He leads me beside still water
The edge of the pond had no movement. The center is motionless. No stirring of the waters. Stillness. Calm. Quiet.
Trees and sky reflecting in unison. Water bearing image from above.
Sheep wander by still water seeing the reflection of their image.
Made in His image.
Water reflecting His image.
An earthly reflection in still water seen dimly giving hope of the eternal image of God.
Rain hitting the tin roof of the porch sang for a little while after I woke up. Washing everything clean. Little did I know at the time, it was washing the morning sky in preparation for the sun to peek over the horizon. In the dark, all I heard was the rhythm on the tin.
Fast-forward two hours.
I turned left and was met by unexpected rays hitting trees. Reminding of the upcoming fall foliage that is always highly anticipated. The sun had not made it up high enough yet to illuminate the ground below. Twinkling wet leaves were radiated.
I turned left again. This time I was high enough to be able to see what the morning rain had washed clean. Cloud streaked skies of crystal blue reminded me. My lens just hasn’t captured anything lately. I had not made myself available to capture any good shots.
To get the really spectacular shots, you must be willing to get in just the right posture at just the right moment. Is the risk worth the reward? Is the time well-spent?
How many shots are missed because my posture or timing is off?
Too many.
And not just pictures.
Am I the only one missing shots? Am I the only one that is not getting into just the right posture at just the right time to see that one glorious view that only comes from putting yourself out there and being willing to go and do what is necessary? Am I even making sense to you? Do you even get it?
There was a post on social media this week of a young lady crying. Her message was convicting about a harvest. You may have seen it. She was overcome with tears. Her heart touched to the point of overflowing from her eyes. And her message? Simply a request to be willing. Willing to go and do what is necessary? Not that the outcome will seem successful according to your standards. Not that the work will be satisfying. Not that you have to know what you are doing. Not that you have to be prepared to do the work. Just that you make yourself available and willing to go and do. And then do it.
Did you see her?
Did you hear her?
Did it impact you?
I don’t know anything about the young lady. But I do know how it feels to miss a shot. I know regret. I know disappointment.
So while today is still today, here is my shot. Jesus loves you. He satisfied the wrath of God by taking your place to make atonement for your sins, if you believe. If you accept the posture of coming before Him in complete sincerity. Raw honesty here! Acknowledge your sin. Confess it. Turn away from it and posture yourself to accept the gift of eternal life.
No scripture posted here today. You look it up. Good place to start is Romans. Go ahead. Read it. Know it. Share it.
And let me know if I can help. Let me know if I can wiggle around a little to get in the right posture to come beside you and maybe together, we can study and learn and share.
I never get tired of telling of that day after two college finals. That boy had already made his mark. His mama carrying him through college classes with professors looking too concerned that a birth might happen in their classroom. She was something of a novelty. But so was he.
I had a hair appointment that day. Plans to get ready for that last few days of being a household of three. Plans to ready myself for the next four weeks of Christmas break between college terms with a new baby. Plans to finish Christmas shopping for that precocious four-year old girl. Little did I know how fast that four-year old girl would grow-up. Literally in 3 hours.
I have always had an internal alarm clock. That day it went off around 6:00 am. (Which is a late morning these days!) I got up with a little discomfort. Got in the shower. Shaved my legs. That pain is a little intense. Let’s wait it out. Put make-up on. That pain is coming closer together. Might need to tell the husband. Dry the hair. Whoa! Need to get that four-year old up. Need to call the sister to meet us at the hospital. It is time.
That sister beats us to the hospital. Takes charge of the four-year old. Sign-in at the emergency room at 7:30 am. We tell the desk contractions are about two to three minutes apart. There is time.
An attendant wearing a back brace pushing a wheel-chair comes to escort us directly to the second floor. He proceeds to explain that if I need to sit in the chair to let him know and he will stop. He cannot push me in the chair because of his back and cannot allow my husband to. They are coming closer. The five of us get on the elevator. I remember gripping the hand-rail inside that elevator. I don’t think I sat down though. Thankful for the fact we only had to ride to the second floor. There is time.
Greeted with news all the labor/delivery rooms are full. There are labor rooms available but I will have to be moved in order to deliver because they are not fully equipped for delivery. Okay. There is time.
We begin to get settled. Say our goodbyes to the four-year old excited that her aunt is taking her to breakfast. Even now I remember that long-haired little girl with a heart way bigger than mine being excited about her brother coming. With her out of the room we proceed with changing clothes, climbing a big pregnant body into a regular hospital bed, monitors strapped on, IV started. They check the progress. Better call the doctor. It is about 8:00 am. There is time.
