Beach Time

I'm so thankful for the spring weather. Today had a high of 70* and was overcast. So we decided to take a walk along the beach.There was a little running around and goofing off. We didn't have a lot of time before it started raining, but we had the beach all to ourselves. After such a long winter it's nice to feel the breeze again.

  

Josiah and Selah playing with sticks.

 

Micah posing for the camera

 

Josiah and Ahavah resting in the sand.

Adventuring at the Beach

 some pictures of the beach

An interesting log.

An Adventure I Hadn't Planned On

I had a rather adventurous day. After a quick grocery trip this morning the kids and I headed over to Lighthouse Harvest to volunteer some elbow grease. We were about two-thirds the way there when I heard an odd scraping noise coming from the car in front of us, or so I thought. Until I realized that the scraping noise was coming from my van.

I pulled over and asked Josiah to hop out and take a look. He said, “It looks like our whole exhaust system is on the ground. So I got out to check for myself just how bad the damage was. Sure enough, our exhaust system was laying on the ground, though still attached in the front. I carefully turned the van around and parked in the church parking lot we'd just passed. Then I locked the doors.

The kids and I walked the 4 miles home. Half the trip home there were sidewalks, but the cars race twenty or more miles over the speed limit and don't pay attention to anything. I had to remind the younger two not to walk close to the road a couple times. As we neared the stop light on West/Lake and Carpenter road I told them, “See this is what I mean about being careful.” The guard rail had been smashed by a speeding vehicle. After that they all walked a little farther away from the road without any further warnings.

I complained at Josiah as we walked. “Why is it that every time our vehicle has a problem I'm the one driving? Why is it never Jason driving? Why is it that it always happens when I don't have service on my phone? He's known this needed fixed, but no...” and my rant continued like this for about four blocks. Poor Josiah listened patiently to my complaints and then with wisdom beyond his age he said something to the effect of, “We need to realize that this is all just temporary.”

And then I didn't complain any more. My focus had gotten off of the important things. I don't need my day, my life to be perfect, to be thankful. I can thank God for so much. The car didn't blow up. The kids and I all have two working legs so that we could walk home. He got paid today so we should be able to pay for the repairs that will be needed (I hope). Not sure how we will afford a whole new exhaust system, but God knows what we need before we even need it. So I can trust Him to take care of everything.

Well, we all made it home in one piece. So I woke Jason, he worked last night and had to work tonight. I asked Jason to arrange for a tow and repair job. We were fortunate enough to find someone who could do the work today, but this meant that I needed to walk back to the van to give the tow driver our key. I walk 10 miles every day, today would just be a slightly different, slightly more busy path then I usually take. It wasn't really a huge ordeal in relation to exercise.

As I was walking to the van I came across a bright red sporty car pulling out of Rite Aide on Lake Ave. The car was at a full stop and cars were passing both ways. So I proceeded to cross on the sidewalk. As I was half way across in front of the car the driver pulled forward. She hit me with her car. The force of the grill hitting against my left leg and arm lifted me off the ground. I'm not sure how high but high enough that neither foot was touching the ground for what felt like 5 minutes, but was likely only a couple seconds. I fell forward onto the hood of her car and hit it with my right hand as I was yelling, “STOP!, STOP!”. She kept going, pulling right into on coming traffic, as I was on the hood of her car! My left hand and leg were pinned to her grill and I yelled “STOP!” a third time.

A transit bus was picking up passengers not 50 feet from us and he laid on his horn. It was then that she stopped. She was halfway into traffic when she finally put on the brake. Another car on the opposite side of the road honked his horn and flashed his lights to inform oncoming traffic to stop as well. There was traffic passing in both directions, but the other vehicles were paying attention to the road and no car ran into her.

Once she finally stopped I got off the hood of her car and went back onto the sidewalk. She also backed into the parking lot in that moment.

My veins were pumped full of adrenaline at this point. My heart was racing and I was really freaked out. It was then that I began to yell at her. Not so much in anger as from fear and frustration. I yelled, “You could have killed me. Get off your phone. What were you thinking!?! Get off your phone! Don't ever drive and talk. Don't you know you nearly killed me. You could have killed yourself. Don't you know how dangerous that is?” At that point she still had her cell phone in her left hand.

