The people of Israel were set apart by God to be His people, His shining example of the relationship He wanted with all people. But Israel was just like the rest and failed to be faithful and obedient. Rather than turning to the one true, loving and faithful God who rescued them, they continued to sin and turned to idols. From His covenant with Israel in the Old Testament to Christ’s sacrifice in the New Testament, God demonstrates again and again how wide He  has spread His arms to bring me home. God didn’t change for me. No, for me He remains the great I Am.

People often want God to change for themselves—Oh, God doesn’t mind if I do that, wink wink. People like to imagine that God is trendy enough to change with the times, but “the times” are merely a figment of that fantasy.  Society’s decisions to part from God’s will do not change God’s will. Thank God, His will is to love us and reconcile us to Him, so He changes us.

Jesus died on the cross to make it possible for me to change. Without Him, I would be hopeless to find my way to God. I would be wandering from idol to idol and making promises I cannot keep. My works would fail to cover my endless failures, no calf is perfect enough to fix the fix I’ve created. But the perfect blood of Jesus, shed instead of mine, healed me and gives me endless new beginnings. Christ’s saving grace has the power to shape my heart to God’s.

“Behold, days are coming,” declares the LORD, “when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and with the house of Judah. Jeremiah 31:31

One of my favorite things about walking in the park each and every day was witnessing the ebb and flow of God’s creation. From calm, composed moss to suddenly surfacing groundhogs, every hushed moment in nature is a bold, holy moment, the divine ethereal made visible in the pulse of a frog

The path to the pond dripped with the night’s rain but I wanted to rest atop the piled tree roots near the water. I like to talk to God from that place.  I like to skim my prayers out over the water and see where He takes them.  When I rose again from my hidden spot, I caught a glimpse of a goose laying silent and still in hers. Her long neck curved under a wing and her awkward, lifeless posture swelled with breath when she heard me. I lingered to watch her warming her eggs, unflappable in her duty.  Days later I would peek again to find one abandoned egg among the broken pieces of those who waddled away with mother.

Death and failure litter the banks of this mankind’s great season here on earth, but God is sovereign and His way is life. God’s plan endures; He remains, eternally, and He has given me everlasting life with Him. Not a season but an eternity, not a possibility but a promise.

Fruit trees of all kinds will grow on both banks of the river. Their leaves will not wither, nor will their fruit fail. Every month they will bear fruit, because the water from the sanctuary flows to them. Their fruit will serve for food and their leaves for healing.”  Ezekiel 47:12

I used to think it was noble to suffer fools. It was my self-appointed job to bring balance to foolishness by applying a warm poultice of patience to the madness. I might even lend an ear to maligning words, if I deemed it worthy in some commiserative way.  I was the fool. These waters have been difficult for me to navigate. It is true that God calls me to love and endure, but He will never ask me to abandon His way or go astray. Nor should I nod in agreement when someone else does.

Proverbs 16:17 says The highway of the upright avoids evil; he who guards his way guards his life. He who guards his way guards his life. Powerful. It saddens me to think of the decades I lived before I learned to employ that simple directive. Jesus is the Way, He has given me life. I have no other course. My aim is to walk His path and deepen my faith and conviction, even as the veering world beckons.

Knowing Jesus makes navigating the waters less confusing. With the Holy Spirit’s guidance my heart can “go out” to someone and remain steadfastly and surely at His side, abiding in His ways, not my own, serving others in the name of Jesus, not in the name of Jennie. Loving another never means allowing them to desecrate my good sensibilities. To love sometimes means I walk on by.

Stay away from foolish people; they have nothing to teach you.                       Proverbs 14:7

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