Back to Work

About mid-July, I decided that I needed to put my guitar down for a while. Hours of practicing at a time, caused a sharp pain in my left wrist. Being a retired ballet dancer, I knew that "pushing past the pain" was a part of the strengthening process. Muscles are being built, tendons expand, flexibility increased. But just like in my toe twinkling years, I could tell the difference between sore muscles and an injury.

It was really hard to put my new friend down at first. I had been used to a routine, and I longed to sit and strum. But as life went on, the busyness has very easily cut into our "quality time". It's been a good month and a half, my wrist is all healed up - and frankly, it's time to get back to work.

It has been "time" for about three weeks. I have tried to pick Daisey up, strumming a few familiar melodies, remembering the love affair that began in January. I love everything about my guitar, the smell of the wood and lacquer, the clear sound of her strings . . . the way she feels in my arms (okay, this is getting a little bit on the weird side) . . . don't worry, I haven't tried to kiss her or anything.

So what is keeping me from getting back to work? Is it laziness? Boredom? Stubbornness? Maybe all of the above. In order for me to play music, I need to spend time with Daisey. Practice requires discipline, stamina, the acceptance of pain, and the possibility of failure. And, an important one I'd like to add . . . knowing when it's time to quit.

Sometimes relationships (with someone other than a musical instrument) can seem just as insurmountable. You like spending time with somebody, but it almost seems like more work than it's worth. Building that relationship is uncomfortable, it requires a conscious effort on your part. Then there is always that possibility of rejection. Pain couples deep feelings of affection, and sometimes it seems like throwing in the towel would be best.

God brings people into our lives for a reason. Every relationship opportunity can be a divine appointment - God wants to tune your strings to the melody of His heart. He will often times use the difficult people to smooth away our rough edges and to get to the heart of what love really means.

So what about you? Will you throw in the towel, or will you give God the chance to build and strengthen you in maturity? Who is God wanting you to love? Yes, the pursuit is risky . . . there are really no guarantees.

But the music . . . God has got the most incredible piece of music that He wants you to play through you. And the relationships (the instruments) God uses, just might be what gets you where you long to be.

I declare this day - the first of September, a day to get back to work.

Won't you join me?

Honker

Each morning just before the sun rises, there is an interesting sound echoing down the hall from Matthew's bedroom. A melody, some might say, joining with the morning birds and the rushing of our pool filter.

Loud blasts of trumpet sounding booms awaken every man, woman and beast . . . breaking the silence of night. Matthew, mind you, is no musician. He tried his hand at the snare drum last year, but it didn't stick. You won't find a trombone or trumpet anywhere around. So where is this noise coming from?

Following a trail of soiled Kleenex would be a good indication. My eldest son greets every morning with a few blows of his honker. And everyone whose ears it falls on knows about it.

Poor kid, he has suffered with allergies since we moved to the valley. Some seasons are worse than others. I really feel for the guy - allergies can be miserable. Often times, I and will send him to school on Claritan to try and alleviate the symptoms. For all of those allergy sufferers out there, I send my sympathy.

A little later on this morning, another kind of honker got my attention as I was dropping my little maestro off. The car in the lane next to me (which happened to be the left turn lane) was not paying attention to the green signal light. So the car behind him very gently tapped his horn. It was just enough to bring the driver back to the moment, and off they drove.

I got to thinking about car horns, and how every car on the road has one. It seemed odd to me in that moment, kind of like when you say a word over and over again until it sounds foreign. It was that same kind of thing. For a brief second, I was flabbergasted by the car horn.

Car horns - they aren't really thought of much unless we need to use them. People don't generally drive down the road, leaning on their horn. A honker of this magnitude is only used when needing to send a warning, vent frustration or to celebrate. Every driver on the road has been given the voice of a trumpet sounding blast. How he chooses to use it . . . that varies I guess.

