My portion of Hope.

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KingsLanding 034

:::::::::”The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in him.” +Lamentations 3:24

He purchased Hope for us.

So we could breathe hope in like oxygen to a parched lung to quench our soul’s desire::::

When He breathed His last human breath and took everything of our beat-down, broken-bleeding, barren mess with Him:::

He took it when the curtain ripped top- bottom and the Earth shook and it was finished.

He took it all:::

:::that little doubt and unbelief that seeps and creeps in the crevices of our hearts?

He answered that with His hope.

::: that little jump of your heart that giggles in expectation?

Hope.

:;; that place in your heart reserved for all that is to be and no matter what happens to you, you can still feel it right there, where it has always, always resided?

Hope.

He answered it all with that tiny one-syllable word::

Breathed out in an exhale of lightening::

:::::hope:::::

because He had hope for His beloved. On that splintering cross.

You.are.His.beloved.

::::::And He has great hope for you.

He breathed hope into the life of His Son so that He on Earth could gather us in and speak this life-giving gift called hope into our searching, longing, life-wanting, desolate hearts.

::::::::::::: And again Isaiah says, “The root of Jesse will come, even He who arises to  rule the Gentiles; in Him will the Gentiles hope.” +Romans 15:12

Hearts like ours need hope like His.

Oh, to hope!

Doesn’t that bind us all together and keep us hemmed in and moving and open starry-eyed dreams and just drip of things unseen?

Sometimes we fail to even name it::: Hope::: but that is what it is.

Even when I’ve left hope un-named and un-noticed when things bear up rocky and un-anchored:

When my brother passes and I dare to smile and remember at the mention of his name,

When I pray over my little ones and ask the Lord to draw them close to Him and I rest in that,

When we argue for a full two hours and we look at one another in exhaustion and forgive,

When the baby is gone and I have not carried but barely three months, but we grieve and start anew,

When I see her six pound eleven ounce bundle of pink and love and made by him and me and I fall down in darkness and I can not crawl my way off my pillow and I look up at my love when he says to me::: this will pass::: and I feel relief in his three little words,

When the last of the crickets sing in the Summertime and I look longingly at the lake and notice the flutter of leaves already and soak in the late August day…

Hope!

We are made for ::: Living!

We are made for ::: Hoping!

And

we can hope;

we can hope all things,

in Him.

According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you… +1 Peter 1:3-4

Spring-ing.

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Spring is my un::favorite.

The least of the favorites.

Although there is always something I favor in each season God gives: flowers anew, mud puddles, cool lake on a hot day, ice shining on the trees, pumpkins rolling down the hill after Thanksgiving is over.

{Thanksgiving::: never over}

But I with the voice of thanksgiving… +Jonah 2:9

But Spring: it’s the un:favorite of the favorites, despite the creeping green seeping across the renaissanced Earth.

I do not know why::: really.

I never hasten Winter to leave me.

The cold is when I feel alive in my skin with snowflakes on eyelashes and bundled close in my scarf and I feel the wind on my cheeks and see the world washed white and the sleeping earth rests and I breath in fresh and crisp and listen to the silence loud in the trees and soak in the woodfire crackling and adore cozy nights in pajamas after a long day chilled outside…

I like the blanket swaddled warm on our babies and the lights dimmed settled on the couch for movies and popcorn and me and tea and books while the branches sway and creak outside in frigid air and snowy darkness and I imagine everything quiet in woods and animals nestled and how stars are crazy- visible: bright and burning on nights like these: everything sharp and arctic, raw- beautiful and invigorating…

I am comfortable in Winter. When things are hibernating a bit.

Kind of not moving and not hurrying.

Torpid like the turtle with its head in the mud at the bottom of a pond.

Sleepy like the bear who fattened himself up and dozed off in a dark den somewhere.

In the North where I live, Winter is comfort to me. I prefer it.

My boreal blanket wrapped soundlessly about me in my tiny no-green-light- town in the woods to keep me warm and comfortable.

Spring.

Spring::: Well, Spring expects something.

Spring wants water running and thirst quenched and rays beating down hard on fallow ground:::

Spring says Wake Up and Get Up and bloom and grow and ripen and rise and thrive and build and flourish and burst and stretch and…

Abound.

Whoa. Spring. Hold up.

I like some slumbersome Winter.

Nothin’ too radical like that, Spring.

Like breaking ground and shooting up leaves from a seed carcass laying on dry ground.

That.

That is hard. Takes energy. Lots of it.

