"There is a door. And it waves to me."
I woke up with these words in my head this morning. Yep, I'm one of those weird ones. I awake in the morning (or if I'm intensely lucky, the middle of the night) with ideas in my head: lesson plans, songs, answers to math problems.... Today, I woke up with the first two sentences of a book that I think I'm supposed to write. My voice was silently saying them before I ever opened my eyes. (It's no wonder I don't wake up rested. I can't stop thinking!) Yeah, I know. I sound like one of those crazy, eccentric people who hears voices, isolates herself, and writes weird stuff. I'm not though. Really. (Am I trying to convince myself or you?)
Lately, I've just been feeling this, well, stirring. I guess that's what I'd call it. I've been feeling a need to write.. a need to write and sing. I guess the artsy fartsy part of my brain is taking over. Maybe it's hormones, maybe it's Spring, maybe I should just have a baby instead. :) I don't know. I just know that, with summer approaching, when I should be focusing on gardening, painting, and building sand castles with my kids at the beach, I can't get rid of this sense of urgency to write. So.... I will write. I'll let you know how it goes. (Maybe this can just be a short, children's book. Wouldn't that be lovely?)
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
world war
My heart is heavy tonight. What does that even mean anyway? Does it mean that I experience physical pain in my heart? Yes. Does it mean that inexplicable and, somewhat surprising, tears flow freely? Yes. Does it mean that I have this strange desire to suddenly solve the problems of the world in thirty minutes like my favorite T.V. shows? Most definitely. If only. If only..... I guess I know how this all began today. It seems that a girl I went to high school with - a girl I barely remember - was murdered last night. Murdered! She was tracked down from CT to Rhode Island, and stabbed to death in her car! Why? A conflict with a coworker. A conflict. Exactly what type of conflict, what level of annoyance constitutes murder? I turn on the news, and story after story tells the tale of another bold, brainless monster who feels he or she is entitled. Entitled to money, power, a better job, a better life... I begin to ask myself, is it the parents' fault? Where does the blame lie?
The blame lies with me. The blame lies with us. Sinners. We all have entitlement issues, don't we? We all think the world owes us. People owe us. God owes us. The truth is, we deserve nothing. I have the nerve to be angry that my dad is losing his fight with brain cancer. I have the nerve to believe that I am entitled to have my dad with me longer; that he is entitled to a longer, healthier life, that my kids are entitled to their grandfather. Who do I think I am? I am merely a speck on another speck in this garganuous unexplored universe.
YET, God saw fit to make a way for me to spend eternity with Him. The potter saw fit to become the clay. The Prince became the pauper. Why? So that I, the pauper, could become a Prince, a child of the king, a child of God. Jesus said, "Here on Earth, you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart [BUT TAKE HEART], because I have overcome the World." The war is won. When all is said and done, the battles I win, the battles I lose, mean victory. I can't solve the problems of the world in 30 minutes. But I can tell the world, one person at a time, about the one who did with one death and one ressurection. Whew! What a relief!
The blame lies with me. The blame lies with us. Sinners. We all have entitlement issues, don't we? We all think the world owes us. People owe us. God owes us. The truth is, we deserve nothing. I have the nerve to be angry that my dad is losing his fight with brain cancer. I have the nerve to believe that I am entitled to have my dad with me longer; that he is entitled to a longer, healthier life, that my kids are entitled to their grandfather. Who do I think I am? I am merely a speck on another speck in this garganuous unexplored universe.
YET, God saw fit to make a way for me to spend eternity with Him. The potter saw fit to become the clay. The Prince became the pauper. Why? So that I, the pauper, could become a Prince, a child of the king, a child of God. Jesus said, "Here on Earth, you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart [BUT TAKE HEART], because I have overcome the World." The war is won. When all is said and done, the battles I win, the battles I lose, mean victory. I can't solve the problems of the world in 30 minutes. But I can tell the world, one person at a time, about the one who did with one death and one ressurection. Whew! What a relief!
Saturday, February 12, 2011
A Dumb Sheep
It still amazes me that I can read a certain passage of scripture a hundred times and suddenly, one day, read it with eyes wide open, as if it's a new passage.
Today I read Psalm 23. Funny, I have read it forever. I memorized it in my Catholic school days. I've studied it piece by piece. Yet, today, I am right there. I am a sheep. I am dumb. I am tired. I am in a green meadow full of good food, and leaning into rest. I picture myself sitting in the warm sun, listening to the trickling of a nearby stream, without a care in the world. Why? My shepherd is there with me.
He takes care of me. Sometimes, I don't even give it a second thought, except that if he wasn't there, I would surely feel his absence. Even though I know that there are many wolves prowling behind the rocks a stone's throw away, I am not afraid. His rod and staff scare them away. When we're walking, he gently holds the rod against me so that I do not fall off of the craggy cliffs. Sometimes I'm stubborn, and I try to go a different way - where the grass looks greener. Then he has to be a little firmer with the staff. But he always leads me beside the still water, where I drink more than I could possibly hold. I am refreshed. I am at peace. I am at rest. Wow! Who wouldn't want to be a dumb sheep?
You know, I've been privileged with lovely times of sweet conversation with other woman. As a Christian, and a pastor's wife, I've heard many valuable nuggets of Truth. But honestly, when I sit before my Shepherd - exhausted, anxious, overwhelmed, unsure, He restores my soul like no human word of wisdom can do. I encourage you to let Him lead you to rest in the meadows. And I leave you with Psalm 23:
The Lord is my shepherd, I have all I need.
