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…
                                                                                                             

Bear Hunting with Jesus.

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bear bait 011For those of you who don’t know, I’ve been enjoying some time in the woods lately “hunting” bear.  So far, I’ve only seen a female with 2 cubs who were delightful to watch. I loved it. As I was walking into the treestand one day, enjoying the day and being alone and talking to God, I suddenly became nervous, in the woods by myself… which doesn’t usually happen to me.  I usually love my alone time traipsing through the woods in the solitude.  This writing came from that afternoon. … which also happened to be the evening I got to hang out with the Mama Bear and her babies…. which was a wonderful night I won’t soon forget!
I am a bear hunter.
That’s what my love calls me  (~smile)
When he gifts my new gun
One I dreamed about from the pages of Cabela’s and the aisles of Kittery Trading Post
And put together in my mind
That he sought after for me at gunshops and with phone calls,
and worked to buy for me,
While I was unaware
and
Surprised me
With his knowing, loving grin::
And I received it as a lady who was gifted diamonds :::   (~smile, again)
I am a bear hunter.
when I’m dressed in my camo, pink on the very edges of the pockets,
my .308 Ruger rifle, stainless scope
and a little bravery
slung over my shoulder
walking into the woods.
Woods.
Where I yearn to be
bear hunter or not::
to refresh my soul and breathe in moss and trees and trail
and Him
                                                                Be not wise in your own eyes…It will be healing to your flesh and refreshment to your bones. Proverbs 3
I step from the field, open and bright, golden with sun and straw
into the forest, focused and keen, alone in my thoughts and quiet
close to the leaves unfurled and settled into the twilight of a late summer-fleeting afternoon
adjusting my eyes
surveying my land
following my path
welcoming my stillness
Being.
Expectant of the time ::
Excited for a glimpse ::
of perhaps
bear or owl or coyote
wandering through this small piece of His glory spilled so green in front of me.
To ponder and seek.
Not so much the seeking of the animal I hunt,
That would be a grateful gift,
But the seeking of
Him,
When my soul is laid bare in the peace of this place ::
my little corner of the trees,
Where joy comes,
Where I am nourished in His presence in the middle
of His natural cathedral
                                                                   He makes me lie down in green pastures…He leads me beside still waters…
                                                                   He restores my soul… He leads me in paths of righteousness… Psalm 23
and where I am refreshed in the midst
of
My life::::
the birds sweet song and the mud that sticks to my boots :: shaking it off
unencumbered
here in the woods::
where He always speaks to me gently
where I am not distracted by time and lists
where He seeks ::
me.
Oh, the gift of that.
He seeks me.                                                                         …………..Remembering that…..
When the peace fills and the joy erupts and all is pointed at Him ::
Here
In the woods::
And
I am on my merry way, over the hummocks and through the hollows to my little spot in the tree::
to hang out with my God
                                                                                         (and wait for my bear…)
                                             :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Unbeknownst…
out of the quiet thicket,
at first glance unnoticed,
padding along too close to me,
the animal
                          …it comes prowling,
and I shudder
a little
and my eyes skip around to the darkness beneath a bush or the flutter unseen above me
                              Be sober-minded;  be watchful. Your  adversary the devil  prowls around  like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.
                                                              1 Peter 5:8
And my guard is down::
When that anxious moment sometimes comes ripping through the birdsong, sticking like the mud to the bottom of my soul………..
So often it can happen when I am alone and feeling purposeful in Him,
it comes to intrude and knock me unsteady…
In the peace that reigns when I am working in His will,
An animal fierce tries to tail me
spitting fire and throwing me off my narrow path,
And I feel nervous,
Walking through the deep, silent woods towards the high place where I can finally rest::
In Him…
and my steps become more timid ::
…………. and I didn’t even know
and my thoughts are more distracted ::
……………….. and I didn’t even notice.
And robbed from my joy in Him, I quiver and falter, just
a little
until I realize
Until I remember
WHO I AM::
because
of
I AM.
And I remember this:
Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil…. In all circumstances take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming darts of the evil one; 17 and take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God, 18 praying at all times in the Spirit… Ephesians 6
And I think about who I am actually walking with::
I am walking with Jesus.
And I say it out loud and stir up the deafening silence:
“I belong to Jesus!”
Unafraid. Bold.
I say to the enemy, who is unwelcome here in this peaceful place:
“Depart from me, you schemer with your arrows of doubt and uncertainty and lies and folly and fear.”
I am walking on this path with HIM. 
My Father.
My Physician.
My LORD.
“In His holy name, I command you to flee.”
And I stomp down my trail with my boots crushing that prowler’s desire for my demise.  I raise my shield of faith and weapon of the Word of God,
that must stay on my lips…
for that is the only way…
And I’m not walking down that trail in the deep woods with an animal of destruction at my back.
I am walking through that soft, mossy, green, growing path with my Friend and Protector, Jesus Christ.
And the birds:: 
start singing again
And the Lord speaks, gently, as only He can:
“You are my child, I am your Father. I will never leave you nor forsake you. My Spirit is always close to you. Quiet yourself. Still yourself.
I am here. I am near you. I am the God of this creation. Walk on.  Walk on with me. I am always protecting you. I am always loving you.
I AM.”
And the sunlight::
pours through the trees
and falls on my path ::
The narrow, blessed one that leads straight to Him.
He will deliver you from the snare of the fowler… He will cover you with His pinions, and under His wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness is a shield and buckler… you will not fear… the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in darkness… When he calls to ME, I will answer him… I will rescue him….
Psalm 91
My friend in Christ, Karriem said, as I heard him preach from the book of Acts on a beautiful Sunday in June:
“You WANT the enemy to know your name… cuz when he knows your name, he knows who he’s messin’ with… you know… that needs to build you up… if the enemy is testing you… he needs to know you come with the power of Jesus Christ… [and you say]  “In the name of Jesus, I know who my Father is…”
Friends::
Oh, I, we…
We are His……  (~smile)
Praying for you, today, that you find yourself walking with Him down the path that He has set for you before time began,
that you believe who you are in Him,
that you don’t believe the lies that can snare us in this world,
that you REST in the shadow of His wings….for He, and He alone, will make your path straight.
What joy in that!
You make known to me the path of life;
In Your presence there is fullness of JOY.
Psalm 16:11
Love, Brooke.

