Category: More Slices of Life

Dark Days

melianewbornhandIn the wake of the breaking news stories in the last couple of days, it’s hard to fathom the depths of evil consuming our nation. The enormity of this may well be underestimated, and the trail of money on a spiraling street paved with innocent blood may well be staggeringly more than can possibly be imagined.

quotebeginIt is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.
Hebrews 10.31

Surely judgement has come on America when a nation will slaughter its own babies for great profit under the guise of research.  When immorality is lauded and God’s Word is ignored, when His marvelous design is discarded and when men and women turn their backs on Providence,  and when human life is of less value than plants and animals: we have sunk to such pervasive and widespread depravity such as has never before been experienced in this nation.

quotebeginTake heed, brethren, lest there be in any of you an evil heart of unbelief, in departing from the living God.
Hebrews 3.12

I pray for women who have been duped into despair, for the unborn babies whose lives have been taken from them by the persuasive lies of the powerful, relentless, evil abortion industry — Planned Parenthood, in particular. I pray for the men and women who’ve succumbed to and believed the lies and conscience numbing propaganda of Planned Parenthood, et al.  And I pray for those whose eyes have been opened, hearts have been broken by painfully and sorrowfully regretted abortions.

I pray for those who are (still)  under the grave delusion that there is nothing wrong with abortion or, worse, that it’s simply a personal choice – that that personal choice is right and the decision is theirs alone to make – that it’s nobody’s business what a woman decides to do with her body baby.   It’s a business.  A huge, powerful, relentless, profitable,  machine.  You think you’re being cared for — but that’s a lie.  The abortion industry is a lucrative killing machine that cares nothing for women but must perpetuate the lie of compassion so that women will continue to clamour for their right to abortion.  That abortion is compassionate is a lie. Period.  That abortion is harmless is a lie.  Period. That abortion is a private matter is a lie.   Period.  Those lies are the devil’s lies.  he hates God and he hates life and seeks only to kill and destroy.  That is the Truth… In the Lord is life… Life for all who will come to Him and call upon His name.  He will hear, He will answer and He will save all who call upon the Name of the Lord.

[cp_dropcaps] O[/cp_dropcaps] LORD, thou hast searched me, and known me.  2  Thou knowest my downsitting and mine uprising, thou understandest my thought afar off. 3  Thou compassest my path and my lying down, and art acquainted with all my ways. 4  For there is not a word in my tongue, but, lo, O LORD, thou knowest it altogether.  5 Thou hast beset me behind and before, and laid thine hand upon me. 6  Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high, I cannot attain unto it. 7  Whither shall I go from thy spirit? or whither shall I flee from thy presence? 8  If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there. 9  If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea; 10  Even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me. 11  If I say, Surely the darkness shall cover me; even the night shall be light about me. 12  Yea, the darkness hideth not from thee; but the night shineth as the day: the darkness and the light are both alike to thee. 13  For thou hast possessed my reins: thou hast covered me in my mother’s womb. 14  I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvellous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well.  15  My substance was not hid from thee, when I was made in secret, and curiously wrought in the lowest parts of the earth.  16  Thine eyes did see my substance, yet being unperfect; and in thy book all my members were written, which in continuance were fashioned, when as yet there was none of them. 17  How precious also are thy thoughts unto me, O God! how great is the sum of them! 18  If I should count them, they are more in number than the sand: when I awake, I am still with thee. 19  Surely thou wilt slay the wicked, O God: depart from me therefore, ye bloody men. 20  For they speak against thee wickedly, and thine enemies take thy name in vain. 21  Do not I hate them, O LORD, that hate thee? and am not I grieved with those that rise up against thee? 22  I hate them with perfect hatred: I count them mine enemies. 23  Search me, O God, and know my heart: try me, and know my thoughts: 24  And see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.” —psalm 139

May God heal our land and save this nation.

Tiny Houses

tinyhousepamelaspurlingHave you ever imagined your life as something completely different than it is today?  I don’t mean doing different things or changing jobs or whatever — I mean, living in a home that is a completely different type of home than you’ve been accustomed to living in all your life.

Tiny houses.

