Driving away

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If you pour yourself out for the hungry and satisfy the desire of the afflicted, then shall your light rise in the darkness and your gloom be as the noonday. And the Lord will guide you continually and satisfy your desire in scorched places and make your bones strong: and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters do not fail.  +Isaiah 58

She boasts proud this one-cat-too-many home and forever loves her husband.

She smooths red on her lips next to her fiery hair just for a little jaunt to the food market for just the right feline Fancy Feast.

She tidies her collared delicately- pleated blouse next to her polyester pleated pants falling on patent ballet flats and refuses my arm down the creaking stairs.

She cherishes the flowers and the boy who mows her lawn haphazardly and invites me to the couch to chat and searches for her keys in clutter.

She smiles and gives thanks heavenward for her health while she straightens her ump-teen orange pill bottles carefully on a filled rolling- tray and says God is good to me, Brooke. He is so good to me.

She says thank-you to me too much and asks me what she owes me for gas and fumbles with these three dollars and I say this is my pleasure and she opens the car window yet even more and says she feels the wind in her hair and throws her aging hand outside to taste the joy of the day.

She grins in some memory, I think, and then asks sweetly if I am getting too much air.

No, no, it’s fine, I like it, I think I’m just beginning to breathe, really. {smile}

She is gracious and sweet and has this story she’s lived and she shares some with me and my eyes are watering and I am listening to her…

And she overtakes me.

She overtakes me.

With her courage and perseverance.

I have known her for seven years… and I have never known her.

And we drove on this sunny day to a place neither of us really wanted to have to go.

********************************************************************************************************************

I had wakened that morning with a plan in my mind. All set before me, next to the coffee pot set to brew at exactly the right time, all lists diagrammed and noted and cited with a back up plan flagged with post-its marked with a sharpie. You know that kind of day?

And God said no. Just like that. And this is how it happened in this span of almost a minute:

Early in the morning after reading an email discussing a need, before I started anything on my list. He said no. That, your plan, is not what I have for you today. I have this instead.

It is almost like I could have ignored him, you know? Do you know how close I was to thinking I could? To disobey? I said, no, this is not for me, not today. And He said yes it is. And I tried not to call her and say yes I can. Yes, I will take you.

I tried to say no. To Him.

Did you read what I said? I tried to say no to Him. The reigning God of the universe.

Who am i?

Who AM I? He says.

And I called her. I said yes, of course I will. How are you this morning? I will come to you soon. See you soon.

I dress and say I can’t do this without You and He says You are Mine and I am weak and strong all at the same time. And I get in the car and drive to her and smile a hello. And she smiles grateful and I am humbled. In her presence. I am humbled in His presence in her.

***************************************************************************************************************************************

I see her each week with a polite hello and she tells me my children are nice and I tell her I like her brooch, which is true, and she says thank you God is good to me, Brooke and then I move on to the next person to say hello. Every week like that. In and out the door like that, when I’m not so invested. Sad truth.

That’s what I do EVERY week. I smooth my hair and glide on my gloss and step out in a skirt and shove the family into the car and spill my coffee and forget my bible and say hello to lots of people like that. EVERY week.

Let me tell you this: I am sick over it.

This woman I have been cordial to, week after week, month after month, avoided at times because I don’t have anything to say, this woman who loves Jesus and breathes out thanksgiving and finds joy, joy, in the darkest times,

this woman who sings her hymns and knows her God and carries her purse in the crook of her arm and asks for prayer and prays for others and adores chocolate ice cream,

but eats vanilla because her husband loves it and they can only afford one flavor at a time. So she loves vanilla now…. because she loves him.

And, The Lord… He used this lady I have sometimes essentially walked by, to teach me a lesson in His love.

In my brokenness and depravity, He let me see her like He does. Grace-gift.

And I am convicted and humbled and forever grateful.

And so we drove down the road and ended up there nervous and lagging and a bit scared because I don’t like places like this. I’ve seen too much when a body deteriorates and is sick and wasting away. Scared. That was me.

But not her.

