He Wants To

I've said it several times in the last few days . . . "and when I see Him, face to face, I long to hear Him say, 'well done, my good and faithful servant . . . enter . . .' " That is what really matters to me!

"Well done, good job, you did it, you make me smile, I am pleased, thank you , YOU LIVED . . . enter."

He longs to speak those words over us!

When my children were little ones perched around our kitchen table, eating food prepared by my hands, earned by his, blessed by Grace, my husband would say, "good supper, momma!" as he pushed his chair away from the table. Almost every meal.

Made me smile every time.

A few times, he forgot. Taking his hand and resting my head on his shoulder I would nudge his thoughts with a whisper, "please say it". Grinning he would repeat the familiar phrase he loved to say and I loved to hear.

The Lord will not forget . . . He will remember much that we have forgotten . . . because it is His nature to want us to know  . . . that He is pleased and blessed.

Lord, what might I do to make you smile today?

Baby Asaph

Our first grandbaby was born July 24, 2011. I arrived in New York City just hours before he entered the world. He was born at home, weighing in at 9 lbs. 11 oz. He is beautiful!
His parents, our son, Caleb, and his wife, Ashley chose the name Asaph because they love Psalm 73, a Psalm of Asaph. They had a friend die recently, a close friend, a young man that they loved very much. The Lord comforted their hearts with this Psalm of Asaph.
He will be called "Ace".
His middle name is Bernard, Ashley's maiden name.
I am reading through the Bible again this year and while I was caring for Asaph who was only a few days old, watching him sleep in his crib, I read in my daily reading 1Chronicles 15-16. Verse 7 of chapter 16 says, " On that day David first delivered this psalm into the hand of Asaph and his brethren, to thank the Lord . . ." the psalm follows.
What will be delivered into this little guy's hand to do for the Lord? I am not sure yet, it has not yet been revealed. Until I see it, I will pray for it, and for him, this little man that has stolen my heart.
I am home now and missing him so much. I keep asking the Lord if I really have to remain a Kansas girl forever. I could give it up in a heartbeat!

Quenched

Yesterday

vibrant springtime
birds singing happy melodies
trees dressed in the greenest of greens
earth shouting happy
so happy to be alive
drink filled
saturated

today

breezes dare to blow
the heat around
weeds bow lower
cowering near earth
away from sun
earth baking
in the summer heat
green fades to brown
the thirsty
pleading to be quenched

tomorrow

rain returning
clouds  hovering
roots cease reaching
brittle leaves softening
all the wilting lift their heads
gazing upward ready
for the pour of heaven


a time of refreshing has come
life is renewed
hope revived
thirst quenched
heart heals

The Closet

"And Lord! hear me as I pray that Thou wouldest everywhere bless the closets of Thy believing people." Andrew Murray


My closets runneth over and there is no room for me!

I have been sorting, piling, purging with a toss here and a pitch there. I am overwhelmed. I even brought my daughter who is an expert with organizational skills (she even considered making it a profession . . . and, yes, I am her real mother!) from New York City to help me. Ashli has no problem letting me know that something is just not right for me to wear even if I do love it! I am so grateful for her honesty because it has helped me to discard apparel that I would probably hang onto until the Lord returns if it were up to me, just in case it would be the perfect thing to wear someday.

The bedroom closet that I share with my husband is rather small. tiny compared to the closets that are out there today. Some of my friends have closets that could be a small bedroom. So I decided to fix my dilemma by making the smallest bedroom in our house, the one closest to our room into a closet for me. I painted it a warm, welcome pink, added a few antique pieces, and some vintage art and "voila". It was so much fun fixing it up, but over time, I am afraid, it has become a catch-all the place to stash anything and everything in haste.

The day of reckoning has arrived and I am restoring the closet room to a healthy, happy state, meaning I am going to be very happy when the project is complete.

Once upon a time, most of a home was public with shared living spaces. The closet was one of the few places of privacy. Imagine all that might have happened in one.

I have been reading two books about the "secret place" Jesus called a closet. He said to go in, not to hide your stash or to find it, but to find Him. He promised to meet anyone who would be willing to make their closet a place to seek Him. Of course, I don't take this literal, but in a way, I do. I don't want to work so hard at filling my closet because I really desire more time resting in it . . . meeting Jesus there. I want my closet to runneth over with Him!

"Lord, draw us all in the closet nearer to Thyself and the Father. Amen." Andrew Murray

On The Mend

Her white blond hair hung down the length of her back. She grinned then grabbed her momma's waist and leaned into her . . . shyness can overcome a girl of nine.

The U-Haul they had rented was parked nearby, ready to unload. They had brought it all the way from New Mexico to Joplin, full of goods for the needy ones. She had made a plea on their behalf, stood in the gap for the hurting, and the response was overwhelming. Friends and neighbors and some folk they didn't even know generously responded, bringing enough to fill a truck. A little child shall lead them.