I’d never thought about living in a tiny house — not me personally, anyway.  I’ve thought about what it might be like for someone to live in a tiny house — I mean, I do love browsing Pinterest, you know. But lots of what I see, and pin, on Pinterest is simply pin interest — ideas that seem pretty cool — and, yes, sincere dream interests.   Since my husband has taken up an interest in exploring types of homes people might construct or styles that might be added to existing homes, I’ve seen lots of images of tiny houses and have listened to the different ideas for small homes –tiny houses– and clusters of tiny houses.  I haven’t wished it, but I’ve wondered what it would be like to live in a tiny house.

My husband had a little “getaway” planned a couple of days ago… yes, he once again completely surprised me with another unusual idea. I wonder if he will ever run out surprises.

As we drove he mentioned he didn’t exactly have an address for what he was looking for and so I actually assumed it was a pool job we were stopping to check on and that we’d soon continue on to the place we’d be staying.  But, then he turned down a lane and said, yes, this must be it.  Soon we were walking up to the tiny house that would be “our place” for a couple of days.  I didn’t realize that I’d be testing out what it would be like to live in a tiny house.  I’ve learned to adapt to all sorts of things in my life and so, through the evening I imagined all sorts of scenarios of what it would be like to actually live in a tiny house.  And it soon became very obvious to me (and to Wes) that we aren’t tiny house people.  Don’t get me wrong — it’s a very enjoyable experience, it just became obvious that logistically, for us, it wouldn’t be good in the long term.  And it’s totally unrealistic.

But… it’s a cool experiment.  And it would be such a cool thing to have as a part of a property or house — someplace to go, someplace for guests or family to stay, someplace to have an office or a studio.  So, the tiny house idea is not totally off the table, it’s just not on the drawing board.

Which brings me to why I wanted to take a moment to write about this experience.  More than simply a delightful time together, it’s been so instructive. I’ve seen it as a marvelous exercise in defining what we really like/need/want in a home.  That, and I’ve seen very clearly that a home really tells us a lot about ourselves and what’s important to us and what’s not.  I don’t mean the stuff necessarily, but the home and what it’s used for.  A tiny house isn’t a family home.  It’s not a gathering place and it’s not an industry or hospitality center.  That’s pretty important to realize if you’re considering a dramatic life change or lifestyle change.

And if you’re not real clear on what you wish for in life or what you might be able to do or not do, then I see a great advantage of going to the sort of place you’re imagining and spend a couple of days there and get a feel for it.  All that, as well as try to imagine all your favourite activities or traditions or whatever in that location.  Would they work there?  Would they fit there?  Would they even be possible there?  What would you necessarily have to give up were you to change your life?  What would you have to leave behind or stop doing?  What would you have to say “no” to?

An easier way might just be to ask yourself what’s important to you today.   What have you been imagining? And then you might ask yourself for today or in the future, how do you see your home being used or what’s important in a home or in a life or in a location.  Once you define those things, you might find that you don’t really want a different life after all and that when all is said and done, you really are living the life you want but you simply have some housekeeping to do or some reorganizing to do.  Downsizing may simply mean decluttering your home, your belongings, your schedule, your budget and/or your thoughts.

And if you ever thought you wanted to live in a tiny house, I’d suggest that you spend a couple of nights in one.   Here’s a tiny house. Pictures just don’t do justice to the amazing planning, craftsmanship and more — all neatly packed into about  8′  by 20 feet!!

More “Tiny House” ideas and plans here.

Yesterday & Tomorrow

Amelia june2015 Daniel june2015For the last fourteen years, I’ve had a day where I’ve stood between two days, looking back and looking ahead.  Today is that day.  Fourteen years ago when I looked back at that “yesterday” and ahead to that “tomorrow,” I didn’t know that I would come to call it my Bookends Day. I didn’t know at the time that a final chapter had been written… that the baby born on June 29th would be my last living baby. And when I looked ahead to “tomorrow” that day, I was amazed that my first baby would be twenty two.  Twenty two and expecting his first baby to be born just weeks later.

