My childhood music teacher traveled from classroom to classroom bearing instruments and songbooks. She had an autoharp and on a lucky day I would be called to the front of the room to strum it, her hands guiding mine. Some days she came with a large flip chart revealing a language I chanted but did not understand. I just spoke the bold syllables as her long pointer tapped them: ta ta titi ta titi titi ta ta. I’m sure this lesson on rhythm and form enlightened me in some way, but at the time all the recitation felt fruitless.

The Bible says that God’s word never returns to Him void. God’s word accomplishes His purposes. Not merely a collection of syllables meant to teach me a lesson, all scripture is God-breathed (2 Timothy 3:16). When I incline my breath to speaking His all-powerful word, I align with Him and His power. I join the breath that created the universe and grasp the power to move mountains.

When Satan tempted Jesus in the desert, Jesus responded with scripture, “It is written…” and Satan fled. How many times a day are my senses bombarded with falsehoods and enticing appeals veering me away from God’s plan? In moments of vulnerability and weakness I speak God’s word in faith, planting the seeds of His fruit in my life.

As the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, so is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it. Isaiah 55:10-11

The Lord knit me together in my mother’s womb. His eyes saw my unformed body. He created my inmost being. (Psalm 139) My beginnings were in God’s hands, my very conception His “knit one, purl two” and there is no end to His knitting the fabric of my being. I am never tossed aside into a basket or cut short to unravel. Psalm 139 aligns me with this truth. I am not incidental or irrelevant. I am dearly loved, majestically designed and eternally held.

From the day I learned I was expecting each baby, I couldn’t help but sing my joy to anyone who would listen. My delight was in dreaming and planning for this baby, my child. I gazed long at impossibly tiny garments, pored over pages about breastfeeding and “natural mothering”and acquired all the necessary substances and gear peculiar to the adorable and intoxicating condition of babyhood. My euphoria was dizzying and it distracted me from the work God was doing in me and in the child within my womb. If I could do it all again, I would forego the mega-baby-stores and how-to manuals to sweetly meditate on Him.

The Bible says God created me in my mother’s womb and where God is working there are no accidents.

Your eyes saw my unformed body, all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be. Psalm 139:16

If you could spend an hour with any person from the past or present, who would you choose?

Whenever I hear this question, I can’t help but muse over the possibilities. Jesus and treasured or long lost relatives prevail, but if I’m feeling whimsical, a writer, artist or some other one-of-a-kind figure like Ben Franklin or Aristotle might bounce to the top.

Who can resist the affection of a grandmother or unraveling the mystery of an ancestor or the captivating curiosity of a charming character? Yet none of these rivals the Breath of Life, the Great I Am, Creator of love, inspiration, genius, all that is visible and invisible, keeper of all riddles and resolutions. I didn’t have to imagine such an encounter, I simply showed up and walked with Him.

I collect things. I am fond of thought-provoking quotes, rocks, books, buttons, hearts and handmade pottery. I even have a nice “collection” of people in my life. If I hold them up to the light and regard their finest qualities, I might find the strength of my grandfather in one, the tender humanity of Henri Nouwen or a stroke of Rembrandt in another. Each rarity and wonder, every genius, flair and finesse is God wrapped in form, a glorious testimony for the world to see.

Setting out to be alone with God, I found Him alone, for He is the radiant light in all.

After he had dismissed them, he went up on a mountainside by himself to pray.Later that night, he was there alone,  Matthew 14:23

I know that God called me to the park that day in August. There isn’t a single doubt in my being that He called me. I remember I was busy in the dining room when I finally said Okay, I’m going to the park! I think I need to get to the park! Something in my spirit—the Holy Spirit—was urging me and I chose to follow that rush of wind pushing me out the door.

I remember the path where He said Take off those earphones and the tree I was under when He said I will be walking with you and the baseball field I was passing when I thought If You will be here, I will come every day…until my birthday. I remember it like a momentous conversation with an extraordinary spirit that changed my life forever, because that is exactly what it was.

The thing is, I know the Holy Spirit has spoken to me countless times before, but I wasn’t listening. Oh, I have listened, but how many times have I dismissed that urging, that comfort, that warning, that gentle voice? And if I did hear, did I follow? God wants me to hear and obey. He has a good reason for that, in fact all of His motives, plans, words and whispers to me are good and perfect. His Holy Spirit blesses me, I need only listen and follow!

He replied, “Blessed rather are those who hear the word of God and obey it.”     Luke 11:28

 

My life is about to change. I walked past my middle son’s room this morning and he called out to me.  I have your ring. Sitting at his desk he looked down at a slender paper hand he’d cut out and drawn with modest nails and sweet, penciled curly-q’s for knuckles. The hand was just the size of his beloved’s, which he had stealthily measured with his skillful eye against his palm. On the fourth finger of this precious artwork was my engagement ring, serving as a mere spark for his brilliant dreams and designs.

I love this boy, this young man. I have looked up to him for 22 years. I would like to say that I made him the person he is, but that would not be the truth. I am blessed to be his mother. I am blessed that God’s deliberate hand placed him and his brothers in my midst to love and nurture.  I delight in these, God’s very own children.

He is leaving me someday, this child I admire, to join his dearest, whom I am also blessed to adore. I heard long ago that parents should pray for the future spouses of their children, so I did. I prayed for her years before I knew this girl whose hands would inspire my son to visions of diamonds and curly-q knuckles. Those who God puts in my life are precious to me and I want only to shine and reflect our Father’s love upon them.