She ended up there eager and thankful and smiling and combing her hair for him and waiting for me while I locked the car and admiring the flowers and knowing he’s not eating and hoping for the best and thanking God for this time and I am looking at her while her husband fades in this hospital bed and she orders him ice cream and I wait outside the door…

… just for a moment, so that I know she finds her seat, but instead she finds his hand and I hear him without seeing him and he has this joy in his feeble voice and her head is turned but I hear the smiling in her words and I think to wait until I know she’s settled, but they are talking about cats and the love they share and this C word  that doesn’t compare to the Love … and I go…

And I gently tell her when it’s time to leave and I say you haven’t eaten and she’s tired and I want to love her well, because He says so and because He is in me and I really do want to love her well,

And we are there to dive into our French fries because that is her favorite and mine are at my lips…. and this thing happens::::::: she breaks into praise after hours next to his bed and this sickness looming and her future unknown::::: she starts praying in thanksgiving…

and I forget to say thanks to Him?!?!

I forgot to say thanks. Not only did I forget, it didn’t cross. my. mind. I have food and my family is healthy and I am blessed beyond measure in a million little and big ways and this beautiful child of God is sitting next to me, hungry for food and hungry for her husband and she breaks out in prayer and thanksgiving for all of her blessings…

and I break inside myself and look at her. Amazed. She knows this God she claims. In the midst of it all, she is praising Him for His goodness to her.

::::::::::: No words for that.

I drive her to her door and hug her and say see you soon and she says she needs a little nap and I pray for her rest and she thanks me again.

I say I am the one who has been blessed today. I thank you, from the bottom of my heart for spending time with me today.

And I drive slow, with the windows all the way down and my aging hand out in the wind

…. and I am filled.

In the deepest part of myself, I was filled. Satiated and brimming with the gift of living in the Gospel and letting it change me. Change me for Him through this beautiful woman and her failing husband. And I want to do more.

That is what I want. I want Him to drive me away from comfort and love others the way He does. In all of my imperfection and pride, He let me be His hands and feet.

How can I thank Him for that enough?

Has the Lord as great delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices, as in obeying the voice of the Lord? Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice, and to listen than the fat of rams. +1 Samuel 15:22

 

 

I said: Breathe.

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Thus says God, the Lord, who created the heavens and stretched them out, who spread out the earth and what comes from it, who gives breath to the people on it and spirit to those who walk in it: “I am the Lord; I have called you in righteousness; I will take you by the hand and keep you…”  Isaiah 42 (emphasis mine)

DSCN3410

I breathe slow and snagged.

::::::::::::::::::Sometimes.

Because I am caught up.

and netted- fast

and stuck- constrained.

Snared somehow.

::::::::::::::::Sometimes.

By duty and schedule and guilt and should-be’s and too many yes’s and not enough no’s and not waking with His name on my lips and this to do and that to accomplish and good deeds and this flesh and that mop and this dust and fun and summer and planning this and finding the keys and technology and calendar and my sin and the pull of the world and the …… blah. blah. blah.

I realized this two days ago

in the car

that I wasn’t breathing.

Not filling.

Not satiating.

Not complete.

Not brimming to overflowing.

… You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows… +Psalm 23

More shallow and wanting.

I looked at myself in the rearview and glimpsed my little reminder that days are passing. That silver strand at my temple. Tempted to pull it out.

::::::::::::::Shallow, too. In a different sense.

Some weeks, they slip by unseen and I forget to breathe them in.

… So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom… +Psalm 90

It is easy to forget to breathe.

I said to myself with “Give God the Glory Glory” pouring out of the speakers and out of my backseat buckled-in smiles:::: “Give God the glory, glory….”

I said: breathe.

Like I had to remind myself. Who reminds themselves to breathe????

I did. And I even tried to take a deep breath and my too-tight, white-knuckled chest wouldn’t give me up.

I couldn’t fill myself deep and full and saturated and content.

I couldn’t do it.

So my breath came shorter and held out longer.

                            :::::::::::::::::::::::Without air.

It occurs to me amidst the hymns swirling and little ones counting buttercups along the road and my grocery list flying off the seat in the rolled down windows::::

:::::: This is a gift.

This whole 35 seconds of depthless breathing and that gray hair and this moment right now when I have to depend on Someone else for one of the most natural, rote, practiced, life-giving, filling up and out-flowing actions we do all 86,400 seconds of our day.