Very early this morning, the trucks were rolling down the lane and the chainsaws began to hum.  I knew this day was coming and I’d so dreaded it.  I cried at the thought of wrecking the very tree that drew me to this home. I stood in the yard today, watching several guys work for many hours cutting the trees.  Huge limbs from the giant weeping willow tree thudded to the ground in our side yard. In the end, they removed twenty feet from the tree’s height.  “Such a magnificent tree” one of the tree guys had commented.  Yes, I said, It’s the prettiest tree in the valley.

And now it’s not.  It’s a silly looking tree now.  But, you know, I sure am thankful tonight to still be able to see it—God in His mercy reminded me of His great provision several times today as I thought of my friends in Wenatchee who’ve been evacuated from their home due to severe wild fires.  For the first time ever, that willow tree was just a tree.  I needed it to be just a tree today.  On the Bookends Day.  I needed it to mark the end of a season.  I needed it to come to being just a tree. And I needed to be reminded that I have been so extremely fortunate, all these years, to sleep under the canopy of the prettiest tree in the valley.  If I never slept under it another day, I’d be no less fortunate.

In the middle of the day, our mail lady delivered letters and packages.  My husband handed me one of them and said it was a gift for me… perfume… the perfect gift for today… I’m so glad it had somehow been delayed in arriving.  Among the other packages in the mail today was another gift for me, only I didn’t know it at the time.  When our daughter came home, she brought me one of the packages and, in the marvelous timing of the Lord, the package contained a book — a book of photographs taken here a few weeks ago when all the family (and spouses and children) had gathered for an evening photography session. Page after page of pictures of the house and yard that built our family. It was so timely to receive that gift on this day, Bookends Day, the day between yesterday and tomorrow.

I marveled today that the cutting of the willow tree and several others, was yet another tangible display of the end of a season.  The trees will never be the same again.  This home will never be the same again, I thought.  I was thankful for the Lord to show me that and to make it so that I couldn’t wonder if the season had really come to a close or not.

It’s odd and it’s right that our oldest girls are moving to their own home and that this is their last night “at home.”  It’s odd and it’s right that this would happen on Bookends Day.  There are no coincidences, only Co-incidents.  Tears and laughter, joy and sorrow, each season is filled with these… and it’s odd and it’s right.

Labels and Names

coffecupI’m mulling over a Kelly Crawford “quiverfull” article I read yesterday.  It so resonated with me (as her writings often do) and brought to mind several related labels and names.  One thing that came to mind almost immediately is the number of times recently that I’ve wanted to distance myself from a particular word, practice, inference, organization, person, product, etc., etc., when any one of them failed or turned out to be different than  I thought or understood them to be — or when my personal definition or application of a particular word or practice didn’t/doesn’t line up with whatever the latest scandal portrays.   As in, say, quiverfull or large family or homeschooling or complementarian or Christian or a myriad of other buzzwords in the news.  Lots of times it’s not the words used, necessarily, but the way they’re used (and especially the inflection of voice in the way they’re spoken).

Immediately, I want to say (usually only in my head as I pull weeds in the garden), yes, but I’m not that kind of homeschooler, I’m not that kind of large family, I’m not that kind of mother, etc., etc.  I’m not in that kind of homeschool program or that kind of church or whatever.  Sometimes I have to add: well, not any more.

Sometimes my (or your)  “not any more” occurred long before the publication of a ‘bad report’ or a scandal.  I know that, and you know that, but maybe others don’t that. And I am (or you are) still assumed to be connected to/with or defined by a particular name or label.  And probably a misunderstood, misinformed idea and/or mischaracterization of that name or label.

So my thought here is that all these different media assertions, characterizations or biases are very instructive. First they instruct me to be very careful regarding my alignment with a particular personality or program.  Then I need to be careful what message I portray and how my actions affect or represent that message. Then I need to pay close attention to respectfully hear objections and discern the motive behind the messages.  Is the message really an attack on me?  Probably not, but is rather an attack because of a preconceived notion or because of a negative experience with whatever I seem to represent.  So then, should I take it personally?  Probably not. No.