So how will I tie all of this into a spiritual application? What about bringing in God's immovable trumpet sound into the picture? Many times in the Bible when a trumpet sounds, it indicates that something is about to happen. When a honker from heaven sounds, it is a good indication of something. Either walls are about to fall, or God's judgment is about to be carried out. And my favorite is a prophetic noise - the blast of all blasts, indicating that it's time to go home.

What do Matthew's blasts predict is going to happen? Are the walls about to fall down? (Sometimes I wonder.) Is God's judgment pending the Kleenex trail? Does it mean that time has reached its end? No . . . we haven't experienced a morning that dramatic thus far.

But what my boy's unforgettable honker does usher in - is the beauty of a brand new day.

In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the [sound of the] last trumpet call. For a trumpet will sound, and the dead [in Christ] will be raised imperishable (free and immune from decay), and we shall be changed (transformed). ~ 1 Corinthians 15:52

Relationship

Life can sometimes seem lonely - even in a crowded room. We go from one conversation to the next, usually talking about surface kinds of stuff, when deep down inside we all desire to be known. And not just to be known . . . but to be loved.

God has blessed me with a wonderful husband, three great kids, extended family that I share a close bond with . . . friends, acquaintances . . . the list goes on. Even my dog Ginger is someone I enjoy interacting with throughout the day. My scratch on her ear triggers the wag of her tail. And that is truly communication at it's best.

When I'm sitting with my dog, there are no words needed. Words are a great vehicle for communication, but a lot of times they can stir the pot and scramble interpretation. Ginger and I? We enjoy a simple and natural exchange. I love her, and she loves me. We like spending time together. Isn't it true? The quietest moments can sometimes be the most connective.

Being married for thirteen years, I find a great amount of comfort in those times when Mark and can just sit and be quiet. Neither one of us are talkers really, so we never feel any need to fill in the "awkward" silence - because it's not awkward. With three kids, silence is bliss. Just enjoying the same space speaks volumes.

There is a level of comfort and familiarity when I am with Mark. He knows me (and all of the gobbledygook that makes up what's inside), and I know he is not going anywhere. There is an element of stability and freedom in that.

God is teaching me so much about love lately. I am learning that it is the opposite of fear, and that it can move mountains and change hearts. I'm also finding that love is not a gooey feeling - love is a choice. It is an uncompromising commitment to stay - in marriage, friendship, ministry . . . whether you are having a good or a bad day, and whether you feel like talking about it or not.

So how about you? Who do you feel comfortable just sharing space with? Is it your spouse, your child . . . what about God? How does communication work between the two of you? Are you quiet enough to listen to the Creator of all the Universe, or do you find yourself butting in when He is trying to speak?

I read a quote this morning from Oswald Chambers, and it nearly took my breath away.

"All that our Lord gives attention to in a person's life is that person's relationship with God."

God never takes into consideration how much money a person makes (or gives), or how much time a person volunteers to serve. He in not interested in how eloquent a person's speech or the countenance he or she carries. The truth is, there is really nothing "outward" God takes note of. He is concerned about what's going on inside. Relationship is what God is after.

I want to be known by God - I want to be loved by Him. And more than anything else, my heart longs to hear the silent certainty of . . . "well done."

Hugging Adversity

As I have stepped into the ministry and school year, I have made mention a few times about feeling overwhelmed. Well, I am having one of those days today. So instead of dropping Makayla off and tackling my to-do list right away, I decided to spend some quiet time alone with God.

I began pouring out my heart to Him with all of the thoughts and insecurities that He already knows about. There is something so remarkable about being able to "get it all out" in prayer, and knowing that His presence alone is enough of a response.

Underneath all of the high demands, fierce deadlines and unrealistic expectations . . . I find the heart of why I struggle today. It really doesn't have anything to do with the things I need to get checked off my list, or even the emotions that I can never seems to tidy up. The core of my wrestling today, has to do with a lion.