{by your endurance, you will gain your lives. +luke 21:19}

Strength. Lots of it.

{…be strong in the Lord and in the strength of His might. +eph 6:10}

Trust, too. Like that there will be enough water and the Son will shine bright enough and the growing will be painful but for the good anyway. To break out like that.

Bold, buoyant and believing.

{blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord… +Jer 7:17}

Spring::: you are a new adventure that I can have faith in, aren’t you?

Winter::: you were nice and quite snug, thanks for the rest, for the refresh.

I have to go, though. This is a new beginning.

Because that is what He says.

{The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge… +proverbs 1:7}

Abound.

Abound in good works.

Abound in love.

Abound in faith.

Abound in belief.

Abound in grace.

Abound in mercy.

Abound in forgiveness.004

Abound in Him.

{and maybe a little rebound, too? He is right there waiting…

…For the Lord will not forsake His people; He will not abandon His heritage… +psalm 94:14}

Let’s abound in Him.

Growing and flourishing and rooting ourselves deeply in all of His promises.

Oh, the gift of that.

And while we enjoy His gift of growth, we can keep looking forward…

to the season of His

Harvest, too.

Until then,

Let’s rejoice together.

In our Springtime.

“Look, I tell you, lift up your eyes, and see the fields are white for harvest. Already the one who reaps is receiving wages and gathering fruit for eternal life, so that the sower and reaper may rejoice together…”

+Jesus

His: despite myself.

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208He saves me.

Because that is why He came and took on skin and stable and ridicule and testing and exhaustion and mockery and a cross laid timber on his beaten, world-heaving, sin-bearing back.

To save me.

Not because of anything I am.

Not because of anything I do.

Not because of anything I say.

Because He is Who He says He is.

He IS Who He SAYS He is.

And that is enough.

Because He says it is.

He says He walked this broken Earth and tread on the serpent and gathered His sheep and died on that hill and shed the shroud in that tomb and showed Himself again:::

Just like He promised.

To save me.

To save me everyday from who I am.

A sinner.

A sinner who sins.

He saves me every God-given, God-gifted, God-grace-filled-to-the-brim day of my life.

He rescues me.

He delivers me.

He frees me.

He unshackles me.

He redeems me.

He looses me.

He liberates me.

He ransoms me.

He saves me.

:::: to Himself.

Because He loves me and He forgives me.

He forgives me.

Fall on my knees, lay down at His feet, bow my head to Him, close my eyes, whisper His name, sing softly His mercy poured over me, on my knees, rise up and praise Him for His love with psalms spoken aloud, hands lifted high with thanksgiving, head looking to the heavens, standing on His strength, clothed in righteousness and breathing in His one-way gifted grace to me…

Because of Who He is,

He has told me who I am::::

I am His.

I am His.

:::: humbled.

On the days that are awash with frustration and fear and discontent and isolation and uncertainty and everything that is not of Him… Oh, what can I be sure of?

That I am His.

And He is mine.

My Savior.

The Mighty One Who Saves.

Once.

And then again. and again. and again!

Joy.Joy.Joy.Joy.

Down in my heart.

Down in my heart.

To stay.

Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and uphold me with a willing spirit. +Psalm 51:12