My parents arrive. Small talk. Thinking this might be a long day. Someone needs to call and cancel my hair appointment. The doctor comes in fresh from the shower with hair still dripping. Dad leaves the room. Doctor checks progress. “Are you ready to have this baby?” “What? Like now?” “Yes, like now. You need to push.” “Yes, I know.” It is about 8:10 am. It is time.
I will never forget the look of concern on my mama’s face. I will never forget the realization of her going through this five times. Realizing she had the same fears and joy with each birth. Seeing the olders before and seeing them after and how fast they grew.
My husband’s eyes get red each time I give birth. That day was no different. This was his first boy. He already had hunting and fishing plans with him. Someone a name could be given to. Someone to love for the rest of his life. He was right beside me. Ready to assist with whatever was needed.
This is happening too fast. There is no time to get me to a delivery room. Carts start coming through the door of that little room. The doctor climbs up on that flat hospital bed. Let’s do this.
8:32 am, a red-headed, blue-eyed baby boy entered that room with a set of lungs that wanted to be heard. The husband all red-eyed. The Nana concerned and amazed and in love. The doctor trying her best in an awkward position. And me, looking at that red-headed baby boy, holding him on top of me, and for just a minute I remember it is just him and me. My boy. How is it possible to love the second as much as the first? It just is. And later it would be for the third. What a gift of love God gives to mothers!
What a day!
I think that birth pains continue for mothers long after the birth of a child. Not just in those short moments after holding your baby for the first time in your arms, but for years. Maybe even for the rest of your life.
That inital letting go from your body is only the beginning of letting go. While in womb, a mother feeds and nourishes a growing body other than her own. She is the only source of sustenance for that little one. That child is fully dependent on her. But once the child is born, everyday, that child becomes a little more independent. Their perception begins to develop and begins to build a self-thinking, bull-headed, loud-crying, stubborn boy. Oh, wait. I mean they develop into a smart, kind-hearted, sensible, dependable adult.
And he is leaving home this weekend. We pack him up today to move him over six hours away. I won’t be able to get to him in the time it took me to birth him. But God has watched over him for twenty-two years and He won’t stop now.
We send him off covered in prayers. Excited to see what God does in his life. Certain that God will protect him. Knowing he can do anything. Praying he will move closer to home after his professional education is finished in three years.
He isn’t my little boy anymore. He doesn’t want to snorkel with me in the bay while we hold hands anymore. He doesn’t need me to provide nourishment or nurturing anymore.
We will pull out of the driveway tomorrow morning to deliver him into a new chapter of his life. We will return in a few days to begin a new chapter of ours with only one child left at home. My heart seems to be getting weaker with each one. Having these babies all spread out is tough. Too many emotions and stages of life to juggle between them all!
Behold, children are a gift of the Lord, the fruit of the womb is a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior, so are the children of one’s youth.” Psalm 127:3-4 (NASB)
Praying for this son to shoot straight and true. Praying this arrow is sharpened and ready to hit the target God intends for it. It is time.
Flipping pages of a good book goes undetected. An automatic response to bring the next desired scene is not something we consider a nuisance. It is a movement made with little to no conscious effort due to the benefit it brings. Just a natural response to a desired outcome.
The story line may weave in and out of your emotions bringing highs and lows. Gripping tales that sit waiting for you to pick up and devour. Adventures to travel in the recesses of your mind. Heart-pounding rides of terror, heart-ache, excitement, conviction. Words that inspire and ignite the senses or just stir the mind to wonder.
Not unlike flipping pages of a life. Days on the calendar clicking off the timeline of a life. Each day unknown until the end of it. Some planned and executed. Some planned and ignored. Some awaited anxiously. Some anxiously avoided. Some excitedly met and mastered. Others met and regretted.
When you finish a good book there is a sense of satisfaction. The outcome was pleasing to your mind and heart. Justice served. Reconciliation known. Good wins in the end. And they lived happily ever after.
Life doesn’t always play out the way a good read does. Some of the pages get ripped along the edges or torn out completely. Coffee spills run ink down a page leaving a big blob of mess. Sometimes the spine gets injured ruining the ability to hold it all together. And if the front cover is removed the insides are exposed to the elements.
Flipping to a new page can be voluntary or involuntary. Those involuntary flips can be hard. Memories will revisit even after two years pass. You try to think long and hard and too much about what went wrong and what caused that page to flip so violently. Would anything have prevented it? Would you even want to go back?
I suppose the only thing that can be done is create a new page after two years. Time cannot be turned back. This is not to be regained. Not if it is really lost. Redemption is in God’s hands. Not mine.