I've had the privilege of reading, along with some of the staff, a book called, "In a Pit with a Lion on a Snowy Day." God is really using it to get my attention. Every time I pick it up, the fears that torment me seem exaggerated through this all too familiar character Benaiah. Basically, he could be labeled as some crazy guy who decides to jump into a snowy pit with a lion. Hmmm . . . now that sounds a little too close to home for me. I put it down for a while, ponder his heroics, and then pick it up again for another blow.

As I sat with God today, I began to realize that one of the reasons I feel so scattered, is because I have no sense of control. The lion staring me dead in the face is called "uncertainty" - and according to this book I am supposed to embrace it.

Being a word nut, I decided to look up the word embrace, and the word uncertainty. This is what I came up with . . .

embrace: hug, hold, cuddle, squeeze, clinch, grip make use of, adopt, comprise

uncertainty: doubt, indecision, hesitation, vagueness, ambiguity, insecurity

Okay, let me get this straight. I am supposed to cuddle with indecision and insecurity? That doesn't sound right . . . I have been called to walk in faith. Then a though of Benaiah flashed in my head, and I realized - God has given me a choice.

Doubt, indecision, insecurities . . . those are inevitable when you are stepping out to answer God's call. They are the enemy's greatest weapons. Now I really don't think God wants me to invite these guys in for a soda. But what I do see, is that God does not want me to ignore them either.

It would seem much easier to just pretend they aren't there, and to muscle up enough of my own strength to press on. But I see in Benaiah's example that God doesn't want me to tuck my tail between my legs and run . . . God's solution is to embrace "the reality" of the problem, and to deal with it.

Yes, I stand in a very uncertain season . . . my life could take a new direction at a moment's notice and I have no control over that. I cannot foresee nor control the responses of other people . . . and I have no way of knowing what tomorrow will bring.

But what I do have, is the Sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God - to lunge at this lion with. What choice will I make? Will I duck and cover, cowering beneath the weight? Or will I stare back, with the determination of Benaiah?

The odds might not be looking so good on the outside - and a times I know I look like a crazy woman.

But deep down inside, lives the heart of a warrior.

Garbage Eve

When I was growing up, we used to call the night before the garbage man came "Garbage Eve". I forgot all about that until I was with my Dad this weekend. He saw some stray garbage cans on our street, and said "Oh, it must be Garbage Eve."

Mark's response was something like, "No, Garbage Eve for us is on Tuesday nights. We just have some neighbors who like to celebrate all week long."

Garbage Eve . . . this gives you a taste of my family's sense of humor. There were so many other quirky things my Dad came up with through the years. He can be such a goofball.

From the invention of the Fritznickle (french bread toasted with melted cheese and a dash of garlic powder), to the goat head that hung in our living room - yes, I said goat head. My Dad's outdoor hobbies and obsession with snacks always made being home interesting. Growing up, I always knew that we marched to the beat of a different drum. But honestly, who doesn't?

I wonder what spiritual analogy God will have me pull out of that one. Maybe just the fact that I get so much joy out of those haphazard memories. As quirky as they are, they are the bits and pieces of what make up who I am today.

Now I will not go as far as to say that I am still broken, lost, full of anger and emptiness. All of that "garbage" has been shed, due to the blood of Christ. But playing with home-made water guns and eating dried fruit until I was sick - all of that good stuff will stick.

So in your own quirkiness . . . what are you celebrating "The Eve" of tonight?

Life is to be celebrated.

Sinner's Prayer

God just about blew my socks off a few minutes ago - and that is really saying a lot, considering the fact that I am not wearing any socks. Stay with me here . . .

Just the other day, the Harvest Crusade got me thinking about my family members, and my desire to see them all saved. My thoughts landed on Makayla, the only one of my children who had not "asked Jesus into her heart".

I reminisced about the boys, Matthew and Michael, and their early decision to follow Christ. Matthew was around four, and a prayer at home on his bed confirmed a decision he had made at church that night. Then Michael, also about four years old, decided as he was tucked into bed that it was time to ask God to come live inside.