“And I will be a father to you, And you shall be sons and daughters to Me,” Says the Lord Almighty. 2 Corinthians 6:18

One day on my walk I heard squealing. I was nearing the lake, alone in the quiet park and heard something, somewhere in distress. A lost gosling? An injured bunny? My curiosity was piquing and soon I was pushing aside leggy sticker bushes and bending under dewy spider webs, stopping every few moments to listen for what began to sound more like a deep, panicked wail.

Down near the water, under a bush, I saw the long, black, curving tail of a snake and, at the other end, the croaking victim. The snake had secured one leg and the belly of the frog in its mouth, rendering it helpless. All the poor thing could manage was the occasional bellows, which ceased in my presence. Perhaps my arrival eased the frog’s despair, though I hadn’t intended on interfering. Taken by the gripping scene at my feet, however, I snooped and maneuvered branches for a clearer view which perturbed the snake. All at once, it abandoned its prey and slipped off into the lake. The frog, not pausing to thank me, was gone in an instant.

I scrambled back up to the paved path and returned to my tranquil stroll, considering hope. Even if frogs could hope, I doubt this one saw me coming. But on that day, in that minute I was and I was in the mood for meddling. I smile when I consider God’s ways, His seamless, perfect ways. There is always hope. God is always present.

For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently. Romans 8:24-25

When my grandfather died at 99, my mother and I began to prepare his home to be sold. He and my grandmother, who had predeceased him by 20 years, made it their sweet home in the 1930’s and that flourishing property on the corner by the bay was the hub and heart of our family. Saddened by the unthinkable conclusion of a beloved generation, mom and I headed down to the homestead to work.

Like many people from that era, Jim and Eva kept everything. The house was neat and orderly and each and every cabinet and closet was chock full of neat and orderly piles, boxes and envelopes. Fabric, letters, dishes, Bible studies and notes, financial accounts, embroidered handkerchiefs, grandchildren’s art, photos, clothes, Mason jars (350), every model of iron from the 30’s to the 90’s. It began as a daunting task and became a great cathartic blessing of love, rich memories and even an occasional unearthing of a puzzle piece which, to my surprise, mended a hollow, wanting place in my heart.

I took breaks on the sunny back porch where Grammy used to sing to the mockingbirds in the hedge. I let my puppy run the length of Pop Pop’s field, her paws stirring up long ago rows of bushy lima beans and bright red dabs of juicy strawberries. I stood in the dark, cool cave of the barn and observed his tools hanging still from the rafters, the exhausted pile of burlap collecting so much dust.

In life and even in death and loss, God fills me with peace, assurance, joy and immense, impossible love. His gifts are always waiting to be discovered. He loves me so.

You will make known to me the path of life; In Your presence is fullness of joy; In Your right hand there are pleasures forever. Psalm 16:11

One person gives freely, yet gains even more; another withholds unduly, but comes to poverty. A generous person will prosper; whoever refreshes others will be refreshed. Proverbs 11:24-25

I love the book of Proverbs.  It was the first book of the Bible I was drawn to in my youth.  Back then I saw snippets of truth and wisdom, now I see a crossroad of the very principles God has woven throughout the Bible for excellent relationships with Him, with others and with myself.  The concept of receiving, giving and overflowing may evoke thoughts of possessions and money, but the essence of each is serving God and others with a faithful and willing heart.

There seems to be a common fantasy among those who play the lottery.  On that winning day they will become generous citizens of the world, doling out mortgage payments, vacations, cars and college educations to their loved ones in need.  Their heart will swell three sizes and, from their high mountain of money, they will safely apply benevolence to the people. I may have had this daydream once or twice myself.  

Generosity does not begin with wealth, it begins with obedience, faith and love.  It doesn’t begin with an excess but an accent, an acknowledgement that God is good, His blessings are ample and meant to bless others in His name that they may know His grace and mercy.  Proverbs says that a generous person will prosper.  God will replenish those who glorify Him by joyfully and generously sharing His blessings. 

Let’s not get tired of doing what is good, for at the right time we will reap a harvest—if we do not give up. Galatians 6:9

When adversity touches my life, it can be difficult to imagine how God will use it for my good and His glory. I do not question God’s existence in the midst of a tragedy, but since I am incapable of seeing the whole picture, I simply cannot fathom how His hands will ultimately forge it into blessings, benefits and beauty.

It is an act of faith to hold on through difficulties, temptations and those times when my soul is in darkness. I may not see Him or sense Him in any way, but He is here and He is keeping me. This I know. He is my salvation and even in strife and turmoil that does not change. My life is in His hands. I am promised this Savior, but I am not promised a smooth journey.

All of creation experiences upheaval. Since the fall, when Adam sinned, creation is writhing. Cycles of death and renewal are before me every day, in those I love, in my own life and in the deep rhythms of the earth. There is no stopping these things until Christ comes again and takes us with Him to heaven with His Father.

Meanwhile, I look for His majesty in everything. No matter the tragedy, God has already sown the spark of restoration. His plan cannot be thwarted and I will not lose sight of that truth. For those who look to Him, God is always there for the beholding.

The righteous person may have many troubles, but the LORD delivers him from them all. Psalm 34:19