She was going to take dance lessons this summer. She was. She wanted to . . . twirl, spin, leap . . . but she wanted to rent that truck more than she wanted to feel the wind beneath her wings. Even more so, she wanted to ride in the truck to Missouri with her mom and help people. There won't be any dance lessons for her this summer, maybe next year, she is on a mission instead, dancing her way into the hearts of the homeless.

Her daddy died three months ago. She and her momma cried and cried but all the ache would not go away. The pain of losing someone you love can hang on for a very long time. They chose to shake off their hurtful hearts and give to others who had lost more. It wouldn't bring her daddy back but it would make him very proud of her, even so.

A  little girl of eight came to sign up to receive free supplies for the victims of winds. I helped her and her momma sign the papers, writing her name and age in the designated box, and those of her sisters, too. I introduced her to my new little friend  from New Mexico. They were shy at first, strangers, grinning, then dimpled grins turned down to look at painted toenails inspecting the other's flip-flops. They went through the "store" together, pushing  and filling the grocery cart while becoming friends. My new little friends, girls, ages 8 and 9  found a place to mend in the company of one another.

Like I said, I didn't sit on a pew last Sunday. My twirly skirt remained on the hanger, but I got the message that the Lord wanted to teach me. It was delivered by a nine year old girl from New Mexico. It was about giving when you are hurting and letting the healing come. There is something about reaching out when all you want to do is cower in that liberates one from the heaviness of grief. I got the message, but more than that, the message got me.

 Did I just see her pirouette?

Beyond the Pew

When mind is small it thinks on small things. My mind was fixed upon wearing my new pink twirly skirt to church Sunday. It is beautiful! Dancing is not required, it has a graceful, pretty flow when you walk across the room.

I received a call Saturday afternoon that caused my small mind to completely forget about the skirt. Thankfully.

I was called upon to help at a church that is helping the needy victims of the Joplin tornado. I have been wanting to help, asking the Lord where to go, what to do.

So Sunday, I put on my capris and my t-shirt and went to Joplin to be the church.

We are supposed to grow at church. I am told of those who have gained pounds as a result of church suppers. I am most likely guilty of that. It is easy to grow seated around a bountiful table, but we are supposed to grow spiritually seated around the altar. It can be easy to get fat there, too.  Yesterday I was called upon to exercise my faith, away from the altar feast,  with my hand outstretched toward hurting and broken people.

 Today the tears fall like rain.

I hope I never see destruction like I saw in Joplin ever again in my lifetime. Words do not convey, tv news reporters cannot depict, stories cannot reveal, cameras cannot catch how devastating the reality is.

My friend, Rosamary, spent nine 14 hour days there . . . yesterday was her tenth. I have spent one measly day, small, small sacrifice on my part.

I met a little girl yesterday. I am going to have to tell you her story. Think I will write about her tomorrow, that is unless I am called back to Joplin to work.

Please pray for the people of Joplin. 7000 homes were destroyed. Last I knew, 151 people have died as a result of that one damaging storm.

There are people who have lost everything. One lady said that she buried five family members and a friend.

So many are still in shock. Some are getting their bearings. The strong ones are sharing hope.

I will never be the same . . . amen.

Twirly skirts sitting on a church pew . . . what was I ever thinking?

A Simple Phrase

He spoke it, I heard it, then I did it.

It was one of the most powerful phrases I have ever heard in my entire life.
He didn't say it the first time I went to him, nor did he give me the eternal nugget the second time that I called.
The tenth time I called him with questions he spoke this life changing message, a few potent words when acted upon.

"You need to read the Bible, then you will know what to believe."

Over thirty years have passed since those words were spoken to me. It has been nearly that many years since I last saw him . . . until the other day.

We were at the funeral of my mom's best friend, a celebration of eternal life.

I beckoned him when I saw his face as he stepped over the threshold of the church.

"I am indebted to you for eternity. You spoke a simple phrase that has altered my life. I am forever grateful!"

I reminded him of my story, of the tenth time when I called him on my quest for truth. Then I told him that I have read through the Bible so many times that I have lost count. It doesn't matter to me any longer how many times, I just want to know it better, know Jesus better.

A few people have been touched by the Word because that phrase was spoken to me. Might there be more?

I cannot express strongly enough the importance of that simple phrase. It was like a pebble dropped in a deep sea, the ripples it created continue to seek rest at the shore. Indefinitely they roll.

Thanking him has reminded me of a lot of things. Foremost, it has renewed a prayer in my heart . . . "Lord, give me power-phrases that will impact Your kingdom for eternity. Amen."