So just the other day, I sent a silent prayer up to God, asking that my baby girl make the decision for herself too - without my pushing. I wondered, what if she waits until she is ten . . . sixteen . . . what if she decides this whole "faith" thing isn't for her? My prayer was surrendered, and it held a promise that I wouldn't intrude. I would just wait on God, and let it happen naturally - just like it did with the boys.

Well, as I was typing an email just a few minutes ago - Makayla and Michael were in the bathroom, just finishing up with their baths. Makayla, already dressed, was brushing her hair while Michael forced dry clothes onto a wet body (little boys don't dry off very well).

As usual, they were carrying on a conversation - their talking never stops. I was trying to drown out the noise so that I could concentrate on the email I was composing . . . until, I heard the sweetest words fall from Michael's mouth. It was as if every other noise was silenced. I could no longer hear the tap of the keyboard or the sound of water going down the drain. No, these words hushed all of heaven and earth. And I stood at attention.

"Do you believe that Jesus died on the cross?" Michael questioned.

The voice trailed down the hall, piercing my heart. I tiptoed toward the voices, stopping just before they could see me. I watched from the reflection in the mirror.

"Do you want Jesus to forgive you for your sins? Then you need to ask Him to."

Makayla promptly responded.

"Then you just ask Jesus to come into your heart."

I stood there, dumbfounded, as I watched my daughter pray the sinner's prayer while gazing into the mirror at herself. When she saw me watching, she got embarrassed, and hid her face in her hands.

I stepped into the bathroom, with tears pouring down. I took my little girl's face in my hands, and I said, "Do you know what you have just done? You have just made the best decision you will ever make . . . and your big brother helped you."

I turned to Michael, "Michael, do you have any idea what you have just done?"

He turned shyly and said, "What Mom?"

I told the two of them to stop, and take notice. I wanted them to remember this moment, and everything about it. I grabbed my camera, and took a few snapshots. Time seemed to stand still. Everything else looked the same - but holy moment, a wonderful exchange had just taken place amidst the wet towels and dirty clothes.

Folks, we serve an amazing God, who absolutely positively answers prayer. Lately, I have become more convinced than ever. TALK TO GOD, HE HEARS YOU.

Be ready . . . the God of the Universe will use the most humble and unexpected circumstances to reveal His sweetness to you.

Just look at Jesus.

Royalty

I almost forgot to post today . . . we had a very eventful day - and I almost forgot to post! This is the first time (and I am sure it's not the last) that this has ever happened.

Just a few moments ago, I was cuddled in bed - with my favorite blankie and stuffed dog (you think I'm kidding). My mind began to comb through places we've been and people we've seen today. And suddenly, I sat straight up - realizing that I forgot to post.

Call it anal, crazy, nutty or over the top - but this personality will deny the cushion of my pillow to reach any goal. I tend to go a little bit overboard when I make a commitment to myself. I haven't mentioned my wrist injury yet . . . from practicing too long on my guitar. That will be another day's post.

My need to keep the rhythm going probably goes way past what one would call discipline. I don't know if you could say that all of this is a good or a bad thing. One thing I can say is, that good or bad - this is me.

I have committed myself to a post per day, and by golly - I'm going to rip myself out of my warm covers to meet it. There is so much I'd like to share about my day. God met me in hundreds of tiny little ways, confirming what He spoke to me during my quiet time this morning.

It sounded something like this . . . "What I have called you to accomplish for my Kingdom you could not do in your old skin. You are not the same person anymore. Today, you are royalty . . . and it's time you started really believing that."

From Pastor Dave's message (which was phenomenal by the way), to bowling a few strikes at Jake's Birthday party this afternoon, to the heartfelt worship of Mercy Me - I kept hearing that same concept. "Royalty - it's okay, believe it . . . it really is true."

A daughter to the King . . . yes, this is who I am.

I may not be a princess awaiting prince charming - for my prince has already shown up. I am not swept away by pumpkin coaches and glass slippers - what you can see doesn't do it for me anymore. And you might not find me being bothered so much by a pea under a stack of mattresses.

But forgetting to post, will rip this royal highness right out of her sheets.