the breathing out

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earlyoct08 014He was out on the old tractor at our family Farm.
Rolling on black tires tall,
Meandering through the high grass
Mowing it away
harvesting his refreshment
Happy to find time alone, although he didn’t say.
A breezy afternoon, red Farmall plaid shirt and jeans with a fleece kind of day.
A little late for mowing this year,
Golden rod bowing their heads in the field by now, swaying in the How Majestic is Your Name chorus,
As my love exercises an Eden- gift of dominion over the land, back and forth, to the edge and return,
Back and forth :::
across the once-pasture
Entering into the praise-song of the Earth,
back and forth::
Praising the Creator on this day, blessed to breathe in,
                                   :: back and forth
And I
busying myself about the farmhouse,
sorting the silver and throwing the gingham dishtowel about my shoulder
hearing the slam-click of the screen door while the kids wildly scream in freedom and laughter
Wondrously realizing satisfaction to the once-eluded primal pull of house and home::
soaking in::
giggling in the moment of sheer peace
                                                      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
My Gramma arrives early for Pinochle
While crockpot chicken-dill stew bubbles
And I forget to make the brownies
So I greet Gramma in her pearls and ice-blue cardigan that matches her eyes
And to find my own Mama, still outside
hurting in the deep- broken- breaking of this world
and wrap my arms about her too and look in those inherited- blue eyes
Saying::
Let’s go, let’s play a game ::
Can I get you a drink::
Let us sit,
Glad you came,
Today is the day the Lord has made,
A gorgeous day,
The weather you love, right, Mama? Remember?
Breathe it in, Mama, that chorus, do you hear it?
Out in the field, the hallelujah chorus?
The whirr of the tractor cannot out-do it, Mama::
I promise.
The Earth pours it out to Him and you just need listen::
It’s all praise,
Mama, you just breathe, because He cares for the sparrow, you know that,
                                                 ~smile
I know you do.
Praise Him, even when all is hard, Mama.
I inhale deeply, quietly
too
eyes closed with
thanks, wonderment
                                   :: weariness
as I linger to the screen porch.
The sparrow,
The lilies,
Yes, Lord.
Yes, Lord.
My brownie bowl cradled in my arm,
wooden spoon circling,
I call through the screen to my love who has rested a moment
outside
on the tractor looking at the sky:
::::Gramma wants to watch you mow, I say
I whisper in my heart to him:
{She wants to! To really stare out to the trees and the sky of brilliance and the Son that warms and join the chorus and fill that deep longing to praise she can not quite satisfy!}
Wait, Love, to say hello to her before you go
And my Mom is here too and she’s broken in pieces, Love…
{She says she can’t, Love, she says she cannot find Him now in the midst of this pain. Can I say to her with truth and faith in the middle of this:: praise Him? Can we reflect Him by our doing? Can she watch you refresh yourself in Him as you busy yourself in His Creation? Can I serve her here in this place where I am and where she is and let Grace fill in our brittle cracks?}
He smiles his smile
That God-gifted smile
the one that belongs only to him
and to me:: us, together
The smile that makes me breath
quietly reassured
The smile full of God-given wisdom in the middle of this open, baring field
The smile that knows where I have been
and knows where we are going::
                             {with Him}
             :::: joining the hallelujah::::
the smile of my love whispers to me as he sits atop a farmer’s seat in the sun
and
I stand in the shade waiting:
{Yes, he smiles, yes, THIS is where we are and who we are in Him and this is where He has us and this our walk in His will today. We are strong in Him. I’m going to mow now. Have fun playing Pinochle! Go…}
And all he needs to say aloud as I watch his smile…
He waves and yells out, loud enough for her to hear,
HI GRAMMA!
I set the timer for the brownies,
gather the well-worn Pinochle cards,
while I pour my mama a glass, right full,
peering through the window at the giggles and quarrels in the sandbox,
I settle in a chair on the porch where I can face the field,
so when I look up from my cards, I can see him,
praising God with his hands,
as he joyfully toils,
with the ravens flying
and the pines whispering
and the apples ripening
and the clouds moving
joining in the Everything-That-Hath-Breath-Praise-The-Lord Chorus
And I have no choice,
no desire,
to do anything else, but be right here, in this place
in this place,
Where God has called me to
for this moment,
Where Earth and sky and obedience and brokenness and submission and gentleness and thanksgiving and uncertainty and peace all meet:::
::: in the wide open field of PRAISE.
“Oh, come let us sing to the Lord; let us make a joyful noise to the Rock of our salvation! Let us come into His presence with thanksgiving; let us make a joyful noise to him with songs of praise! For the Lord is a great God… In His hands are the depth of the Earth; the heights of the mountains are His also.  The sea is His, for He made it, and His hands formed the dry land… 
We are the people of His pasture, and the sheep of His hand…”
Psalm 95