And that I cannot do it on my own. Praise God.

No, I cannot even breathe on.my.own.

Lord, Creator of my very breath: Can You help me breathe?

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::Because I cannot count on myself for even that.

(thank You.)

And that realization:::

That I cannot trust myself, but instead I can trust the mighty and sovereign God of the universe for the tiniest invisible thing is a beautiful blessing.

and I can count on Him right now.

That He commands even my evanescent breath to pour forth from these lungs that He created::: even at this very moment…

that is a grace-saturated gift from Him, to me.

O Lord of hosts, blessed is the one who trusts in You! +Psalm 84

I can trust Him.

I can trust. Him.

If in the very small and sightless, then also in the very big.

Not only because His Word tells me so, but because He shows me so.

He goes before me.

He helps me breathe.

When I forget how, He shows me again. and again. and again.

::::::::::::::::::::::::: give God the glory, glory…..

He breathed life into me.

How can I ever forget that?

…then the Lord God formed the man of dust from the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life and the man became a living creature… +Genesis 2:7

These photos.

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Photos lately.

So many of them.

Things keep surprising me and I keep the camera close.

The sky with the passing cloud. The cloud heavy with the rain. The rain dripping on the leaf. The leaf attached to the stem. The stem holding the flower. The flower grabbed by the boy. The boy chasing his sister. His sister smiling at the father. And the father looking at the wife. And the wife wanting to inhale all the thanks and exhale the joy.Deep.Wide.and lovely.

::::::::::::::: even on the hard days. yes.

And all of these pictures seem silly. Like go do something else more worth- it. Like go wash a dish. Like go read a book. Like go hang a towel. Like go fold a towel.

What have I been doing? Taking a picture of that towel instead.

And then thanking God for it.

:::::::::::::::::::Yes, even for the towel.

How He picked the dots silver on the moth wing and how He breathed breeze on the dawn grass glittered swaying with dew and how He furled the fern on the stream running sweet ripples and how He placed each curly hair on his little head so they drip on his brow just right and how He created her smile making her lashes dance and how He gave me

this husband:::

The husband who meets my am-I-taking-too-many-pictures-here look and steals away my camera while I cook

::::::and picks me a rose just bloomed today because I love the vintage smell I cannot explain: just feels like home:

:and he kisses my cheek and unveils the camera from his shirt::::

:::: a picture-kiss of this rosebud:::

:: because he knows I wonder:::

::::if I take too much time with the joy-thanks magnified?

::: thanks kept fresh by the shutter closing still on the moment.

And he showed me his photo.

his gift to me tonight.

::::::::::::: His gift to me…………..

To settle me. Pete’s I-like-that-you-like-this-picture-thing-I-think-it’s-pretty-great- offering of love to me.

Because among our laughter at a song off-key and our chasing around with the hose and the planting of the pretty flowers not all moments are perfect. Like any day. And we had a sharp glance when we misunderstood and we had a word when we were sweating in the sun with rakes and wheelbarrows and kids buzzing and bugs buzzing and needing a fresh drink of water.

                      ::::::::::::::::::::of living water.

That Living Water that spilled over the soil and breathed life into the plants and the animals and streams and clouds, the roses, too::::

All exhaling praise to He who swept sedges across the marshes, He who filled glens with violets and valleys with rivers, He who breathed life into mountains groan-rising out of earth, He who fanned wind across the desert:::::

He who gifted this all-to-His-glory Earth to us to enjoy and savor and taste and see and breathe

:::::::::::::::::::::::: thankful praise out in all things.

And when I take these pictures::::

When I see His love amplified deep in the raindrop dripping praise to Him,

I cannot help but take another.

:::: and when a day gets long and a cloud comes dark,

I can see the love He intends for us when I look through this lense::: this lense of thanksgiving.

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Creation was made for this! Drench the plowed fields, soak the dirt clods With rainfall as harrow and rake bring her to blossom and fruit. Snow-crown the peaks with splendor, scatter rose petals down your paths, All through the wild meadows, rose petals. Set the hills to dancing, Dress the canyon walls with live sheep, a drape of flax across the valleys. Let them shout, and shout, and shout! Oh, oh, let them sing!