My son, the Warrior

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july12 081Nathanael climbs up on the couch, grabbing his blanket and asks me to sit down, Mama.
I look at him, big brown beautiful eyes like his daddy, hair sticking this way and that, amiss and crazy, just like we all like it and giggle about::: because that hair is sooo him.
Our little bull in the china closet, hugging fiercely, dog-chasing, grumble-growling, mischievous-toy-hiding, squinty-happy-eyes-at-saying-grace, sing-me-twinkle-twinkle, sweet-toothed, cuddles-with-metal-trucks-and-baseball-bats-when-he-goes-to-bed little boy who we pray each night will grow
Courageous
Faithful
Brave
Mighty
Protected
::: for his wife, his children, his great-greats that will follow in the trail he is starting to blaze with his Tonka excavators and singing dump trucks moving all kinds of boulders:
All these things:::
we pray:
for his
GOD.
And he stomps around in his diaper falling-off-yanking-it-up:::: and his sword-weilding and cat running away, curls bouncing, yelling his warrior chant of “Ho-Hoooooooo!”
And right now he asks me come sit down Mama, pouting, perfect little grin, tapping the couch, right here, Mama
And I stare at him, back at the dishes, the toys underfoot, back at him, and I say just a minute and I choose the laundry instead…
And He stops me half-way down the hall and He says
Go back there with him.
Go back there with him.
And I go.
And he nestles into my sweater without saying anything, and he closes those dark brown eyes and falls deep into my breathing and I look at him and I do not look back
at the laundry
at the sweeping
at the end of that book I am reading
at the piece of play-doh stuck to the floor
at the list only half-crossed off on the counter:::
Because I must not.
I dream at my little boy-man
growing
right there, while he lays quietly, so content in the crook of my arm,
growing
and I know this day will never come ’round again
and it is not about being sappy and syrupy and oh-they-grow-so-fast-love-them-they-will-be-gone-so-soon.
No.
This is about my
SON,
who I have been given to raise in the Lord,
Trusting Him Who gives with grace and love,
This little man of God who is my gift from my Father
who He has SHARED with me… me.
to
Love
Nurture
Discipline
Cuddle
Feed
Clothe
Grow
Teach
and that pile of clothes must wait.
and that phone call must go unanswered.
and that computer must stay off.
I must be strong in He who gave me this task and be choosy and wise and pray for endurance…
because there is….
…. that adversarial voice telling me to work and be busy and do it all and do it now and be distracted and miss-out-on-what’s-important and flail with anxiety and breath shallow breath and finish up and do that chore and fester with exhaustion and be frustrated with demands and never be still and do not listen to Him and instead keep in step with the world because that’s where it’s at and make that money and fill up your head with junk and eat more and… and…
NO.
This.
This is my high, high calling.
This little warrior-boy of ours with the curly brown hair.
This little warrior-boy of ours who we pray to raise to be a warrior for Jesus, swinging his sword.
For Truth.
For Love.
For his God.
I pray to be the mommy he needs me to be.
I pray to be the mommy He needs me to be.
“O God from my youth you have taught me, and I still proclaim your wondrous deeds. So even to old age and gray hairs O God, do not forsake me, until I proclaim your might to another generation, your power to all those to come…” Psalm 71

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