It was September 11th, 2001. I was seven months pregnant laying on a grassy hill at the ball fields with my husband, father and sons. We had come to stare at the sky. “Boys, remember this empty sky,” my father said, “you will never see it like this again.” There were no planes, not even clouds, and my very spirit seemed to have lifted from my heavy body high into the blue. I needed to watch and connect with the sorrows erupting just one hundred miles to the north. It was all I could do. 

So many people rushed in to help, traveling thousands of miles, as I would later go to Louisiana after Katrina, but this time all I could do was love. The boys colored pictures and I sent them along with others to the firemen.  I was amazed at the details their little hands formed in the drawings, generated clearly by the compassion in their new little hearts. It was what they had to give.

At a gas station in Mississippi after that horrible storm, we straggled out of the van and into the little store. The two ladies behind the counter had seen our kind come in and realized our mission. “Did you drive all the way down here to help us?” They smiled and sung in their sweet drawl. They had no idea how we had served, just deeply grateful that we had loved.

There will always be tragedies and I can always do something. As a child of God, I am to be alert to the ways He moves me to serve and to bring the love of Christ along with me.

Be on your guard; stand firm in the faith; be courageous; be strong. Do everything in love. 1 Corinthians 16:13-14

I remember my very first Bible study group. I was new to church and new to discussing my spiritual life aloud. I clearly remember one morning sharing (perhaps it was even bragging or seeking the approval) that I had prayed while washing the dishes. As if this were especially holy, that I was so filled with love for Him, it churned out everywhere like soap bubbles. 

The memory is indelible because at that moment my soul became aware. So what? Do you have any idea how full of joy and praises you could be? You should be?

No, I had no idea then. Nor did I have any idea how noisy my life would become and how many more praises would be sung above the bedlam.  I had already faced grief and desolation and believed that God had rescued me and that my feet were on steady ground. But there was more to come, and even worse, even more unthinkable. And in those times, even as I withered and failed, I would learn to sing even louder.

Any moment with God, whether over the dishes or in a chapel, is solace and healing to the soul, even if there is no end to the madness before one’s earthly eyes. Bliss is found with Him and in Him. When I, in my depths, am touched by His consolation there is at once joy and adoration. It pierces my awareness and adjusts my soul, aligning it with His majesty and omnipotence.

It is not the world that reigns nor anything in it! God reigns. His holiness reigns. The suffering world is healed by His praises!

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you. Isaiah 43:2

 

It turns out I was right where I was supposed to be.

I wanted to stay home from church that day, but I got dressed, fixed my hair and went anyway. Oh, the worshipping and praising God deep within my spirit! And the message spoken just for me! 

I thought I might be a little too unfamiliar to attend that funeral, but my hugs were sweetly welcomed. I was appreciated more than I knew. I walked home with a renewed awareness of the beauty of life and the mark a person’s life can leave on the ones they love.

I wasn’t sure about attending a new Bible study 7 months pregnant and busy with two young sons. I went that night anyway and nearly once a week for years after.

I was busy cleaning that day in August. It was Monday, my day off, and I was preparing for my week.  Go to the park. Go walk at the park. A voice inside me urged.  I said, I have things to do. Why should I go to the park? 

I never know what God has in store but I do know that it is good! He can change my life every single day with a sermon, a hug, a person or a walk in the park. It isn’t for me to know, just to go!

Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord.     Romans 12:11

The bluejay on my crepe myrtle simply has no choice but to call wildly and almost irritatingly each day to his counterpart across the yards. He is announcing his location at my window feeder. The other comes in and lights on the tree and then they take up their seed together, side by side, in unparalleled shades of blue.  

God’s living creations abounded on my walks, performing their utmost to His glory. The catbirds sang gaily nonstop. The deer lifted their white tails and sprung off together in unison. Even the geese descended in formation like a squadron of planes tipping their wings to dazzle.

God’s Word calls for perfection, even if I am never to grasp it two moments of it in a row. All life starts there, in His transcendence. The earth is ordained to operate in the fulfillment of His plan, despite defect and stumbling block. Impediments also abound, but His authority finds a way.  A new sprig, its root paled in darkness, pushes to the sun through a split in the rock. A tree handsomely incorporates the deep carving of a lover’s knife. A goose having lost its foot still serves the flock.

I wrote these words years ago in a poem about beauty. …It is our soul, the anxious arrow, Held by our body, a timid bow…God didn’t make me to be anxious and timid. He made me to walk in His Sovereignty and perform the Master’s work with excellence!

Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men, knowing that from the Lord you will receive the inheritance as your reward. You are serving the Lord Christ. Colossians 3:23-24

At times it is clear that God has put me in place to help someone in need.  Christmas Eve 2011, in a hospital bed, was one of those times. I’d had major abdominal surgery the day before and was alone in a double room until early on Christmas Eve when the door opened and in came an elderly lady, loudly bemoaning her circumstances. 

“It’s terrible! Terrible!” She was wheeled in surrounded by a nurse and her family.  Her daughter, a bit frazzled, smiled sweetly, if not apologetically, over to her mother’s new roomie. I just watched, stranded flat on my bed. Finally, after much ado, it was just the two of us— me and the lamenting one. I think it was then God told me, You are going to be friends. I quickly conceded, understanding that otherwise I would not only be in agony from my incision, but also from my roommate.