Psalm 65 MSG (biblegateway)

It’s all good.

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At the end of forty days, Noah opened the window of the ark he had made… +Genesis 8

Washing the windows.

So I can see better.

Filthy.

                     they can get.

Grimy.

Cobwebby.

                               and sticky.

That film that lingers after a long Winter.

Stuck in the corners and glued to the pockets and edges.

Gets a little elusive sometimes… trying to get it all cleaned up glistening.

Getting the gunk out of the recesses.

Sometimes the looking out is hard.

Walking around, peering, like there’s got to be a clean spot to see straight through to the beauty out there.

Somewhere.

That’s what it’s like sometimes from where I am on this side of the glass, anyway.

Sometimes the view gets hard to see through the dirt I’ve got cloudy on my pane.

                                         :::::::::: my pain.

There are daffodils out there beyond it all.

The lilac that hasn’t bloomed yet?

It’s going to.

::::::: And the bleeding heart.

                   :::::::::::::::::: Growing.

The grass is growing and the leaves are spinning on the trees.

The morning was misty, but the sun broke through just in time.

Time to clean the windows

                                              :::: wash away the soot…

and squeak them sparkling clear.

                   :::: after all, it’s springing time.

Sometimes it just seems easier to stay on the inside, where it’s comfortable and familiar.

                                               :::::: but not good for me.

                  ::::::::::: but all will end up for my good.

                                                                  ::::oh, the rest in that.

But don’t those window- glasses get dirty, like you can’t take throwing up the sash one more time…

Because it’s hard and life is hard and choices are hard and the past: that’s just hard sometimes.

Things get a little dimmer with the dust.

and a little blurry with the dirt that’s stuck-fast and hard to wipe away.

And right before the window-wiping dries clear and gleaming, there’s that moment of the most fogging up.

When the cleansing-  soap is sprayed and for a second you can’t see out at all.

Sometimes the toughest.

And there is no choice.

Wash clean.

The windows.

Washed clean.

                                  :::::::::::::: glowing in the sun….

                                                                                     …. in the Son….

And the dirt is for my good.

And the dig-down-deep faith is for my good.

And the waiting for the windows to clear up is for my good.

And the patience is for my good.

And the timing is for my good.

And the cleaning?

Oh, for my good.

And the peering out to what is waiting for me?

heavenly.

And what is it all for?

Every-thing?

For

His glory.

Washed radiant.

Time to throw open the windows and breathe in the freshest air.

I will give thanks to Your name, O Lord, for it is good. +Psalm 54

 

 

 

 

 

Frantic.

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july12 081I have set the Lord always before me; because He is at my right hand, I shall not be shaken. +Psalm 16

Do you ever think He feels frantic about us?

Like in the way that I, hanging clothes,

Nathanael Fisher up the hill with his fishing pole casting on the lawn,

The dog running back and forth between us,

catchy Sunday School tunes in the morning air because Nathanael likes

::::::God is so good, God is so good, God is so good, He’s so good to me. He cares for me, He cares for me…

Picking up the basket and telling Him how beautiful this day is::::

no bugs to swat::: yet,

birds tweeting and flittering,

warm Spring all around us,

Gathering the pins and thinking about what to do next and

hoping it was something to keep me outside soaking in the sun and telling Him again how beautiful the sky blue is and I cannot wait to plant purple flowers and I hope I don’t see any ticks and I think I should make something with blueberries for dessert tonight and there is not even a wind and so that keeps the day so warm and should I just leave the basket down by the clothesline instead and maybe I will rake over there, so that…

:::::::::::::::::::::: STOPPPPPP…..

Where’s his singing and talking to himself?

Why isn’t he yelling to me to fix the bobber on his fishing line?

I was just talking to him.

just a second ago.

Where is he?

NATHANAEL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Primal screaming from my gut.

Eight million more things on a hot, one-track pulse through my mind and none of them have to do with blueberries and flowers and clothespins……

Frantic like that.

Racing.feet.

Racing.heart.

Racing.mind.

Where is he??????????

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: I right here, Mama.

Why didn’t you answer me?

Where did you go?

I couldn’t hear you singing.

