
As Grace reached for the elements I was thinking about how to explain communion to her and suddenly I got all choked up. My eyes filled with tears and I could barely see where I was walking. I knew I needed to pull it together so I could be helpful to her, so I did my best and talked with her about it. Then following the Pastor's lead we all took communion together.

I wasn't crying because I was being sentimental about Grace taking her "first" communion.
I wasn't crying because in that moment I was overwhelmed by the sacrifice of Christ on her behalf.
It's a bit more complicated than that.

A couple weeks ago during my weekend in the mountains with some friends, we sat in a circle and had a blessed time of prayer together and at the end we shared communion. I read out of John, but one of my friends began to talk about the Corinthians passage. Her words still echo in my ears, "Each time you drink this cup you show forth my love."
Technically, the passage says covenant, not love. But if it's not a covenant of love than I don't know what is.
Technically the passage is referring to the sacrament of taking the cup in remembrance of Jesus' sacrifice. But we are called to remember so that we can become like Him.
Christ calls us to drink the cup of sacrifice. It is when we do this that we most clearly show forth the love of Christ.

How many times, Lord?
Each time.
What will you ask of me next Lord?
Drink this cup.
Remind me why?
You show forth my love.Then it is worth it. At this point in my journey, that's what I think about when I take communion. Am I willing to be like you Jesus? Will I be willing to be a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable, and pleasing to you?
Will I continue to show forth your covenant of love every time you ask me to drink the cup?

Its a heavy thing to consider.
Then when I saw Grace take her little cup of purple juice everything in me just went off the charts.
What does it mean for me to teach her to love like Jesus loves? To go beyond the pseudo-christian "I love the feeling that you love me so I'm gonna say I love you back" love? To love with the love of Christ, a love vaster far than any ocean.

I KNOW what this kind of love means, and almost everything in me wants to protect her from it.
And yet, there's this little whisper in the corner of my heart that says, "No matter what you wouldn't trade who you are now for who you were before you walked this path." And I know that is true.
So I know that I will teach Grace to take the cup.
In remembrance and in likeness of the One I pray she will come to reflect more and more.
It will pain me to see her go through it.
I can only imagine what Mary went through at the foot of the cross.
But I won't keep it from her.

The love of God, an ocean of love, fits perfectly inside the cup of sacrifice.
To drink it, is to know what love is.
To drink it, is to show what love is.

Love

Sarah & Branches

Photo by Bgrace

Love Letters

What is love that is not possessive?

That seeks only to give in a way that is good, right, and fitting

Without thought of what will be returned

Without regard for loss

Without need for permanence

The desire to belong consumes us to be knit so intimately

Until we can’t tell where one begins and another ends

Where there exists such harmony in spirit

That in giving to the other we experience the full blessing of receiving

Yet our love of self so deftly taints that which could be

It becomes wildly possessive and keeps its object constrained

To protect?

Or to avoid loss

Is there a difference between the bounds of covenant and the bounds of love?

God’s love knows no bounds

He is Spirit and in Him we live and move and have our being

Can we know boundless love in Spirit?

Not if we are bound to love in return for love

His covenant to us is always extended unconditionally

Yet we are free to accept it or reject it

Do we love God unconditionally?

He ordains blessing for one and suffering for another

Grace and punishment, healing and sickness, life and death

His love manifests itself in variably perfect ways because our life is about glory to Him

He loves us enough to guide us to a place where our lives can reflect His glory

I long to learn

To love in a way that will not harm

With truth and purity and abandon

With regard only for the soul and spirit of another

Not my own gain

To be willing to move my soul into my actions

So that God’s love may be known in every breath and movement

To be willing to suffer loss, to be humbled, to face rejection

As I die to having my own needs met as payment for all that I lay down

I turn my eyes to heaven

And wait expectantly for love to fall upon me like the rain

In those moments, my love is safe,

In those moments, my love is His love.

Compiled notes from my journal 11-24-05

Love Letters Originally Posted on Deep Calls

November 19, 2006

Enlightenment



Photo by Bgrace

I was looking at this picture this morning.  It whispered a bidding to step out onto the water and walk toward Jesus—to trust Jesus that much and trust my own ability to discern His leading.