Perhaps reconciliation comes in the heart and mind of individuals and is in the form of knowing there is nothing more to what was once and is not to be again. Reconciliation found in letting go. Reconciliation found in knowing “He made Him who knew no sin to be sin on our behalf, so that we might become the righteousness of God in Him.” 2 Corinthians 5:21 (NASB)
Accepting that this page has turned, even ripped. Allow the memories to remind of mistakes made and of lessons learned. Sitting in a place of decision to move forward to the next right thing. Accepting the reconciliation offered from my Savior.
A new chapter begins…
Is there anything that you desire so much that you just can’t stop thinking about it? Your brain becomes fixated on that thing to the point you think of nothing else. When you attempt to focus on a task you become distracted and your mind takes you back to that one thing that is in the immediateness of your being! It can be anything. A cupcake. A car. A new job. A house. A person. A cupcake. Oh, I already said that.
You get the point. It. Just. Has. To. Be. NOW!
I read a book many years ago that taught about cravings. The deep recesses of our hearts’ desires bring about actions to attempt satisfaction of those desires. And the failed attempts to satisfy because the matter of our hearts’ desires are not always beneficial for us. That cupcake is not always, or ever, the best choice.
But he who doubts is condemned if he eats, because his eating is not from faith; and whatever is not from faith is sin. Romans 14:23 (NASB)
It is not always about a cupcake. Anything that distracts, like this constant ringing in my ear that has developed over that last month! Anything that takes my attention, demanding that I give in to the luscious mound of icing in all its glorious sugary creaminess, is the most pressing issue at hand. So good or bad, the distractions exist. And the seemingly good is not always good.
The faith which you have, have as your own conviction before God. Happy is he who does not condemn himself in what he approves. Romans 14:22 (NASB)
My convictions tell me that cupcake should only be eaten on special occasions. For me, that cupcake can bring dire consequences. It can pull me into a web of deceit and convince me that it means no harm. And there are 23 friends sitting next to it that shouldn’t go to waste. When those are gone there are many other options sitting to the right of the entrance of the grocery store. Or left, wherever you shop!
No, this isn’t about my fascination with cupcakes. Honestly, I haven’t had one in a while but I have had a piece of cake with deliciousness mounded on top!
This is about the distractions we allow to consume our thoughts to the point of destruction. Giving a millimeter of freedom to a deadly habit that wants to devour us. This is about making choices and knowing those choices are the best for us. This is about living in such a way that I live in peace with the choices I have made.
For the kingdom of God is not eating and drinking, but righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit. Romans 14:17 (NASB)
There you have my confession for the day. Pray I can abstain from cupcakes.
Make good choices!
In January, I started The Bible Recap. Follow the link to learn more. One reading brings me to 1 Kings 7 and 2 Chronicles 4. Details of the house of Solomon are descriptive enough to make one know the elaborate structure it was. Fine workmanship with precision created a work of art. Careful consideration was given to designing and building the house.
There is a corresponding podcast that goes along with The Bible Recap. Again, links provided here. Tara-Leigh Cobble shares insight for the daily readings. She and her team provide additional resources within the notes of each podcast. Notes linked to two videos containing examples of temple structures. If you are interested in the videos, Model of Solomon’s Temple and A’in Dara Temple in Syria, click the links.
Interestingly, the subject of these specific structures is not what brings me here today. Our current time in history is what brings me here. Before I opened these readings and viewings, I opened social and news media to see if I had missed anything overnight. Just so you know, I didn’t see anything that caused me anymore concern that what was there yesterday. But I did see more destruction of structures and lives.
The second video mentioned above, shows archaelogical remnants of an ancient temple that was recently further damaged by human hate. As I watched the video of pre- and post- photos of the temple site, I considered our recent events. The video’s narrator gave me pause to consider how history helps us see into past mistakes and provides insight into what works and what doesn’t work. Destroying relics can destroy the history lesson those relics hold.
At different points along the Israelites’ journey, stones would be erected. These stones served as markers of where they had been. Structures placed in strategic locations to remind of past situations. Structures placed to remind of what had been and how things may need to be done in the future. Structures to remind of lessons learned.
Throughout history, humans have continued the tradition of erecting structures as reminders. When these structures are destroyed, when history is erased and forgotten, we forget. I know all too well how the erasing of history can cause a repeating of mistakes. That reminder may be painful to view or just ugly to consider but it is worth leaving it in place to remember.
Then Samuel took a stone and set it between Mizpah and Shen, and named it Ebenezer, saying, “Thus far the Lord has helped us.” 1 Samuel 7:12 (NASB)
I don’t have it all together.
But I know the One that does.
I continually fail.
He has never failed.
Doubts and fear attempt to assail me.