I couldn’t see you over there.

I love you. Come here.

now.please.

And he arose and came to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. +Luke 15

I love you…….

Frantic where are you.

Frantic pulling you close.

Frantic let me look at your face.

Frantic answer me when I call you.

Frantic you are mine and I love you.

When my mind is reeling.

When I settle deep in the muddy waters of self.

::::self.

:::::::::::::::::::::self.

When I cast my thoughts somewhere far enough away to teeter on the rocky bank just long enough to catch myself or fall right into the mucky murk that gets sticky on the way out…

When we are absent like that?

Does He say that to us?

Where are you?

I was just talking to you.

I can’t see you.

You are mine, but I can’t find you right now.

But is He father-frantic, like that?

And they heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day… “Where are you?”  +Genesis 3

Or does He always know?

Right where we are.

For the Lord sees not as man sees… +1Samuel 16

Or is He always with us?

Right where we are.

And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age. +Matthew 28

Or is He never frantic, but full of love- passion?

For us? To meander back?

Even if just a moment has lapsed?

To run back?

Even if just a moment has lapsed?

… son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours… +Luke 15

Waiting for us, each day, each moment, each second, so that WE are

ourselves…

never frantic?

What is His frantic?

passion.

His calling us?

love.

His drawing us in?

peace.

You keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is set on You… +Isaiah 26

He is always, always right where we are.

Frantically searches for us?

He passionately waits for us.

But

our frantic seeking Him–

when the water gets too deep and we are casting our line lonely into this world-sea of unknown?                                             ::::: faith:::::

Answered by Him.

Peace to you! … Why are you troubled, and why do doubts arise in your hearts? See My hands and My feet, that it is I Myself. Touch Me and see… +Luke 24

still. singing.

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I will sing to the Lord, for he has triumphed gloriously… the Lord is my strength and my song, and he has become my salvation… Exodus 15

He feels farther away today.

Barely there.

Like I think I hear music on the radio, but it must be turned so low, that I think there’s a song there, but I only kind-of hear it when there’s no whirr of a car passing, or the window’s up and not down or I’m not hitting bumps and driving through potholes or no one is talking or the heater isn’t blaring on high….

and I feel off-key.

There’s a symphony of praise and prayer and promise somewhere rising and I can’t seem to hear it or jump in and praise along…

today.

I cannot explain why the Song is barely there.

Not true. I probably can. I just am too tired and distracted to right now.

I am begging to join the orchestra of rejoicing and I cannot.

It is one of those days and was one of those nights.

The tired, unsure, this- day- is- a- day- He- has- called- me- to- live- by- faith- and- keep- moving- in- Him kind of days.

One of those My- answers- come- in- My- timing- and- you- need- just- wait- on- Me kind of days.

Wait on Me. My timing is perfect…

Beads on my forehead, wringing my hands, restless kind of day.

Alone and a bit parched of beauty.

Alone and a bit withered of joy.

It is like a

Musical Chairs kind of day.

’round, ’round, ’round again…

and the waiting on Him comes with the wondering on Him… and then I wander around and around a bit…

Like the melody is playing and I am circling and circling

and I am not sure whether I should dance my way around

or

take it slow and concentrated and steady and measured and safe

and anticipate the music stopping

and could I,

can I just…

……let someone else take the seat and I will step away for a bit?

Like a not so party girl sit-with-my-punch-and-cookie-awhile wallflower?

That would be easy to do.

or could I, can I…

… claim the chair I think may just be mine…

and take it to myself… for Him…

would that be ok, too?

Has He already promised me things I have not truly received?

What if I decide to sing along even if I am a little off-key today?

If I’m a little out of tune and don’t have the song altogether figured out?

What if I walk in all He has?

What if I run with all that He has?

What if I just go with His flow and rest in His promises that sing like songs from His Word?

I could get knocked down and tripped up and stub my toe on something really hard

and really heavy

and cry a little bit.

or a lot.

I could fall down:::

Flat.

Man, I don’t want to be flat.

The falling down.

or the just being

flat.

even.

comfortable.

invariable.

So here I go seeking my chair… music playing… round and round…

the anticipation… the anxious of…

The waiting.

The circling.