How beautiful the path He has laid out for my feet. I hadn’t been able to see it until He illuminated it for me, which He has been doing over time. It’s such a breathtakingly precious path…like following a trail of crystals.

As I was reflecting, Sarah was rummaging in my cupboards again, and I reached her just as she pulled out a hand full of white powdery cornmeal which she let go all over the floor. I was trying to hide my irritation as I cleaned up the floor.  As I turned toward Sarah, I saw that she was standing in the path of a sunbeam streaming in from the kitchen window, rubbing her hands together and watching the powder float off her fingers and glisten in the light. She was mesmerized.

I recognized the wonder and delight in her eyes—and I thought—yes Sarah, that’s how I feel too.

Promises on the Kitchen Floor



Photo by Bgrace

I was up this morning with Matt, and the house was very still and quiet. Matt was sitting at the kitchen table and he looked over into the living room and said, "I love the way the living room looks at this time of the morning."
Sunlight was causing the curtains to glow.  He asked me to take a picture of it. I played with the lighting a bit, and took a few shots. I was putting my camera away and Matt pointed to the floor beside me. What do you know? Rainbows at my feet. There were several thin rays and one large one that shot from the doorway to the wall. The colors were surprisingly bright and distinct. God's promises for today.
I'll share with you Amy Carmichael's words from this morning's reading:

"We shall find Him ready as the morning, ready to meet us and bless us as the sunrise is ready every morning to bless the world." Hosea 6:3 (Septuagint)
But before there could be dawn in this world of ours, tremendous things had to happen in space. It was not a little thing to God to create a dawn. And in the spiritual world tremendous things had to be, before our darkness could be enlightened by the Eternal Dawn. Calvary had to happen. Calvary was God's preparation for our Sunrise.
Whispers of His Power

Fireflies



Photo by Bgrace


There are times things you’ve seen a thousand times before catch your fancy in a fresh way. Last year I found it to be so with fireflies. Their light at dusk seemed distinctly precious to me for some reason.

One evening, I took a walk on my path through the gardens and I asked the Lord to allow me to feel a close sense of His presence. I began to notice the fireflies. Just a couple here and there, but I sensed He was pointing them out to me as if to say, “I’m blessing you with this little bit of beauty.” My spirit felt caressed with warmth and I walked with God through the trees and flowers, sharing my heart and listening for His.

Yet there’s this part of me that always questions the reality of my experience, like maybe it’s just all in my imagination. Weeds of distrust choking the delicate blossoms of my faith. Deep down, I know it is He who "walks and talks with me and tells me I am His own," but that has been attacked so profoundly in my spirit that a shadow hovers over my shoulder. “It is you, isn’t it?” my insecurity whispers.

I began to descend the hill toward home, and as I turned and faced the open field below I stopped at the sight before me.  The entire field was aglow with the light of fireflies. Thousands of fireflies. I was filled with awe. I’ve never seen it that way before or since that day. It was as if God was gently reassuring me with this question, “How many fireflies do you need to believe? Is this enough?”

I was reminded of a book on my shelf called Voice of Many Waters. In it was this poem by Lois Kilgore.

Still Light
Did you ever chase a firefly
Over shadowed dewy lawns?
Laughing, screaming at the beckoning
Twinkle as it led you on?

I remember underneath the
Giant Oak, I captured one,
Bore it home, my cupped hands trembling,
Bore it home, my light, my own.

In a jelly jar with leaves and
Bits of twigs and new-mown grass,
Crawled my prize, his life slow-sifting
Through his chambered hourglass,

Dimmer, dimming—then we slept,
And in the morning on a leaf
I saw a beetle, stiff and ugly,
Saw a bug and learned of grief

Have you tried to bottle love,
Or tried to capture things that shine?
“God,” I said, “my firefly died.”
“Yours?” said God, “His light was mine.”

I felt a bit disoriented by this poem. It touched me deeply, but my mind was scurrying to understand it in light of my experience. Then its message gripped me. How many times do I want to put the fireflies God shows me in a jar to prove to myself He really does speak to me? How many times do I want to bottle my experience so others will see the light of the firefly, and believe me? In the end all I have to show is a dead beetle!