So you have a bunch of kids.  Doesn’t make you The Dugger’s… ‘makes you a mom with a bunch of kids like a whole bunch of other moms with a bunch of kids and they aren’t The Dugger’s either.  So you homeschool and/or you only wear dresses and/or you dress modestly (or whatever other thing you do or don’t do, the best you know how).  Doesn’t make you Amish or ATI or Mennonite or part of a cult or whatever… ‘makes you just a woman who’s made some decisions that are different than some decisions others have made.  And you go on.  So you take a stand for Biblical, traditional marriage.  And you’re castigated for it.  You’re wrongly labeled as phobic or narrow minded or intolerant.  Think it not strange.  Their comments don’t make you any of those things… just continue on in faith, trusting the Lord to bring about His plans and purposes in all these things.  Sure, all these different misunderstandings are painful and difficult.  And, sure they’re inaccurate — but we are told in Scripture that in this world we will have tribulation.  But the big deal is that Jesus didn’t stop there — He went on to say that we are to be of good cheer.  And what is the basis of that cheer?  Jesus. He tells us that in Him we might have peace and that peace is because of who He is and who we are in Him and because He has overcome the world. (John 16.33) So, we can be overcomers.  That’s powerful. That’s Good News!

And you know how else all the mislabeling instructs me?  I’m instructed to be very careful how I might be mislabeling others, making wrong assumptions of others, mischaracterizing others.  I am reminded to be careful to not jump to conclusions about a matter based on a preconceived notion or experience (good or bad for that matter) and then have to back-peddle when more information becomes apparent.  I see more and more why we need to be in the Word, in prayer, and walking in faith.  And that’s where iron sharpening iron sorts of friendships also help us get and stay on track.

The First Seat on the Right Side of the Center Aisle

I wrote the following a few years after our firstborn son was married in 1998.  Thinking back on that day, reflecting on all that’s transpired and all that’s happening currently, I decided to get this out and reread it.  The same mama, similar feelings, better understanding… as plans are underway for another son who’ll marry next week.  I’m so thankful I’ve had a little more time and a few more experiences so this time is not so overwhelming (and, I don’t have a  2+ week old newborn this time).  But the emotions?  They’re very much the same.  And here you have another glimpse of my life — and maybe yours, too. Continue reading “The First Seat on the Right Side of the Center Aisle”

Savouring the Moments

The symphony of birds, buds and blossoms along with the soft greens seem to sing, Springtime’s here; another season’s underway!  With the passing of time, the Lord is teaching me to savour the moments, to watch for the signs of the seasons.  I can’t really recall if , or what, I’ve written much about the passage of a season that taught me this, but it was the slow dawning of the reality that the childbearing season was slipping away that first began to teach me to savour the moments.

I think I’ve told you how (early on) women–mothers–would tell me, “…it goes so fast: before you know it, they’ll be all grown up…” and to those comments I would nod in agreement… as if I understood.  And, I suppose, to a small degree, I did.  Actually, truth be told, I didn’t.  Not really.  And, further, I recognize that I still don’t really know the whole of it.  But what I am realizing this:  time really does seem to pass exponentially faster with each passing year.

On Saturday morning I received a text message on my cellphone.  Three simple words.  Tears filled my eyes as I read and reread those three little words.  Those three little words were packed with such hope and elated joy.  I pictured the smiling face of the one who sent me the text.  I pictured the thrill that must’ve gone into the typing of the three little words.  I closed my phone — savouring the moment and what the three little words would become.  The text read:  She said yes.

Several of us received the same text.  We knew this by the flood of texts that followed.  It’s just what happens in a big family, I guess.

As I savoured the moment, I was grinning with tear-filled eyes.  Standing there, looking out the window above the kitchen sink, I was thinking about that son’s little boy self and how he ran and played out in the yard, roller skated down the lane, did ‘canon-balls’ in the pool, shot things with his airsoft gun and found things to light on fire in the back yard.  As I lingered, I thought of the several years he’s loved this girl… I thought of the many times she’s stood right in the same place, washing dishes or having a cup of coffee or tea in the kitchen.  I thought of her little girl self… her adorable little girl self.  And then, her parents came to mind and suddenly it wasn’t just our boy and bright hopes for tomorrow — it was their daughter and all the memories of her little girl self and times gone by in her life and theirs… many savoured moments, I’m very sure.