The un-nerving excitement…

The slowing down, the speeding up…

The joy-full song playing…

My joy-full heart…

Even when it wants to slow down and step away from the music…

and out of the circle… running ’round ’round…

He sings close to me::::

Still.

He sings deep to me::::

Still.

He sings:::

barely there today but barely is enough for me to know that I am His and this is where He is:::

never barely anywhere but everywhere

forever

And He will sing my song:::: His song:::: when I cannot

And He has found my chair

before time began…

and He sees me now ’round and ’round and ’round I go ::: my own strength::: and

He says

You are in your best party dress and this song is Mine and I have given it to you to sing for Me…

Still.

be.

still.

I

am

still

with

you.                                                                 ::::: singing.

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

The barrens

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Yes, I have been barren.
In many senses of that word.
                depleted…parched…unbearing…fallow…wasted and….empty.
Have we all somehow, somewhere, endured some reaching, grasping, please-let-it-stop-God-just-let-me-see-You barren moment of time?
Barren.
                                                                                        (He gives the barren woman a home… Ps113)
of time.
of hope.
of children.
of salvation.
of happiness.
                         of Joy.
of peace.
of safety.
of meaning.
                        of Faith.
of guidance.
of direction.
of calling.
of rest.
of believing.
……………………………….. of Love?
                                                 (The Lord is gracious and merciful… abounding in steadfast love…. Ps145)
Barren moments that stole my fragile breath, my living air.
leaving,
heaving for absent light.
swirling.
Close,
Creeping threads of night that shear a heart and soul stretched thin and wide and unveiled.
naked to every worldly, fleshly thing that can steal life and
whittle away
a minute
a day
a week
…a life.
Barren.
…. the things that fill lungs and mind and heart with loss and disappointment and abandonment and betrayal and
::::: everything that the Lord does not and will not author unless He weaves it together for our good and His glory…
                                       (He has sent Me to bind up the brokenhearted… Is 61)
                                 The moments that can take you somewhere you do not want to be:
                                   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When you are nine.
You wanna take a walk down to the park?
Leave your bed.
We just had lunch.
Thanks for our favorite ice cream bon-bons.
I don’t want to watch tennis with you… I think we should pick some peonies.
Thank you for the hug. I love you, too.
      Leave your glass right there. Please. Please?
Raise the shade.
It’s sunny.
Please?
Barren.                                     Yet He saw me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When you are ten.
Door closed.
again.
In a yellow and blue flowered room, surveying a ten year old self in the mirror,
alone, fingers-in-ears singing,
trying not to internalize,
eternalize
the sounds, the shrill, the banging of the family tree being sawed off at the rotting trunk,
bleeding the sap of broken lives.
Barren.                                        Yet He did not abandon me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Same room.
Same mirror.
Different girl.
17.
I know I left that house.
For good.
I just don’t remember it.
That moment.
That day.
Even now.
That moment without a memory.
Barren.                                               Yet He held my hand.
                          ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Walking down the crooked path,
Leaving the Lord behind me… oh, but I knew He was there…
college,
boyfriend… that was not my husband…
21,
bible tucked in my flowered bag cinched up tight on the dusty dorm shelf,
no worship,
bed before marriage,
those idols.
                                      (The Lord preserves the simple; when I was brought low, He saved me… Ps116)
Barren.
                                                       Yet He kept calling to me.
26.
After the first bliss of sheer joy,
On the floor, writhing,
screaming,
with the glimpse of knowing
that my womb would continue its swell without the thrumming of life,
Barren.                                                         Yet He healed me.
                                      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Scalpels and “we’ll take good care of you, I’m so sorry” under glaring white lights.