God is always and forevermore the Giver of Light. He is the only One who can give transcendent truth through His creation. It is not the light of a firefly, but His light in the firefly that speaks.
So I will no longer try to catch the firefly to reassure myself. I will cling to His presence and the beautiful ways He has of revealing Himself and His promises to me. I will trust the Giver, not the gift. Instead of offering you dead beetles, may the writings of my experiences point you to the source of Light. It is not important that God speak to you in the way He speaks to me, but that you open yourself up to the possibility that there is a God who speaks in many ways to His children—even, at times, through fireflies. May my writings lead you to open your spirit to listen to Him, to believe in Him, and to be with Him—a God who can’t be kept in a jar.

“How precious are Your thoughts to me, O God!
How vast the sum of them!
If I should count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand.
When I awake, I am still with You.”
Psalm 139:17-18

Take My Soul



The View from Mount Katahdin
Photo by Bgrace

God will take the soul by the hand and lead her through the way of pure faith, "and causing the understanding to leave behind all considerations and reasonings He draws her forward….Thus He causes her by means of a simple and obscure knowledge of faith to aspire only to her Bridegroom upon the wings of love.” "Let her (the soul) suppose that all the whole world and the most refined conceptions of the wisest intellects can tell her nothing, and that the goodness and beauty of her Beloved infinitely surpass all their knowledge, being persuaded that all creatures are too rude to inform her and to conduct her to the true knowledge of God….She ought then to go forward with her love, leaving all her understanding behind. Let her love God as He is in Himself, and not as her imagination says He is, and pictures Him.”
Michael de Molinos (as quoted by A.W. Tozer in The Knowledge of the Holy)
There are many times when I am afraid to pray this prayer into fruition.
For good reason.
It is a very frightful thing to leave behind what we once knew.
To accept God's revelation of Himself to us without censor.

And the voices of the skeptics rain down.

What will it cost me to take this hand? It cost Molinos his life to write these words. He was condemned as a heretic in the Inquisition and died in prison.

But what is it to leave behind reason when one moves onward into Divine love?

Dissonance



Photo by Bgrace



You mean what you say

But you can't mean it all

Take something away

Let one voice call

I hear your words speak

But they don't ring clear

My heart lies meek

Willing to hear

And I open it up to you

Again

I open it up

To caverns of pain

They say when its dark

The sky is still blue

But red seems to be

Your favorite hue

What's left to hold on to

On my way to the floor

I curl up at your feet

To be pierced to the core

8 Years

Grace at 8
Photo by Bgrace

You learn something new every day, they say. Last week I learned what a magenta crayon looks like after a 1 year old sneaks it into your dishwasher and you have the cycle set on heated dry. Yesterday I learned that Sam is big enough to nab food off the kitchen counter top. Today I learned that it does matter if you use margarine made with corn oil instead of butter in the cupcake batter.

Eight years ago today I learned what it was like to go into labor. I was induced two weeks before my due date because Grace was already almost 9 pounds and I was NOT about to have a 10 pound baby. So I was encouraged into giving birth with petocin and a long hook they use to break your water. Matt, being the scientist that he is, was enthralled with the machine I was hooked up to. It monitored each contraction and spit out a scrolling printout of what was happening to my body. There’s really nothing quite like a full blown contraction. I remember lying there tied to the machines feeling my belly harden and cramp, I sucked in all the oxygen from the room and squeezed my hands around the supports on my bed. Matt had the printout in his hands and looked up at the screen, excitedly he informed me, “Hey, you're having a contraction!”
No kidding, Babe.

Eight years ago today I learned what it was like to hold the baby I had carried for 9 months in my womb. She was the most beautiful baby in the whole world…like all my babies. There is nothing quite like that first time. The first time I wrapped my arms around the bundle that only seconds before was in my belly. The first time I introduced myself and promised her I’d take care of her. The first time I kissed her eyelashes and drew my nose over her face and whispered I love yous in her ear. The first time I held her to my breast and felt the strong suckle of a hungry infant. The first time we fell asleep together after a grand adventure.

Eight years ago today I became a Mom. There’s nothing quite like it. Love like you’ve never known before. Tired like you’ve never imagined. Touched by another human being in the deepest part of your soul in a way you’ve never experienced. Moved to care for, nurture, protect, and pour the best parts of yourself into a little person—physically, emotionally, spiritually. And that’s only the first couple of minutes.