Later, walking around our yard and then standing under the lacy green leaves hanging from the giant weeping willow tree, I looked up to see where the branch had broken off — the branch that had, until just recently, held the old tire-swing.  I knew one day that that branch would break and the tire-swing would inevitably have to be put away or maybe even possibly would be hung on from different branch… I just never thought it would be this soon.  I looked at the branch on the ground and the place where the rope had been nearly completely encircled by the bark of the branch where it had hung for so many decades — the process unnoticed, but further embedded with each passing season.  In the theater of my mind, I saw some of the childhood faces of the many, many seasons of the tire swinging from that tree.  Savoured moments.  More so, now.

The interesting thing about savoured moments is that at the time the moments don’t seem all the glorious.  I sometimes think that savoured moments become so — not because of their impact or influence at the time, but later.  Silly things, embarrassing things, surprising things,  simple things, everyday things.  Later on… down the road a bit… that’s when moments become meaningful and it’s those meaningful moments we savour.  Those simple, everyday, unremarkable (at the time) moments that somehow capture our hearts and become the stuff memories are made of — the moments we treasure — the moments we savour.

In the last couple of days I’ve had more time to reflect on those three little words… I’ve thought of the inevitable hardships, trials, heartaches ans sorrows they’ll necessarily face.   I’ve thought of the memories they’ll make, the home they’ll make together — the joys and laughter they’ll experience and the hopes and dreams they’ll share; and I marveled at the thought of the surprising ways of God they’ll surely encounter as He writes their story.  And so for all these things, I can only say, Praise the LORD and pray they’ll savour the moments that come with the passing seasons along the way.

 

Quintessential Motherhood

Throughout that week I wondered what the LORD would have me to write for that week’s letter.  And so, in an attempt to prepare a letter, I sat down to write.  Distractions, buzzers, timers, calls, the dryer’s beep-beep-beep, and the knocking at the back door… distractions.  And then I thought: distractions?  No: life.  Life is what’s happening when we’re waiting and planning for something else to happen.  And then I thought on this further and wondered: is this the story of my motherhood experience?  Has it all happened while I was waiting for something else to happen?  Have the days passed by while I was looking for a brighter tomorrow and a better way of doing things?   While hurry-scurrying around, gathering, sorting, washing, folding, packing… suddenly the time comes for a departure.

Suddenly the time-clock runs out and this game is over or the hour comes.  This is quintessential motherhood.

I came inside from the chilly porch where I hugged one of our sons and waved him good-bye-for-now.  As he drove away, the darkness giving way to light and the early morning sun casting a pink glow on the snow, tears flooded my eyes and instantly, all the compelling rush was completely forgotten in the haze of the exhaust and the taillights slowly dimming in the distance. I stood there in the cold-still waving… the asl sign for i-love-you… and found myself wondering—questioning what significant thing had I contributed to that remarkable boy’s life?  Was there anything noteworthy?  All at once  I thought of many things I’d forgotten to remember—things I suddenly realized I meant to say.  Memories instantly flooded my mind — sort of like those endearing slideshows you see at weddings — the emotionally gripping photos that chronicle lives and bring tears and laughter simultaneously one frame after another.

Part of the calling of motherhood is that there will be suffering.  There will be days of joy and sorrow.  Sort of that paradoxical truth that in every adversity there is triumph and in every joy there is an inextricable mix of delight and sorrow.  The sorrow part is the part we didn’t read in the fine print.  The sorrow part is one of the consequences of endearment –one of the consequences I didn’t perhaps expect when I first received the confirmation call from the doctor’s office or when we first saw the indicator lines in the home-pregnancy test kit.  No, in those days, we had no idea what lay ahead, what tears we’d shed or how many sleepless nights we’d spend waiting and walking.  Waiting for a child to return home or walking a crying baby from one end of the living room to the other: round and round.

No, in the early days, we had no idea what lay in store a few years down the road.  We had no grasp of where those first baby-steps would take those feet.  We had no concept that snow-tires would eventually replace those training wheels.  Even now, I probably have no real grasp of what the consequences of motherhood are.  Just as I can’t fathom the exhilaration of tremendous joy, I can’t fathom the plummeting sorrow—both are those inexplicable consequences of endearment and motherhood.