Blinding.
Medical mumbo-jumbo in stark paper piles of reports that say words “fetal tissue” and “cutterage”
                while I howl the only word “baby” deep inside
until the word rips through my lips
Why……………………….
and l lay lost in my husband’s arms devoided
of the life I loved already.                                                      (My hope is in You… Ps38)
Poking.
Prodding.
Infertile.
Can’t see.
Broken.
This month.
No.
Barren.                                                         Yet He gave us children.
                                    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
33 and 8 years married.
Yoked unevenly, bound to him, he to me
with all of our family suitcases,
baggage stuffed full,
busting open with nowhere to hide the unbelief,
the ill-preparedness,
the blackness,
the pushing away of the Truth,
in some secret corner, out of the way,
where we won’t look,
where we won’t see what is happening when we only trust ourselves…
binding us,
spilling out into our marriage bed,
with Temptation and Distrust and Hurt and Accusation and Guilt…
all of them.
nestled comfortably between us.
sleeping contentedly.
(Your adversary… prowls like a roaring lion… resist… firm in your faith… 1Pet5)
The gut-wrenching wailing of sin
unmasked
when I say it is all over
when he says it is all over
and I leave him there in our mess and go back
600 miles away
running to a place I cannot remember anyway.
Barren.                                                           Yet He redeemed my marriage.
                                         ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When those early morning calls come from your family in a span of only one year
and you start to dread the ring before 6am
and you look at one another searching each other’s eyes without searching for the phone
and the voice says:
:he drowned last night; your brother was there,too; his lungs are full of water too and he can’t talk to you right now;
:he has cancer, there’s a tumor, they are running more tests; I’ll call when I have more to tell you;
:there was an accident and they couldn’t do anything; he was just running to the store and the other person ran the light;
:his house just burnt down after he just lost his son, can you come?
broken.for.words.to.feel.anything.
Barren.                                                             Yet He used us for others, as He comforted us.
                                                ============================================
Driving in the early morning, it struck me as I passed many of the Blueberry Barrens on my way…. acres and acres of plants and rocks and hills boasting some of the finest blueberry harvesting in the country.
Barrens?
Barren?
There is nothing barren here.
My car slows to pause on the tallest hill, barrens on one side, barrens on the other.
The fog is rising in shadowy, misty white columns from the earth revealing the lay of the land beneath:
Gorgeous. It overtakes me.
Lord, I need to stop and watch.
Your earth is glorious when it is praising You…
These barrens:
The leaves heavy on the blueberry bushes: they are crimson red in the late Autumn sunrise,
More beautiful to me now then when they are blue with fruit in August…
stretching across miles of rolling soil, made perfect for bountiful crops to spring forth.
The sun pours down on the tiny leaves,
Rain soaks the sandy soil to strengthen the roots.
Shoots emerge bearing clean, white flowers,
clean, washed and white…
there they are after an arduous Winter…
dripping off the branch…
the Branch…
The flowers, nurtured, pollinated, fed,
Surrender themselves to the fruit…
The fruit,
That can only come,
After the Winter,
After the nurture,
After the thirst for the Water,
After
The growing.
If that is what happens in the barrens….
If this is what happens in the barrens…
washed.
white.
clean.
bounteous.
fruit.
beauty.
thirst.
surrender.
growing…
glory…
then…
I… am humbled.
I am nothing…
Nothing but
Blessed
…as I’ve walked the barrens.
But for you, who fear my name, the sun of righteousness shall rise with healing in its wings. You shall go out leaping like calves from the stall.  ~Malachi 4:2
Praying for you, for me, today, that we all bring Him glory with our fruit. 
That we continue to seek His strength and not our own, that we praise Him in every storm, that we ask Him when we don’t understand….
that we know, that we KNOW in the deepest parts of ourselves that He loves us, He does not accuse us, but rescues us and weaves our stories of life together to bring Him glory. That’s what it’s all about… bringing Him glory. Praise God.