I’ve learned a lot of new things over the past 8 years. Many of them from you, Baby Grace. And today I just wanted to say thank you.
I love you.

Happy Birthday

Deep Water

 

For a Catch
Photo by Bgrace

  "One day, as Yeshua was standing on the shore of Lake Kinneret, with the people pressing in around him in order to hear the word of God, he noticed two boats, pulled up on the beach, left there by the fishermen, who were cleaning their nets. He got into one of the boats, the one belonging to Shim'on, and asked him to put out a little way from shore. Then he sat down and taught the people from the boat. When he had finished speaking, he said to Shim'on, "Put out into deep water, and let down your nets for a catch." Shim'on answered, "We've worked hard all night long, Rabbi, and haven't caught a thing! But if you say so, I'll let down the nets." They did this and took in so many fish that their nets began to tear." (Luke 5:1-6 JNT)

"Put out into deep water..."

The other day these words called to me and drew me in. Isn't it often after a long night of casting with nothing to show for it but heavy eyes and a dirty net that the Lord comes and calls us to put out into deep waters? Peter wasn't one of the ones pressing in to hear Jesus' teaching.  He was sitting in his boat.  I think he was too tired. He was at the end of his strength, his resources, his abilities.

Do you experience those times when you feel like you're in a haze? Everything internally just seems to run together and nothing feels clear, you take a step but you don't really know if its forward or backward. You sit, and you wait, you read and you listen.  You vascillate and you want so much to come up with some answers, or to see that all your work hasn't been in vain. Yet it seems you are surrounded with nothing but empty nets.

Jesus comes to us at this moment and says, "I'll go with you--let's go out into deep waters."

It seems He calls us right when we reach the point of not trusting anymore, doesn't it?

That space of time when we put all our effort in and see no results.

I'm learning that an important part of any miracle is the space between our effort and God's provision. Without that space, we won't recognize the miracle.

Well, Lord, I've been fishing all night. I got nothin. Now you want me to lean in deeper?

Yet, there is a promise in the call--don't miss it.
"Let down your nets for a catch."

My Lord,
Thank you for calling me out into deep waters.
If You say so, I will let down my net one more time.
Even when I wonder if it will do any good, when I feel like giving up, when it is all I can do to sit in the silence and the emptiness and the waiting for You to speak.
Because those are the conditions that must be present for me to recognize You.
Your voice, Your presence, Your work, Your miracle.
You are calling me into deeper waters, and I need a bigger space to make room for what you have to teach me.
I will remember Your call comes with promise and with purpose.
Make me a fisher of women and of men.

Sorrow and Love

Little Lambs
Photo by Bgrace

Sorrow and love flow mingled down.
The words come from the hymn "When I Survey the Wondrous Cross."
A couple of weeks ago we sang this hymn in church. As we sang that line sorrow and love flow mingled down it was like a whole universe of meaning and understanding opened up to me. I realized that I knew what that felt like. In my journey, I have had but a whisper of the experience of Christ, but it has been the most beautiful whisper that ever echoed in my soul.

What sorrow He must have felt in the midst of betrayal, rejection, and contempt.
What pain from the abuse He suffered.
What shame when others accused Him of raising himself up against God in the midst of the most difficult acts of submission ever imagined.

And yet in the midst of His sorrow He looked on us with love, with grace, with compassion, and hope.
Did it ever occur to you that He gave all that He had, knowing full well that those He gave to might never receive Him, that we might never return His love, that we might never believe Him? What a shame, what a waste, some might say. But in the end...that is not why He gave. He gave out of His love for us, but He did it unto the Father. Not my will but yours be done.

May your kingdom come in and through us Lord,

May you destroy every argument and proud obstacle that is raised up against the knowledge of God.

Give us Your Spirit to guide us.

Give us truth in the innermost parts of our beings.

Give us faith to believe all and only that which is true.

Give us purity of heart that we may desire only that which You desire us to desire.

Give us courage and strength to do all that you ask us to do.

May we live in humility, in fear of God--not man or woman.

May we live for Your glory and not our own.

And may we learn to love with the love of the cross, the love of Christ Jesus:
"Who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness.
And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death--even death on a cross."
Philippians 2:6-8 RSV