He disperses all doubt and fear.
I have no control over anything.
He has complete control.
I can stir up chaos just by sitting still.
He calms it.
I am selfish.
He is selfless.
I am full of hate.
He is love.
With so many issues barraging us from all sides, sometimes we need to stop the onslaught and consider the One who created us.
For you have not received a spirit of slavery leading to fear again, but you have received a spirit of adoption as sons by which we cry out, “Abba! Father!” Romans 8:15 (NASB)
Leaving undone those things that stirred up the anxiety in the first place and redirecting thoughts onto the important stuff. Remembering to worship God. Reading His word. Sitting still with Him. Turning to talk with Him.
Psalm 32 (NASB)
She held her tongue too many times to count. She held her emotions in check as the mouth on that child dug a little deeper into the hurt planted in her heart. If only I could go back and ask her. If only I could go back and dig a little deeper into that heart to know that hurt a little better. To know her a little better. Not just her as my mother but her as a person.
She loved her family. I know this.
She loved her church family. I know this.
She loved flowers. I know this.
She loved coconut cake. I know this.
She loved the corner of a birthday cake with lots of icing. I know this.
She loved slathering bread with butter. I know this.
She loved making gifts of time for her family by crocheting. I know this.
I wonder how many of those stitches were cried in. I wonder how many were prayed in. I wonder how many were smiled in. Each stitch intertwined with thoughts of the one receiving the efforts of her time.
She loved having banana ice pops in the freezer for the next grandchild to walk through the door. She would offer and happily move to that freezer door to supply their wants. She would watch them devour even through brain freeze. She found delight in their delight.
She smiled and accepted each gift and card given. She knew the gift wasn’t in her hands but in her heart. She held those precious gifts in her heart through many joys and difficulties.
Her heart ached for the ache within the hearts of those she loved.
She was a mother for forty-six years. She was a grandmother for twenty-three years. She earned those credentials.
She lived the unspoken code of motherhood. Hers was to listen and offer words only when needed. Hers was to love unconditionally. Carrying the burdens of each child of hers in her heart the way only she could. Desiring the best for each one even when they would choose less than best for themselves on occasion. Sitting back, knowing heart-ache would come, allowing them to choose their own way. Desperately wanting to help them but knowing her help was not desired. Knowing her help was not necessarily what they needed. Experience is the best teacher.
As I sit to consider my mother, I consider my own motherhood. I realize she did the absolute best she could do. That is all I have done. She had no experience going into it. Neither did I.
It is like groping around in a dark unfamiliar space. Not quite sure where and when you will stump your toe. You will stump your toe! It hurts. Filling to overflowing with love for the little ones that coo and cry and giggle and pout and glow with joy and throw temper tantrums and grow and bring more little ones to start the cycle all over again.
Mothering is a scary, delightful, heart-wrenching, heart-filling roller-coaster ride. Breath-taking scenes unfold so quickly your mind cannot contain them all. And you have a front-row seat.
Friday evening before the sun set, Joseph took the body of Jesus and placed that body in a tomb. He placed a large stone in front of it.
Guards stood by that sealed tomb to make sure no one stole that body. Futile job!
Then the Sabbath rest.
On the third day, Mary and Mary went early to the grave. They found that large stone rolled away and a frightening angel telling them to not be afraid. The guards were way beyond frightened.
That angel gave them news to share. Then and there those women became the very first missionaries of the gospel message. Good news was shared that the grave had been conquered and death was no more for the risen Savior.
Today we celebrate the risen Savior. Celebrations confined in social distancing shouldn’t be hidden and hoarded but shared. Celebrating our risen Savior should be shouted aloud. HE IS RISEN! He defeated the grave and is alive for me!
We may share this amazing, grace-filled, merciful moment in many ways.
I remember my grandmother coming to visit. Her visits always brought loads of candy. This is one thing I remember about childhood celebrations!
I remember sharing egg-hunts. As a young mother, I enjoyed sharing the story of the death and resurrection of Jesus with children as they waited for the eggs to be hidden.
I remember my children coming to show me how many eggs they had found.
I remember dressing up in clothes I really didn’t want to wear!
I remember food and fun and gatherings.
This year looks a little different. This year, let’s celebrate the risen Savior with fewer things that may take our eyes off Him.
This year, let’s celebrate the risen Savior because HE IS RISEN!
Who, on Friday, defeated sin. Who, on Friday, told that thief on another cross that he would be with Him in paradise that very day. Who, on Friday, stayed on that cross until it was finished. Who, on Friday, completed a job that only He could do. Who, on Friday, provided my redemption from sin.
Joyous, glorious Resurrection Day to you!