the aroma

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089
She came to Him, quietly, with her alabaster jar.
Her face, sweet, like the oil held.
She came to Him, reverently, with her sin breaking in His heart.
Her hair, flowing, like His mercy.
She came to Him, helplessly, with her one gift.
Her repentance, spilling, like His forgiveness.
She came to Him, simply, with her offering.
Her humility, pouring, like His grace.
He said,
Let her come to Me.
  Oh, she did.
She emptied her heart and her flask to Him,
The sin ::
so expensive to her soul,
Tumbling out with the oil unto His feet,
Giving it all
All::
All of it::
To Him, to take with Him:
To take with Him:
Please, take it from me, she yearns.
“She has done a beautiful thing…”
She wipes the King’s feet, dusty, worn, travelled, tired::
With her crown of locks::
He wipes her offenses away::
With His crown of righteousness.
This King::
Come to this world::
“…what she has done will also be told in memory of her…”
We?
Remembered?
Yes.
Oh, that gift of grace.
Our sins?
Oh,no…
Remembered?
No, my friend.
They are wiped away.
Wiped away with Him.
Oh, that gift of grace.
                                               ::::::::::::::::::::
And the aroma of her oil-gift filled the room.
And the aroma of His blood-gift imminent filled the room.
And the aroma bursting breaking into the night,
as it followed Him,
stayed with Him,
                                                                         :: I think::
Through the breaking bread,
           “Take, eat…for the forgiveness of sins…”
Through the blood-sweating prayer to His Abba,
           “My soul is very sorrowful… Father… let this cup pass…”
Through the fleeing of his friends,
            “Friend… do what you came to do…”
The scent of the 
NEED of the world 
continued with Him,
remained with Him,
stayed with Him,
Through the binding and the shouting and the mocking and the striking and the pulling and carrying and the mother:
watching, shattering::
and the crying, and the pushing, and the parading, and the jeering and the hurting and the scarring and the nailing and the bleeding and the
breathing:::
 
The final breath of
sacrifice…………….
when the aroma of LOVE broke free:::
:::unbound, uncensored, unkept,
Unleashed:::
and the fragrance of grace poured like oil over the world…
                                                                                                             

Fear and Victory

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(from May 2012)KingsLanding 062

You know,

When that little fear that you swallow in uncertainty rises in your throat and forms a faith-less lump in the pit of your stomach?

When your priorities are askew

and the pride settles itself in a cozy corner of your pocket and you decide that you can take care of the world,

your world,

and you forget where your praying knees are

and you think you know something,

and it’s all figured out
because you figured it out…
Alone

and those bible verses you diligently rehearsed are glimmering somewhere in your mind,

Whatever is true, whatever is honorable,
whatever is just, whatever is pure,
whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable,
if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise,
think about these things.
Phillipians 4

But
they become a faint whisper on some days when the willy-nilly wind is blowing just right

And needless fear roots itself in the absence of your seeking Him,

and the words fade away
in the whirlwind of decision-making, doubt and dread.

Dusty.

And you end up beaten-down and searching, low and discontented…

Where?
…are those words that prompt the steady beat of my heart?
Where?
…is the Voice that calms the dissonance and straightens me when my path becomes tired and winding?

With me.
All that time.

All that time I was walking on my own strength,
All that time I feared,
All that time I questioned,
All that time I felt alone,
All that time I was isolated in that deep crook where the enemy and the flesh kept me…

Until, we, with that one weak, yet strong
upward glance,

when you stretch out your arms into His perfect love

Where

He plucks you out of fear’s craggy hand and

Settles you
deep in the comfortable blanket of His Word,

His words,

written on your heart,
in the folds of the pages,
in the encouraging voice of a friend,

dusted off

and spoken right out loud
Yes, right out loud:

The Lord is on my side; I will not fear.
Psalm 118

out of darkness and into the light

until the fear goes running

and the loneliness flees

and He cradles you and keeps you

and His perfect timing comes knocking to rescue you
Again and always

and you have that moment when you wonder why the worry wallowed so long
and why you allowed your heart to harbor it
and you let yourself languish in a moment of fear when you know the mighty hand that keeps you—-
and you say

and why didn’t I run to you first, Lord?
and He grabs your hand as a loving Father does and quiets you in His blessed assurance…

That He has you.
That He keeps you.
That He knows us.
That He promises us.
That He carries us…

In our heartache, in our celebration, in our laying down and rising up

Forever and always.
We are His.

Be strong and courageous. Fear not; do not be dismayed.
1 Chronicles 22

Salt

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DSCN0771

seaglass: tossed and turned and new again

He took me to the ocean last night.

Not because he wanted to.

But because I wanted to.

He is giving and sure and gracious like that.

He knows my need and gives up his time and makes things happen even when I do not give him thanks for it all.

I know Someone else like that.

I told my love I needed to smell the salt and breathe in the dripping air and watch the water retreat,

Because that is what I wanted to do:::

Retreat like that. To leave for a bit and roll back in with the moon and tide, washed and refreshed and ready to take the world on again.

I told him that I needed to hold his hand and stammer through the tidal mud and lift  the ‘weed and find some treasure. Something pretty and rounded on the edges.

Something with a story to tell.

Something once-birthed jagged and cracked and broken- all- up.

Something tossed and turned and flailing on the waves.

Something trusting the ride, because it knows the end.

Something sanded and worn-down and full of grit-scoured wrinkling.

Something like that.

