Kiwi

Rarely would such a friend be found in a feline, but with her funny antics and my melancholy heart, we were a great match. I'm not sure what I loved most, her playful or her serious side. Both sides of her personality strangely completed my own.

It seems like yesterday, the moment my arms held her malnourished frame. She was just a kitten. Large green eyes overpowered her tiny face. Ears like satellites balanced on black fur.

"Please Mom, can we keep her?" I pleaded. "I will take good care of her; she is so cute, please?"

I don't remember much about what happened next, but I must have sounded pretty convincing. Our friendship began with a good bath and a cozy spot on my twin size bed. There were many nights of cuddles and playing. Her purring always brought comfort as I contemplated life and its meaning.

There were never words spoken, after all she was a cat, but deep and meaningful communication transpired as she looked me in the eye. It was like she was looking into my soul, as I peeked into hers. We enjoyed each other's company. Things were simple - words could not clutter things up for us. She was a constant unchanging presence in my life through so many unexpected twists and turns.

Through the years she had become a great companion. So much more like a dog than a cat, Kiwi would fetch things and follow me around the house. Indoors struck her fancy, minus a bird or two that would tease her through the window. She was wise and graceful, seeming to enjoy the simplicity of a good nap. Never wasting a moment, Kiwi loved to take it all in.

To my surprise, Kiwi would become the icon of my adolescence. Making her first appearance my freshman year of high school, she hung around through graduation. Years later she became the house pet after saying "I do" and would eventually take a back seat to the birth of our three children. To my amazement, that cat lived twenty years!

On her dying day I tried my best to be the kind of friend she had always been to me. Carefully placing her in her favorite spot on the couch, I gently stroked her head and starred into those deep green eyes. The medicine was administered, and in a moment she was gone. Through countless tears I felt as if my best friend had just died. In many ways, she had.

My beautiful friend and I communicated deeply, from the heart. Her appearance all of those years ago brought laughter, tears and true significance to a young girl who desperately needed to be seen.

Slow Down

In case you're wondering who this character is . . . this is a picture of me - minus the bathrobe and bedroom slippers. As I recover from surgery, you won't find this cat making any fast moves. As a matter of fact, turning around too quickly sends my equilibrium south and my knees over a fault line. Pathetic, I know - but this is my reality for the moment.

Going back to the story of the tortoise and the hare, if you think about it, a tortoise would have a much better view of the scenery than the hare. Now I know that the hare and his spectacular speed gives him a much better chance of winning the race -- but when it comes to the Kingdom race, things are judged differently. God is not so interested in who gets there first, the trick is to finish well.

Finishing well for me means striving to walk in integrity. For example, finishing projects I said I would complete. This includes anything from conquering a good read to nurturing a dear friendship. So much of life waits for my attention - but I have to slow down in order to take notice. Ever been there? You're couch bound for a short time due to illness or injury, and while putting your feet up, you begin to notice so much more than your need for a pedicure?

Seasons where I'm forced to slow down can be so rich and sweet. Lessons that I normally would miss out on, are brought brightly into view. Aside from fatigue that makes me feel like a 98 year old woman, I am really enjoying this break. Slowing down is giving me the opportunity to really scope out the details of God's amazing presence. He's here . . . he's there . . . He's everywhere -- and He longs for us to notice.

Take heed and learn from our slothful friend the tortoise. Slow Down. Smell those roses. Learn from his careful technique - he runs not haphazardly, but with a purpose.

God is never in a hurry - should we be?

A Memoir

A remarkable woman -- with a miraculous story. A day or two ago, I turned the last page of a book that has become a favorite of mine through the years. "The God I Love," by Joni Eareckson Tada. Her lifetime of walking with Jesus has ignited something special for me -- a true trust in God, regardless of what life dishes out. She is real woman with real problems, who writes about a real God.

From stories of childhood bliss, to the awkwardness of adolescence, this memoir paints a glorious picture of God's faithfulness through the ups and downs of an unexpected turn. While this diving accident leaves Joni paralyzed from the waist down, God's healing still manages to sneak up on her -- changing the course of history for those who are crippled in body and heart.

If you find yourself stuck in the "Whys?" of life, I encourage you to stake out that favorite spot on the couch and curl up with this masterpiece. Through this woman's amazing story . . . every "Why" that has ever stared you dead in the face will melt through the fingers of the One who holds it all.

There is something so amazing that happens when we share our stories. A kinship is woven together, tying hearts together at the Source. Jesus Christ has proven to be absolutely faithful to Joni, not in spite of a wheelchair, but because of one. Amazing.

This poetic rendition of walking with God has made me want to know Joni's God more. He is seen in the starry hosts, found crashing on the waves of the sea . . . reflected in the soul of a horse . . . and He even transforms something as cumbersome as a wheelchair into a joy ride.