Her face was white as ash. She didn't say a word. Then I guess she dropped her phone in her lap or something because she put her head in her hands and I could see that she was crying.

I then said, no longer yelling, “I don't have any broken bones” half to her, half assessing my condition. I said, “I didn't hit my head.” More of a question then a statement. “No, I didn't.” I wasn't yelling anymore, but I was speaking loudly.

I turned and started to walk away. I had no intention of making her pay for hurting me. I was okay, shaken but okay. Then looking at the driver one last time I said without any anger and much more calmly, “Don't ever talk on your phone and drive”.

I walked down the road a bit. The transit driver stopped me as I passed. He said to me, “Are you okay, miss?”

I smiled faintly. “I think so,” I said, “bit shaken is all.”

He said, “I saw the whole thing. It was entirely her fault. And no you didn't hit your head. But you'll be feeling that tomorrow.”

As I walked another block or so I began to realize what had just happened. I began to realize just how close I'd come to a much worse situation. And I began to thank God for his protection. And my eyes began to water a bit. My body was still full of adrenaline as I walked three times as fast as I'd been walking the final mile to my van.

When I finally got to the van, the tow driver was already waiting for me. I told him my ordeal, still reeling from it and he suggested that he take me home after he dropped off our van. That's not typically something AAA would do. He also advised me that we did not need a whole new exhaust system, but only a new muffler. Which would, no doubt, save us quite a lot. The mechanics at the shop looked and agreed, yes they would likely need only to repair the muffler itself. I said, “Oh, thank you God.” The tow driver smiled and said he'd not heard it phrased that way before. But it wasn't a phrase I said, I really was thanking God.

The tow drive talked to me all the way home from the shop. He talked about his wife, his kids and his own vehicle mishaps that he'd had over the years. And my racing heart began to relax. As I stepped out of the tow truck, I whispered a blessing over him and his family.

Two hours later the shop called for us to pick up the van. That was the fastest repair job I've ever been aware of. Though I was a bit stiff from the days events I walked the 3.5 miles to the shop to pick up our van. I was extra careful crossing parking exits. In fact, I went around every car that was stopped, just in case. I prayed as I walked. I prayed for the driver who'd hit me, that she would be blessed, and that she would learn a lesson and be more wise in her driving choices. I prayed for the tow driver and his family, who also happen to be neighbors I'd never met. I prayed for the shop keeper and the mechanics who worked on our van. And I thanked God again for his many blessings in my life.

And now as I get ready to sleep I can feel all the muscles in my body tense and achy. Over the last several hours I've tried to busy myself with other things so that I didn't relive the very frightening reality that I experienced. I know that it could have been a disaster today.

When I came home Jason said, “You could have been killed.” I said, “Well that wouldn't have been horrible, then I'd be in heaven. I could have been maimed, that's scary.”

So I guess if there is any moral to this story, it would be... Be thankful for the good, and the bad. Be thankful for every moment because, “...this is all just temporary.”

Messy Messes and Chili On My Carpet

I have been teaching my children how to cook since they were toddlers. I think it is important for kids to learn life skills such as cooking. Tonight I asked Josiah to help with dinner. He wasn't thrilled to do it, but he did. Then he proceeded to spill chili all over my kitchen and well into the living room. It was a big mess, chili was everywhere, and he felt awful about it. I don't think he could have made a bigger mess if he'd tried to do it.

I could have freaked on him about the mess. Maybe a year ago I might have. I could have gotten a rag and cleaned it up for him. Sometimes I hear the sound of my own mother's voice in my head saying, “If you want something done right you've got to do it yourself.”

I am so glad that God doesn't freak out on us when we make messes. And I am thankful that He still chooses to use us fallible pots of clay even when our messes spill out all over the place.

Sometimes life is messy. Sometimes the messes are tiny and don't require much clean-up other times they overshadow everything. Chili all over the place, even if it was most of the jar, in the grand scheme of things is just a little mess. I want to help my son learn to clean up the little messes, so that he will be capable of cleaning the bigger ones when they come along.

We like the little messes best I think. They are quick and don't require too much embarrassment on our part. But they rarely teach us anything of substance.

The older I get the more I have grown to embrace the messiness of life. Not the little stuff that quickly come and go, but those real messes that I used to dread.