Something that ends up re-fined and re-curved and re-shaped and re-polished.

Lost and found again.

Washed free from the bottom and catapulted high to shine in the sun.

A glistening gem buried beneath the ‘weeds and rocks and water.

Something-fractured-separated… turned something-brand-new.

He bought me a milkshake with a cherry on top and we walked along the pebbled shore.

He laughed and looked his for-me-only grin while he found mussels and pieces of glass and metal and rest.

He joked and talked and I listened and breathed in the salt air and him and the warmth of his hand.

And found rest right there.

With him.

With Him.

I felt pretty and found and picked up and brushed off anew again.

Right there in my muck on a rocky beach near the sea.

Breathing in salt.

So I can be.

Oh, I pray to be:

Salt.

“You are the salt of the earth… In the same way, let your light shine before others…” Matthew 5:16

Home

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bgceremonyA little poem on thoughts of establishing a home: during my matron of honor toast at my sister’s wedding. (This poem, of course, followed our rendition of the Princess Bride’s “Ma-widge” speech.

Home: builds love, strong on Him: for His glory.

Home: exhales joy: for family.

Home: bears rest: for refreshment.

Home: inhales prayer: for peace.

Home: sparkles laughter: for happiness.

Home: swells patience: for growing thankfulness.

Home: spills gratitude: for one another.

Home: builds love, firm on the Word: for His glory.

Joy is Arriving

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mdaypics 045I do not expect it the way it has been coming.

After chasing it like a lone panting dog, frantic, ears pinned back, racing tired, drooling after the prize, through wood and thicket and the pursuit of it.

Bare and beat with the world and all its promises of it.

But it does arrive, and not because of me.

Sometimes in spurts, on a quiet day, a sprinkler with drops that you run under and run away from again, giggling.

Sometimes in a wash of a wave, tidal and immense, where it rips you off your feet and lands you on your stomach, sprawling and catching your breath, with your bathing suit filled with sand and you sigh with glee and gratitude.

Sometimes in a stream, steady and glistening in the sun, ripples running afresh and new and constant and bright and you glide through, smiling.

Sometimes here and there like stray drop of rain that catches you on the forehead and you look up and around from whence it came and then you stay aware looking for more….

Sometimes it hides itself in a drought

dry and empty

and you must, you must: search it out, shovel it up, bring it to light to quench you.

But it always, always arrives.

He promises you that.

When you seek Him who gives it freely.

Even when the digging is deep, He promises you-

His joy.

You are His.

Joy.

These things I have spoken to you, that My joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full.

~John 15:11

In a Broken World

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In a broken world, things are broken.leaves 015

People.

Are broken.

We ::

:: are broken.

Oh, but friends, we are forgiven!

We are called to this. To be the light scattered and true ::

:: amidst the breaking, the shattering,

the scattering of hearts::::

YOU.

(With HIM.)

HIM.

(with YOU.)

This charge we have: to GLORIFY our KING.

This gift we have:

to say HIS name to another in LOVE so they may know Him::

JOY!

Oh, friends, we know them:

We know us:

They lose strength when they think they have none,

They slip away quietly while they think no one is loving them,

They grip tightly only so long when they feel uncared for,

They get sick and deteriorate without support,

They let go when they feel weak,

They suffer without explanation when there is no understanding,

They become confused and muddled walking on wide roads with too many choices,

They wonder without direction outside of the truth,

They wander without guidance with nothing to lead,

They medicate the bruises with useless bandages,

They search in places incapable of helping,

They rebel in pain masked,

They spill over in excess,

They fill with things that don’t fill,

They breathe tiny breaths that don’t believe,

They miss the simplicity in favor of the too- complicated,

They portray the calm, but outside the volcano,

They yearn for something more and know not what it may be,

They sit:: slumped

just a little.

They walk:: bent

just a bit.

They speak:: joyless

just always.

They just::

Break.

Bit by bit.

In this broken, breaking world.

Heavy. With sin.

Laden. With burden.

Bound. With unforgiveness.

Kept. With hopelessness.

Praying, with you, my friends, that we shine among others with the hope that we have in Him.

Look well at my handpicked servant; I love him so much, take such delight in him. I’ve placed my Spirit on him; he’ll decree justice to the nations. But he won’t yell, won’t raise his voice; there’ll be no commotion in the streets. He won’t walk over anyone’s feelings, won’t push you into a corner. Before you know it, his justice will triumph; the mere sound of his name will signal hope, even among far-off unbelievers.
Matthew 12 MSG

Shine on.