He lets me rest in green meadows, he leads me beside peaceful streams.
He renews my strength.
He guides me along right paths, bringing honor to his name.
Even when I walk through the darkest valley, I will not be afraid, for you are close beside me.
Your rod and your staff protect and comfort me.
You prepare a feast for me in the presence of my enemies.
You honor me by anointing my head with oil.
My cup overflows with blessings.
Surely your goodness and unfailing love will pursue me all the days of my life,
and I will live in the house of the Lord forever. (Psalm 23, NLT)
http://www.middle-east-pictures.com/middle-east/pictures/Drinking-Stream-Sheep.jpg
Today I read Psalm 23. Funny, I have read it forever. I memorized it in my Catholic school days. I've studied it piece by piece. Yet, today, I am right there. I am a sheep. I am dumb. I am tired. I am in a green meadow full of good food, and leaning into rest. I picture myself sitting in the warm sun, listening to the trickling of a nearby stream, without a care in the world. Why? My shepherd is there with me.
He takes care of me. Sometimes, I don't even give it a second thought, except that if he wasn't there, I would surely feel his absence. Even though I know that there are many wolves prowling behind the rocks a stone's throw away, I am not afraid. His rod and staff scare them away. When we're walking, he gently holds the rod against me so that I do not fall off of the craggy cliffs. Sometimes I'm stubborn, and I try to go a different way - where the grass looks greener. Then he has to be a little firmer with the staff. But he always leads me beside the still water, where I drink more than I could possibly hold. I am refreshed. I am at peace. I am at rest. Wow! Who wouldn't want to be a dumb sheep?
You know, I've been privileged with lovely times of sweet conversation with other woman. As a Christian, and a pastor's wife, I've heard many valuable nuggets of Truth. But honestly, when I sit before my Shepherd - exhausted, anxious, overwhelmed, unsure, He restores my soul like no human word of wisdom can do. I encourage you to let Him lead you to rest in the meadows. And I leave you with Psalm 23:
The Lord is my shepherd, I have all I need.
He lets me rest in green meadows, he leads me beside peaceful streams.
He renews my strength.
He guides me along right paths, bringing honor to his name.
Even when I walk through the darkest valley, I will not be afraid, for you are close beside me.
Your rod and your staff protect and comfort me.
You prepare a feast for me in the presence of my enemies.
You honor me by anointing my head with oil.
My cup overflows with blessings.
Surely your goodness and unfailing love will pursue me all the days of my life,
and I will live in the house of the Lord forever. (Psalm 23, NLT)
http://www.middle-east-pictures.com/middle-east/pictures/Drinking-Stream-Sheep.jpg
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
LIFE
It's been such a long time since I have felt the need or have had the opportunity to blog, that I almost forgot I had one! I stumbled upon it quite by accident, actually, through a series of catch-ups with various social networks of which I'd lost connection. Well, give me a few (or few hundred) snow days, and I'm all caught up!
I look out my window on days like these and find myself continually vacillating between the feelings of absolute depression, and complete contentment. A birch tree without leaves is not a lovely sight to behold; yet, throw on some white, glistening snow and a hungry blue jay, and, voila: beauty in the ugly. Life in death. I keep reminding myself that, although I can't see them, those daffodil bulbs are sprouting through the frozen ground. The snow - that cold, hard, insurmountable pile of snow is, even now, keeping them warm. At this very moment, the trees are preparing to send out their leaves. With white, gray death surrounding me, the promise of life is my hope, my promise, my guarantee.
Is that what Jesus thought of while he was hanging in unimaginable physical, spiritual, and emotional pain on the rugged cross? Was he reminded of His very creation and the illustration of His plan given to us by it? Was His hope, His promise, His guarantee of His resurrection what gave Him the courage to press on until "it was finished"? More importantly, was the promise of MY life even while I was dead, forefront in His mind?
I still won't apologize for thinking green is prettier than white, blue is more beautiful than gray. I will probably still complain every time I have to put on my coat, boots... and every time I have to warm up my car to pull out of the driveway. Make no mistake though, I know the hope I have: the hope of Spring... the promise of new life.
I look out my window on days like these and find myself continually vacillating between the feelings of absolute depression, and complete contentment. A birch tree without leaves is not a lovely sight to behold; yet, throw on some white, glistening snow and a hungry blue jay, and, voila: beauty in the ugly. Life in death. I keep reminding myself that, although I can't see them, those daffodil bulbs are sprouting through the frozen ground. The snow - that cold, hard, insurmountable pile of snow is, even now, keeping them warm. At this very moment, the trees are preparing to send out their leaves. With white, gray death surrounding me, the promise of life is my hope, my promise, my guarantee.
Is that what Jesus thought of while he was hanging in unimaginable physical, spiritual, and emotional pain on the rugged cross? Was he reminded of His very creation and the illustration of His plan given to us by it? Was His hope, His promise, His guarantee of His resurrection what gave Him the courage to press on until "it was finished"? More importantly, was the promise of MY life even while I was dead, forefront in His mind?
I still won't apologize for thinking green is prettier than white, blue is more beautiful than gray. I will probably still complain every time I have to put on my coat, boots... and every time I have to warm up my car to pull out of the driveway. Make no mistake though, I know the hope I have: the hope of Spring... the promise of new life.
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