hungry

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Then I turned my face to the Lord God, seeking him by  prayer and… with fasting…
Daniel 9:3

that laying out of the mess and asking Him to clean.

Really?

Asking my Lord to help me clean.

Asking the King of kings to sweep out the corners and muck out the stalls.

Beautiful and Wretched.

I weep in the wonder:
How He could come HERE, to us, weak and sin-ridden

and scour our hearts and minds and turn us to Him by His
Grace.

And so I focus on Him, by abstaining from
the meats
the sweetsKingsLanding 010
the wheats

Staying
Crisp on He who gives me life:

The God of the Universe who chooses to live in this body.
Who makes His words known to this heart.
Who blesses this life with babies and husband and home.

Humbled.

Who gently, quietly, succinctly said to me on a Sunday, as I swirled with busy:

Fast for 5 days.

And I, without hesitation, for one of the first times without,
checking the schedule,
asking more questions,
coming up with excuses,

putting off my Father,

without the dawdling,

said OK.
Just like that, because He is the One who has me, beginning to end,
And He wants me to live by Him, to seek Him, and so He spoke…

And I felt eager.
Filled.

Day three of the five He asked of me.

I’m hungry.

(Indulge me for a moment…)
You know how sometimes the fruits and the vegetables need that anchor of pasta and bread and meat.
You know how finishing off a meal with a cookie is completing and satisfying.
You know how of all weeks, your coworkers make your favorites: homemade salsa and pumpkin cookies and lemon bars and put them out in the teacher’s room and say, Brooke! I know you love lemon!
Brooke! That’s the salsa recipe I gave you!
Brooke! Have you tried the pumpkin cookies?

(Oh, the comforts of this life that become normal and consuming.)

I AM HUNGRY.

But, you know, my friends, what for, Praise God:

I am hungry.
For the way He speaks into my life and leads me to Him.
For all that He has for me that day I walk into Glory and see Him….
For the moments when He teaches me to be disciplined and give away this world so that I can hear Him:
Only Him.

And so,
I am feeding myself this week by His Word,
crunching on my fruits and vegetables,
praying to Him instead, when I would normally reach for a sweet snack,

When I crave the bread, the silly slice with the peanut butter for breakfast,

I am choosing to crave more of Him,
And lay abandoned to Him the

Questions
Transitions
Wonderings
Wanderings…

I’m hungry today…
But I’m praying that through my day, I’m hungry for His word and His hand…
… shrouding my thoughts
… protecting my heart
… guiding my decisions

covering me.
Praying that you feel His love, mighty and gentle, on your life today! I pray that you crave Him.

Hope for the Road

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KingsLanding 061After Jesus rose again on Easter day, he met two men walking on the road to Emmaus. He did not reveal Himself immediately to them. Instead, He walked along with them as they discussed the crucifixion and the account of the women who seemed to have found His empty tomb. He took this opportunity to remind them of the scriptures, to remind them of what was promised to them, to remind them of Who He is.

I love this story in Luke 24. It reminds me that even when He is not “visible” to us, He is right there. He promises us that. That is a beautiful thing.

They said to each other, “Did not our hearts burn within us while he talked to us on the road, while he opened to us the scriptures?”  +Luke 24:32 ESV

Third day.

Stone rolled away but they did not see it themselves

Jesus in their midst but they did not see it themselves

Walking the dusted road

weary in heart?

weary in travel?

weary in talk?

dusted on sandals:

and now

with dusty hope:::

like hope was left on a shelf somewhere: hope: a thing worn and tired:

like a Book, perhaps: tattered and known:

dog-eared and ditched:

dog-tired

out of reach and retired there:

on a shelf.

past.

tense.

:::: we had…

Hoped…

They walk.

They talk::

::::::::::::: was a mighty Prophet in word and deed… they said…

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: we had hoped that He was the One… they said…

And on they walked.

Discussing Jesus. With Jesus.

With Jesus.

No, really.

Actually.With.JESUS.

And He opened the scriptures to them and He admonished them and He conversed with them and He loved them and He traveled with them…

and He met them right there where they were.

And He met them right there where they were.

On a road to somewhere.

On a journey to where they were going::: Glory!

He walked with them.

Just like we get to do.

Even when we have left our hope up high, left- weak somewhere

on a shelf.

And they felt Him there, you know.

While they traveled…

“They urged Him strongly”…. +Luke 24 esv

“Stay with us”… they said….

And they broke the bread together and they listened together and they talked together and they walked together and they journeyed together and they returned together…

….together with Jesus.

and their eyes grew wide and they saw Him.

For Who He is…

Alive.

Relevant.

Here.

Today.

With you.

With us.

When hope is depleted and our road is worn and dusty and we have forgotten the hope that is in Him…

He is walking with us.

Even when we do not see Him.

He was born for us.

He died to save us.

He left the tomb to give us life!

“… Jesus Himself drew near and went with them….” +Luke 24:15b esv

Dust off your hope.

He has risen indeed!