I’ve often said I wasn’t prepared for these years—the gripping anguish of regret and disappointment, the overwhelming joy proud moments bring and the unstoppable ticking of the clock and the turning of the calendar pages.  It seems new calendars are purchased more frequently now.  But in reality, nothing and everything prepared me for these days. The LORD has been with me, guiding, abiding and upholding me —preparing me for each of the next days He’d bring.  The preparation has been in the living. Bidding farewell to passing seasons and ushering in new ones prepares us for these goodbyes.

It’s quintessential motherhood: fully experiencing of all the seasons over and over. Experience, history… photographs and memories all prepare us for these goodbyes. As I look out at the morning glow on the snow… and then at the leafless, frost covered branches of my weeping willow tree, there’s sort of a melancholy hopeful looking forward to what this day will bring and how I’ll one day look back on this day.

I smile as I realize that with every good bye… there’s a welcome home.  In the end, the true joy is looking to the ultimate welcome home.

May you always be blessed.

a page of a letter

I’ve sure been thinking of the serendipity of finding the pages of that letter in the old desk — I shared about yesterday.  In addition to the great wisdom and blessing of the words of these two pages, the fact that they are only part of a longer letter is fascinating to me — fascinating and wonderful.  You know, another wonderful aspect to all this is that it sure blesses me and encourages me further regarding the integrity and depth of grandma’s character — that, and the quality of friends she had.

So, here’s a bit more from the letter.

…the saints are the tallest people on earth.  They have their feet on the ground but they have their heads in the heavenlies in Christ Jesus.  They have the touch of Eternity.”

Don’t settle into the words of a beautiful song of salvation and lost the music in your life, it’s the attraction to the Gospel.”

God does not think as we do about success and failure.  He measures it in the criteria of obedience, devotion, faithfulness and love.  He isn’t impresses by status, showmanship or parades of piety.  1 Cor. 3.6 St. Paul declared, “I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the increase.  Too often our attention is drawn to the planting and watering. More important is the gracious, thirsty crops revived. [this is where I began the quoting of excerpts of this letter in the previous post.]

O, I pray something I leave behind will bring as much joy, blessing and encouragement as what I’ve found in these two pages of an old letter — I’m sort of glad there’s no indication of who wrote it or when it was written. ♥

pages of a letter; for such a time as this.

This has been a most interesting year.   I wonder what I’ll think when I look back on this year — in years to come.  I wonder if the rough edges will seem smooth later on and I wonder if the smooth days will be remembered with even more fondness.  Hmmm.  It’s interesting to think of all this.    As I looked back at the very few posts over the last several months, I noticed I’ve been sort of stuck in a recurring theme: journaling, remembering, recording…  messages that will be left behind.

Tonight, cleaning in one of the bedrooms upstairs, the drawers of a very old desk were removed and papers were retrieved that had slipped behind the drawers and were stuck in the back of the old desk — obviously there for a very long time.  Envelopes, lists, a program and two pages of a letter.  I read some as I walked downstairs to my desk.  Here I have, left behind: a couple of random pages of a letter, a beautifully hand written letter.  Now, a little while later, I find myself wondering if the Lord had those loose pages stuck in there — tucked away — for just such a time as this?

I honestly believe that finding those pages was a little gift the Lord had tucked away for me — a sort of affirmation, encouragement and inspiration to press on here — to share different things He is doing, to offer ideas, hope and some encouragement along the way.

Whoever wrote this letter surely knew and loved the Lord.  O, not a casual love — nor a simple, intellectual understanding, but a deep abiding love.  What a gift that life must’ve been and surely is to me tonight.  I wonder, was it a letter to grandma?  Was it a letter from her?  No name — not even the complete letter — just a couple of pages of what must have been a lengthy letter.  I’ll share a few of the lines tonight and perhaps a few more tomorrow, you’ll see just how sweet it is to have sweet, lovingly written, encouraging words tucked away just for, yes: such a time as this.

Have you been thru a dry arid season in your spiritual growth? Is it hard to pray? Does the Bible have a dim meaning?  Dos it cease to feed you spiritually? How about the creepy crawlies of criticism the serpent of temptation that has defeated you and robbed you of the spiritual fruit of love, joy, peace and other delectable fruits of the Spirit?  There’s help for us.

