Thursday, June 23, 2011
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Earnest young men found the gray-headed scholar as young at heart as they, thoughtful
or troubled women instinctively brought their doubts to him, sure of finding the gentlest sympathy, the wisest counsel. Sinners told their sins to the pure-hearted old man and were both rebuked and saved. Gifted men found a companion in him. Ambitious men caught glimpses of nobler ambitions than their own, and even worldlings confessed that his beliefs were beautiful and true, although `they wouldn't pay'.
To outsiders the...energetic women seemed to rule the house,and so they did in many things, but the quiet scholar, sitting among his books, was still the head of the family, the household conscience, anchor, and comforter, for to him the busy,anxious women always turned in troublous times, finding him, in the truest sense of those sacred words, husband and father.
The girls gave their hearts into their mother's keeping, their souls into their father's, and to both parents, who lived and labored so faithfully for them, they gave a love that grew with their growth and bound them tenderly together by the sweetest tie which blesses
life and outlives death.
~Louisa May Alcott Little Women
I love you Dad and am blessed daily be your influence. Happy Father's Day.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
She didn't seem to care.
Every once in a while she asked me a question and smiled kindly at my brief, barely alive response. As we approached the end of the meal she started telling me her story. My mind racing but my face stolid, I listened.
I heard as she shared her story of addiction, depression, broken relationships and God's healing power experienced in her life.
The memory of her gentle voice but strong words comes back to me as I think about my own story.
At the request of a very worried mutual friend, she came, vulnerable and ready to risk for the sake of helping a struggling soul.
She didn't know me. Yet she spoke with transparency, honesty, authenticity and tenderness. She didn't ask for a response from me or expect anything from me.
And I didn't offer.
Out of a deep love for God, she reached out in obedience expecting nothing. And nothing was what she got. Well, from me at least.
What she didn't know or couldn't anticipate was the profound impact that hour long lunch around a mutual friends table had on me. I sought help and I stopped beating myself up mentally. Those were some of the deepest darkest days of my life, and she brought a glimmer of light into my dark tunnel to show me where to walk next.
She's a customer of mine now. She comes into my shop and we periodically have the opportunity to share joys, sorrows and prayer requests. But I don't think I've ever actually thanked her.
So, dear friend, thank you for being real. Thank you for being vulnerable. Thank you for being honest. Thank you for sharing your life with me when I had nothing to offer in return. God used you. You were His words to me that day.
Is there someone who needs to hear your story? Who needs to see a real person? Risk it--offer without expecting.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
So why do it I bemoaned.
Why spend the time and energy washing the windows if all you get is a few stolen moments of sparkling beauty?
Spiritual life feels like that sometimes. You toil and sweat and sacrifice for a few stolen moments of beauty...
like when you have heart level conversation that clearly makes a difference
like when you're able to help, truly help someone in their need
like when the sunset takes your breath away
or when you sense God's love and know for that moment in earth time He's smiling on you.
This post is rambly and doesn't have a point accept that even though I hate cleaning in general and washing windows specifically, I'll keep doing it if only for those few moments of sparkle.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
While I tucked my babies in at night, other moms quieted their starving babies for fear of discovery.
While we moved into our home, others escaped theirs in the night.
While I read Good Night Moon to my three year old, recently orphaned Rwandan children huddled in the marshes night after night waiting for rescue.
While I enjoyed the safety, blessing and comfort of a loving husband, women on another continent suffered the cruelty and brutality of merciless men.
While we lived in relative harmony with our neighbors and in our community, villagers in Rwanda terrorized, tortured, and murdered their neighbors.
Reading as we forgive by Catherine Claire Larson, opened my eyes and heart not only to the pain these fellow humans endured during the Rwandan genocide of 1994, but also to the tremendous capacity for humans to forgive the unforgivable. The book relates several true stories of forgiveness between victim and offender. Unbelievable tales of reconciliation that demonstrate that healing for a war torn country is possible, each personal story inspires me to practice true forgiveness in my own life on a daily basis.
I'm thankful for my life and that, for whatever reason, I've been thus far spared the pain these people endured. But I never again want to be so consumed with my own small corner of this planet that I'm completely blind to another country's suffering.
Our Father which art in heaven,
Hallowed be thy name.
Thy kingdom come,
Thy will be done in earth,
as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our debts,
as we forgive our debtors.
And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from evil:
For thine is the kingdom,
and the power,
and the glory,
Jesus prayer in Matthew 6
King James Version
Want to know more? Here's a few websites:
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
is the death of his faithful servants. ~Psalm 116:15
What would my kids say about me when I die?
What would they laugh about?
Would memories spark hurt or anger about me or would love truly cover the multitude of my sins?
Would the funeral be more about me or the One to whom I belonged?
At the graveside, the pastor asked the family to say just one word that described their mom and grandma.
What would I want them to say?