Joni's honest (and at times raw) portrait has succeeded in drawing me closer to Him. I recommend this book to anybody who dares to believe that there is life, abundant life, after something as devastating as paralysis.

God never wastes a hurt.

Sweetly New

Taking a glance back can be very eye opening. Some months ago I dug into some of my old journals. I was amazed at what I found. At the time I was feeling a little bit lost - like I had somehow lost my faith footing. But after seeing that my God and I had spent the past decade walking hand and hand, through the thick and thin, somehow my faith in "faith" became new again.

Post surgery has provided me with a lot of time on my hands, and it's been nice. I could do without feeling like I've been hit by a truck . . . or maybe a boy on a bicycle . . . but the couch provides me with lots of time to think. I have a very introspective personality, and when I don't take time to simply think, I tend to run on empty. God has proven to be in the details, and without adequate think-time it is easy for me to miss little miracles.

"Finish what you've started." The phrase began to follow me around like fatigue - from room to room. Walking in integrity . . . yes, that is what it means to be Christ's ambassador. Integrity takes on many faces, but what it all boils down to is this. Walk the talk. Do what you said you were going to do. Finish what you've started. With this nudge, I see that it is time to tackle a stack of books half-read, and a writing project (that I won't make any mention of) . . . the list could go on.

What have you started that you've failed to finish? If you are anything like me, there is a long list of half-dones strangling the life out of you. Do you have a short attention span too, jumping from one project to another without finding completion in a single one? Through the years, God has taught me that it is in the effort, in the working when you don't "feel like it" that character is built.

Well, I'm off to finish a book I started just the other day. After that, I will tackle the rest of the stack, knowing that each one holds something God wants to teach me. Some of God's greatest lessons have to be learned over and over again. I am always so amazed at how sweetly NEW He manages to make each one.

Deep Waters

HE PULLED ME UP OUT OF DEEP WATERS . . . once again. It has been a week and a day since my surgery. The pain isn't too bothersome, but fatigue still lingers.

There is so much to see when you're forced to slow down. Life is glorious! What a wonderful reminder to stop and take notice. Lessons . . . they are all around us.

I find myself fighting the couch, despising the gravity that seems to pull me there. My personality never allows me to just sit. There is always something calling to me, some distraction needing my attention. Something to fold here, a corner to straighten there - all to the demise of a true introspection. I've gotten so used to keeping my own self at bay, that I've forgotten how to tap into that girl within.

I sense a new season beginning, carrying me to uncharted waters. Part of me stirs with excitement, while the rest grumbles underneath the comfort of sameness. God saved me from terrible torrent, not once but twice. There is a reason I am still here . . . what are God's plans for me? How will He use me to glorify Him?

For the next few weeks, as I work to strengthen muscles that have gone on vacation, I will nestle in close to the One who always knows best. This is a wonderful opportunity to regroup and reflect. "God grant me the clarity of heart and mind I need to move forward."

My God rescues me -- every second of my life. As I embark on this brand new adventure, I desire to spend the rest of my waking moments . . . declaring just how.

Cowboy Spurs

Today I remember a little blondie, who could always be found cowboyed up from head to toe. He had the brightest blue eyes, and could be spotted sporting a Kool-Aid moustache smile. Our Clay - he would have been eleven years old today. Seems strange, almost like time should have somehow stood still. In many ways, it has.

Our family will gather together in celebration today, with pizza, Sunny-D and mint chip ice cream. Those were Clay's favorites. The hearts who knew and loved Clay best will pause, if only for a moment, and remember what it was like when the world still seemed safe. There was a time when something as awful as losing a child was what happened to other people. Not us.

We love you Clay, today and always. Our balloons will rise as a tribute. Your life mattered to us, and it always will. We choose to still believe in miracles, knowing that healing meant heaven for you.

This day we lift our eyes to the sky, trusting that the blue balloon will in fact reach heaven . . . bursting only with the touch of a cowboy's spurs.

Ties That Bind

I wasn't going to post today . . . I have much to tell, but my comfortable bed is calling. Inspiration cried out and beat tiredness, as my heart welled with a gratefulness for the God-sized connections that have been created in the blog world.

Checking in on friends this afternoon, not through a meeting at Starbucks nor a walk through the park. I would venture to say that I never dropped a greeting card, nor did I pick up the phone. But as my eyes fell on fresh posts, I joined with friends in a deep and meaningful way - feeling connected and a part of something so much bigger than myself.

Sure, this blogging thing might prove to be just another trend - here today, gone tomorrow. But what this girl discovered through a click here and another there, is a peek into the life of somebody else who has witnessed God.

Whether through the tells of a vacation, or an update of the latest family fury - God's presence is so powerfully magnified when we tell our stories. Fellow bloggers . . . keep telling, be vulnerable, stay real and record what you can see.

For it is in the twinkling moments of life that God is witnessed. And every account recorded brings hope to all who see.