I have begun to see them in a different way. I have begun to see how God uses our messes for our perfection. He takes those things in our lives that are just too big and too uncomfortable, and He says, “Come look what I can do with this mess you made.”

He does more then just cleaning up our messes. He teaches us through our messes. He grows us and brings us into a greater maturity by revealing these messes in our lives and showing us how to deal with them.

Why and How I'm Writing Lately

The words I write here are different than a lot of my writings. Sometimes I write to de-clutter my mind. Often this is the way God helps me to find His rest in my life.

Sometimes I write for the sake of beauty. I want to write poetry to express the beauty I see around me. I want to draw and paint to show the beauty I see in the nature of this world and in the nature of God.

Other times I write words of prophecy or words of wisdom, because I have a hard time speaking cohesively. I think sometimes I have trouble because most people think in words. I do not think in words but in images, like film clips in my mind, thoughts come to me. And turning the pictures into words takes time so God allows me to write down what He wants me to tell others, whether for the body or individually.

More and more lately my writing has been an offering to God. Just before I sit down to write I begin in prayer asking God to make my heart like His heart and then to write my heart on the page.

The words that follow are truth and life to me. They are words or more often images that I turn into words that He gives me for my own life.

So I have wondered why I ought to put them here on this page. And though I write a great deal, I wonder what God would have me place here and why. I have learned over the years and have been reminded recently that God does not reveal his truths to us for us to hoard them for ourselves.

So in part, that is why I write these things here, for the benefit of others. Not that I have answers, often rather, I have questions. But questions can pull us out of our darkness.

God has begun to show me that He wants me to share my life, transparently before others. So this is me, raw and at least mostly unfiltered.

Sometimes it's scary to write down the words, knowing that others may read them. But unlike a journal which hold the private thoughts of the heart, these words are also for you. So I hope that my writing will be a blessing and a help to you also in your journey closer toward or deeper into the kingdom of heaven.

You may find my honesty difficult to read at times. Know that it is even more difficult to write. Not that I want to lie, but being vulnerable before others is a dangerous place to be.

Writing here is a sort of vulnerability that I am not comfortable with. But it is a step in a process that God is working out in me. A process of giving Him control of my life.

I've been writing about the dichotomy of control lately and will likely share when I have assembled my thoughts more clearly. I've also written some about being vulnerable before God. In giving control and being vulnerable there is some overlap of ideas. I guess that is to be expected at times when you write.

God has been asking our little family to become more vulnerable before Him and others lately. And it has been both a frightening and rewarding journey so far.

He has also been speaking to our family about giving Him our yes in life. It is such a simple act to say yes to God. And such an out on the limb experience to live.

God has been so faithful to us over the last six months to prove Himself again and again to us as we have chosen to tenderly step out onto His path for our lives, instead of following our own path.

I think every Christian goes through a time of sifting or refining which can be painful. Our lives have been a matter of walking around in the wilderness for a while now. Like the Israelite people who wandered for 40 years, we've been wandering for 8.

God has pulled us from our wandering and has begun to allow us to possess some freedom and understanding that our family has not previously understood. So I want to share that with others... but I want to do so in such a way that my words would be like a drink offering to the Lord.

I hope that in the weeks and months that follow you see this in my words... but more so I strive to please God with my words, however incomplete they may be.

God's Reasons

So I had another poem I've been working on all week but I can't seem to fully express so I set that one aside and pinned this poem this evening. I hope you enjoy it. 

God's Reasons 

3-1-2016

I heard a poet once pen the words

“God has a reason for everything”.*

I waited for those words to sink in.

I rolled them around in my mind,

Like a child with a shiny new marble.

I wanted to know the depth of the poets words.

There is a reason for the wind, the storm, the pain?

A purpose for the broken-hearted suffering I hide away?

A sanity in the midst of my madness?

As the image infused my intellect I let it seep further still.

Past my fortifications, deep into the core of who I am.

I let it sit there alone in the darkness; in the brokenness.

Every conceived answer to the question “Why?”

….seems so forced, so trite.

Still I ask the question, as have you; “Why God, why?”

At times He answers with gentle love, sometimes He is silent.

There is an echo in our sighing and a sorrow in our question.