I have been through a season of dryness where it was almost impossible to pray.  The heavens seemed to be brass and one thing after another happened to me until I felt forsaken, drifting in the doldrums going nowhere.  Then I was reminded of a statement:  When you’re in the doldrums and not a breath is stirring, do you sit in your little boat and allow it to remain in the hot sun and shrivel you?  No, a thousand times no.  Grab the oar of faith and the other oar of obedience and row for dear life out of there…”

Next time, I’ll share more of this letter – literally, a slice of life.

 

Vision

A dear friend recently wrote a letter regarding losing vision and had several thoughts regarding the danger of lacking vision, and the importance of having vision or purpose.  I’ve mulled that over.  And over.  I empathized and I actually sort of felt sick at the thought, the tragic thought of losing vision.

And then it struck me (but it wasn’t the first time) that I’ve lost vision.  If you’ve never “lost vision” before, then it’s probably hard to understand how someone could go along, have a great track to run on and then suddenly lose vision.  But it happens.  And if it’s happened to you, you understand. You totally understand.

I started losing vision a long time ago.  For some things — not for everything, for some things.
I got off track — or was rolling down what I see now was a sort of parallel track — thought I was going along fine.  But a parallel track that’s off by 1 degree soon is off by a gaping distance.  In the beginning it’s not so noticeable.  And, maybe for quite a while it’s not so noticeable… but down the way a bit — it’s very noticeable.  Usually to everyone except the one who’s in the car on the now-not-so-parallel track.

I’ve been very tempted to stop writing.  You know… listening to enemy’s voice: why do you write, you don’t have anything to say, you’re worthless, you don’t have any wise words and on and on.  I was tempted to stop accepting invitations to share with women in different venues.  And I did — I did stop altogether.  For a time.  And then I thought: wait a minute — everything I believed I still believe. Everything that was previously important is still important. I may have made a mess out of a lot of things.  I should have done so many things differently.  But I didn’t — and time went by. I’m thankful for the Lord’s great blessing of encouragement and re-creation!  By His grace, many — if not most — of the trials that I thought I’d never pass through have been redeemed and used for my good and His glory.  I wait on Him for finish the work He’s begun — for I know that I know He will complete the work.

Some of my experiences may seem like failures, or circumstances may have changed, but the Truths I stand on, the Truths that guide and inspire me have not changed.   I was tempted — have been tempted many, many times to drop commitments, drop the website, drop this blog, drop other writing projects and move on.  The website’s antiquated.  This blog’s out of date.  The many writing projects are unfinished.  The vision for all these things seemed lost.

The best thing about space and time is that perspective is gained in the passage of time and vision is gained from distance to an object.  For both, clarity is a great blessing.  My indecision has turned out to be a blessing  — I don’t really want to dump the website — it took twelve years to build — it can be redone, it can be redeemed.  And I don’t want to quit writing — I love to write.  I’ve been redeemed.  The Lord has given me a great opportunity. And I really don’t want to miss opportunities to share messages with sisters in the Lord — because He has given me so much.  He has turned my messes into messages.

So, now…
Some of the messages have become messes.
Some of the messes have become messages.

And thinking on this has given me a new vision.  The messages that have become messes?  I’ve decided not to just dismiss them entirely for they are part of who I am and where I’ve been, but I hope to turn them, by the grace of God, back in the messages.

So, now…
My new vision is to clean up some of the messes, give them new meaning.  Share some of the messages that have come from the messes and, again, by the grace of God, be a vessel He can use.  I might add, I’m sure thankful for the husband the Lord gave me — why the Lord blessed me so, I will never know but I’ll be forever grateful!  His insight, his perspective is a gift.  I know, we women tend to see things as all or nothing sometimes — and it takes a wise husband to point out the anchor is still holding… that the ship may be tossing or listing to one side or the other — but the Anchor holds.  The Anchor holds.

Only God can:
turn a MESS into a MESSAGE;
a TEST into a TESTIMONY;
a TRIAL into a TRIUMPH;
a VICTIM into a VICTORY.