Miss June wouldn’t eat, couldn’t take herself to the bathroom, and grieved being apart from her church family at Christmas. Though it caused searing pain for me to get out of bed, the nurses had told me to move. So I ambled over to Miss June at mealtimes and encouraged her to sip her soup. She squawked when pricked with needles, so I’d hobble over and hold her hand. And once, when Miss June was finally eating on her own, a nurse breezed in to take her blood. By then, I was my roomie’s self-designated guardian and I commanded the woman to come back when Miss June was finished!

I left Miss June on Christmas Day a little sad, but richly blessed and pleased to have been there for a friend in Jesus.  I wonder how often I miss the opportunity to share the love of Jesus, simply because I’m able to walk on by.

For if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance for the Jews will arise from another place, but you and your father’s family will perish. And who knows but that you have come to your royal position for such a time as this? Esther 4:14

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made.  In him was life, and the life was the light of men.  John 1:1-4

He was the beginning, He is the Truth carried through time. In the souls of men who stumble in darkness and yearn for light. In droplets of clouds which steal the light, releasing it again in rainwater to satisfy the dust. In the cells of a green leaf reaching from the cool shade into nourishing glow. He was the beginning. All of these things were made through Him. He saves each who comes.  

He came to quench the fields of dearth, revealed by a bright star calling all who would to gather into His Light. Some remain in the dark, not noticing Who came. They only regard their familiar night and walk the same dim path their feet have worn deep for centuries. 

Those who behold Him come with gifts and wonder and He gives them life. He has forged a narrow path through the darkness and disorder. Jesus is the Way out of darkness. There is profound rest in His Light.

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.  John 1:5

 

I don’t think God has called me to be a hermit or a monk. Yet, at least.  A girl can hope. So while He joins me in sublime moments of solitude, He also beckons me to flow with Him back into my life of, to my mind, interferences.  I am learning to submit and surrender. I want to keep my hand in God’s, at the ready for His tugs. 

Solitude with God is vital. This longing to turn quietly inward is, of course, from Him. He introduces me to the child he made me to be while we walk and dwell for hours. He prepares me for what He has made me to do. I cannot do His will nor any good without knowing myself first as a child and creation of the Most Holy God. When I discover who He is, I discover who I am.

My experience in prayer and meditation rarely turns silly, but recently it did.  I imagined entering His presence at the foot of His throne. There were others at His feet who came to beseech Him and proclaim His holiness. My gratitude about a certain thing began to rise up in pink roses. Sometimes I send my gratitude to my Father in prayer by imagining pink roses rising to the heavens but this time I began filling His throne room. Pink roses flooded to His knees and crowded the saints praying at His feet. He turned to me with a smile and raised a hand to say, “Okay, I see you.” But I kept right on filling the room with flowers and laughing like an impish child adoring her Father. His eyes laughed lovingly with me until I relented and the flowers began to dissolve. Brimming with His immense love for me, I started my day.

Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need. Hebrews 4:16

The world affords endless options.  In what shall invest my energy, time and love? I see needs, issues, emergencies. I hear demands, cries, simple requests. Where should I go and what do I have to bring? I have nothing, of myself, to offer that is not paltry and insignificant. Nothing that won’t blow away on the next breeze, becoming dust in the wind.

I have often fancied the life of a monk. I envision a single mission, a quiet realm, few distractions, prolific work. Swimming in society is exhausting and can feel so meaningless—the endless distractions, babble, occasions… 

Opportunities. For instead of being washed away by them, I am called to walk to them with Jesus. It isn’t so important that I go, just that Jesus arrives, that He is brought to and works in this life around me. When I am established in Him, He can lead me, He can go with me. He, not I, is the One whose presence is essential.

This, which to tell the truth I have never deeply considered until now, calls me to become profoundly rooted and grounded in Him. It’s the only way. To extend, I must possess. To breathe out, I must have breathed in. To walk with Him, He must be my devotion, my enthusiasm, the One I champion. Not an organization or a philosophy. Not a fleeting passion or a person, place or thing.  

Solely and wholly, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.

Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on the rock. Matthew 7:24-25

 

When I began walking, I found myself sighing to God—the One up there, over there, there…somewhere. I dropped a note into the void, trusting that He would collect it. He did. I returned again and again with a cascade for Him to gather up and straighten out. He did. Then one day I was sufficiently empty, emptied of distractions and chaos enough to listen.  

Listen to what, exactly? I mean, I knew God was out there, speaking to me in infinite ways.  A leaf spiraling midair on a filament of invisible web.  A crystal of snow placed exquisitely upon my gloved finger.  The rustle of a small bird sifting through a dry forest bed. Creation speaks of its Creator continually and unceasingly, heartening all inclined to listen. But God isn’t satisfied to just diminish my doubts and tidy my disorder. He has made His home in me, a temple of His Holy Spirit and He hasn’t come for mere housekeeping.

God doesn’t stop at the park, with the seasons and tides. Though He calls me from glades and may whisper on the wind, it is in my very soul that His voice resides. I do not walk alone to seek. He is within me like a dove, like a stone, towing me in, steadying my sails to collect His breath.  Oh, He has not nested in the bend of a tree, but in my soul!

And he said, “My presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.”  Exodus 33:14