He knows the agony in our words and felt the sting of their formation.

He knew our anguish, and experienced our suffering.

There is a hope in our listening for the voice of our maker.

There is peace in knowing that we can trust His ways.

There is love in His reasoning, even when we can not see.

*Poet/Song Writer Jason Upton from his song “God's Got a Reason for Everything”

Making Space Part Twelve of Twelve: Space To Trust & Relinquish Control

Part Twelve of Twelve: Space To Trust & Relinquish Control

In this silence, in this day, in this season of my life, I am purposing to intentionally clear away the debris that has cluttered my life. It is not that I am shirking my responsibilities as a wife, as a mother. But I am purposefully taking time to remove unneeded baggage in my life.

The unneeded baggage around my waist is easy compared 

to the unneeded baggage around my heart. Just as the removal of clutter in my home is a steady process, so too is the clutter of my heart.

There are things in my life today that have been illuminated before me in this season that have been there all along, but I was oblivious to there presence, and hindrance in my life, and relationship with God.

Where I did not see before, I clearly see now. 

For the sake of transparency I here disclose a lifelong need for control. I have for as long as my memory holds have held on the the illusion that I could somehow gain control of the circumstances in my life. That if I did certain things, or became a stronger, better person that I would be able to hold control of my own life in my hands.

But control, aside from self-control (tempering your reactions to outside stimuli) is an impossible lie. Even self-control is beyond me most days, in and of myself. It is only when I give the Holy Spirit reign in me that I keep my tongue from stupidity and my feet from the path of temptation. 

Equally, trust has been always difficult for me. Trusting anyone with me, with the stuff I have filled my space with has never come easy to me. With every little betrayal, or misunderstanding I have driven yet another nail in the coffin that holds my trust. 

So I am giving space, here on these pages for God to take control of my words. I am giving space for my trust in God's plan for me to increase. I am trusting God first, that my words are worth writing. I am trusting that God will guard my heart. I am trusting that it is God who has allowed these words to flow from the space in my head onto my fingertips and out into cyberspace.

So please, take the words that I have poured out here, as from my heart. Because that is what you see; my heart poured out as an offering to God.

 

 

 

Making Space Part Eleven of Twelve: Space For Sons and Daughters

Part Eleven of Twelve: Space For Sons and Daughters 

Or maybe you say, “I am a believer, and I already made space for God, a year ago, or twenty years ago. Isn't that good enough?” I could ask this of myself. I did ask this of myself. My answer to myself and to you is, “Where have you made space in this day?”

We can eat the stale bread of yesterday, but it will not satisfy. We can try to live in the experiences of the past, but it will bring bitterness to the soul and cause deep longing in our spirit.

Luke said, "Now He is not the God of the dead but of the living; for all live to Him." Luke 20:38

We don't fall madly in love and get married just to say to our spouse, “Well, I'm telling you today I love you. Don't expect me to say it again. And I sure don't want to hear you tell me that you love me either.” 

Obviously not, rather we say, “I love you”, in a million little whispers over a lifetime. We say it in thousands of self-sacrificing actions because our hearts melt for that guy or that girl.

In the same way, we are to be filled with the Spirit of God. That actually means being continually filled with the Spirit of God. To do this we've got to get the junk out of the way. 

It's this choice we make before we even open our eyes each morning. We choose to make space or to fill space. I know we live busy lives. But what we love most is what we will fill our space with.

So I ask myself again and again, “Have I left my first love?” If but for a moment?

 

 

 

 

 

Making Space Part Ten of Twelve: Space For the Skeptical

Part Ten of Twelve: Space For the Skeptical 

You say, “I'm not a believer. Why would I want to give space to the Spirit of God?”

I can give you a few good reasons.

One; because, like my son, you have seen the chains that bind you and have found no way to break free.

It is the Spirit of God who says, “I bind up (bandage) the brokenhearted, and bring freedom to the captive.”

If you feel like you are in prison chains it is Jesus who paid the price for your freedom on the cross. He suffered your

punishment and mine, so that we might be set free from the trap we put ourselves in.

I am not talking about joining a social club (church). I am talking about allowing space to see if God can do what He says He will do. Allowing space to see just how real God can be.

Two; if you are brokenhearted, then space for healing is what you need. Jesus is the original miracle worker. He's the archetype of healer. 

You already know that your brokenness can't be cured by the newest self-help method. You know deep down that the things you are trying to fill up your space with can't really put back together your shattered heart.

But the love that God gave us in His death on the cross is more then sufficient to heal every single piece, fully and completely. But He doesn't stop there, He makes us more, so much more then when we first started out. 

Three; you have come to the end of your struggle to meet the standards of the world and have found it empty and dry. Whether you found great success or utter failure in your attempt to measure up to the worlds demands you have found yourself hungry and thirsty and wondering in the wilderness of life. 

 

Jesus declared, "I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty." John 6:35

 

 

 

Making Space Part Nine of Twelve: The “It” in Space is Ever-present

Part Nine of Twelve: The “It” in Space is Ever-present

The “It” in space, the thing on the tip of our tongue, in the corner of our mind, just out of reach is the inconvenient reality of existence. Weather you profess a faith in Jesus Christ or not “It” is always there. “It” does not stops gently wooing.

When you walk through life, that “It” is like wisdom calling in the street, she calls the simple to come, she calls to those who will listen to come. And “It” has been calling since the beginning of time.

We can not clearly hear “It” calling above the noise of life. We must stop our flurry of activity or we will miss “It”. We will miss the beginning of all things. We will miss the amazing creativity that we were destined to be.

And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. Gen 1:2

We don't have to miss the beginning of all things, of new things. He comes like a dove gently. He does not force space. He does not demand attention. 

But if we choose to make space; a void. Then He will move upon the face of our waters; in the moments of our lives. And He will create in us. He will create through us. He will recreate us into His image. Or if you like, into the image of Jesus Christ.

What a mess of ourselves we have made, and what a great hope that He can recreate us. What a relief that I don't have to stay the way that I am.

I am not bound forever to my impatient ways, because God shows us how to be patient. I am not always required to stick my proverbial foot in my mouth, because God is teaching me prudence and wisdom. 

I do not have to forever be bound by the opinion of others or the voices in my head. Because I can find my worth and my identity in Jesus Christ.

I do not have to remain self-centered. Because God teaches me to renew my mind, to take up my cross, and to become a servant. 

Doing the things on my own, being selfless for the sake of selflessness breeds bitterness, but allowing space for the Spirit of God, brings peace. Striving ceases.

I do not have to live defeated. I do not have to believe the lies of my past... because He can recreate me into something new, something wonderful. Like Kintsugi (gold repair of ceramic faults) I can be made even more precious then when I was first crafted.

 

 

 

 

Making Space Part Eight of Twelve: Space Demands We Answer Who Is Our God?

Part Eight of Twelve: Space Demands We Answer Who Is Our God? 

Do we even know the identity of the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob (Israel)? Do we know what He looks like? What kind of god do we serve?

Will our god be the one we fashioned from our trinkets

because we got tired of waiting or because we became afraid of the silence? Will it be the god who just sprang from the fire as a golden calf?

You say, “We don't worship idols in America”. Maybe, we do not bow to a visible calf made of pure gold, yet I wonder, what invisible calves fill up our space. I'm sure you can think of more then a few.

Will our god hear our petitions if we cut ourselves, and wail loudly, do we worship a god like baal? Must we beg our god to love us, to forgive us, to rescue us from harm? Must we debase ourselves, abuse ourselves to receive his acceptance? Is the god we serve vengeful and malicious toward his worshipers? Will he strike us with flaming arrows at the mere thought of weakness?

Or does our God give grace to those who humble themselves before Him? Does our God heal the broken-hearted bringing freedom to the captive and sight to the blind? Does our God forgive the sins of the one with a contrite heart? Does our God offer hope to the hopeless, family to the orphan? Does our God (our Father) run to us while we are still far off, wrap His clock around us, put His ring on our finger and kill the fatted calf that we may have our fill?

If we fashion our own god, if our god is hard of hearing, if our god is vengeful, if our god exploits weakness then allowing space will surly destroy us. It will crush us beneath the weight of his power.

But if our God is loving, if our God is kind, if our God is patient, if our God is long-suffering, if our God is the Father of lights then we need not fear providing space.