Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for September, 2012

Driving down the road recently I heard a song on the radio that put my mind to contemplating obituary writing (now that sounds like a bit of a downer, doesn’t it?).

It is a song by the group Sidewalk Prophets, called “Live Like That,” and it just makes me consider how I live my life, in such a profound way, every time I hear it.

The song begins with the simple question that we have all asked at some point in our lives:

“Sometimes I think
What will people say of me
When I’m only just a memory
When I’m home where my soul belongs”

I see that question in the eyes of the elderly especially, but also in the eyes of those who are my age, when I attend a funeral. We celebrate a life, and wonder if we are living in such a way as to give reason for celebration when we pass. Common contemplation for we mere mortals.

Then it moves into the question that really makes me ponder how I am spending the gift of the time I have to walk this sod:

“Was I love
When no one else would show up
Was I Jesus to the least of those
Was my worship more than just a song”

Ah, authentic living! That is what I desire with all my heart, but I am so very … human. I fail at this so easily. I forget to be the hands and feet of my God. I sometimes worship out of ritual. My authenticity can sometimes be so very … plastic … but that is not what I desire most.

In the second verse, I am challenged not in what I do, but in who I am in my heart:

“Am I proof
That You are who you say You are
That grace can really change a heart
Do I live like Your love is true

People pass
And even if they don’t know my name
Is there evidence that I’ve been changed
When they see me, do they see You”

Ah, the questions that are at the heart of living a life as a reflection of the one who lives within us. It is here that I want so very much to be successful, not for my own success, but to accurately represent the one who I claim with my lips has changed my life, who gives delight to my days, who gave more than any other. This verse is one that I want to rattle through my brain as I live each day. I need it to rattle in my head, so as to remind me to live with purpose and intent each day.

The chorus and the ending of the song pull it all together …

“I want to show the world the love You gave for me
I’m longing for the world to know the glory of the King

I want to live like that
And give it all I have
So that everything I say and do
Points to You

If love is who I am
Then this is where I’ll stand
Recklessly abandoned
Never holding back

I want to live like that”

Read Full Post »

I was saddened the other day to read the post of a fellow blogger, of her exposure to a Christian gentleman (I use the word gentleman VERY loosely).

This man, a customer at a restaurant, pleaded for ‘deals’ on numerous menu items. Then proceeded to ‘preach’ whenever he could get any of the restaurant employees attention. He he condemned many people groups for their beliefs and lifestyles. Then his daughter paid the bill (no mention of a tip either).

I was boiling! He makes me embarrassed to be called a Christian. To me, he defames the name of Christ!

This man lives in a bubble without the understanding that but by the grace of God … Instead, he lives in belief that he is where he is because of his ‘right’ behaviors. In his eagerness to tell others how not to live, he is forgetting that choosing the path of Christ is full of far more affirmations than denials.

This man makes representing my Savior to others so difficult, because he undermines my main hope-filled desire; that it is in following in the Creator-ordained steps of my Savior, people would see less of me and more of Him.

The Jesus I worship does not condemn the non-believer of anything except for unbelief.

This makes me think of the story from John (chapter 4), known as the woman at the well. Jesus comes to the well, and asks for a drink of water from not just a woman, but a Samaritan woman (a social faux pas, as he was a Jew), and not just a Samaritan woman but a woman who has had five husbands, and many more men in her life (enough said). Jesus does not condemn her bloodline nor her lifestyle, He simply offers her a quenching for her thirst that simple water could never do.

“This is way too much for just me
there are others,
brother, sister, lovers, haters,
the good and the bad
sinners and saints
who should hear what you told me
who should see what you showed me
who should taste what you gave me
who should feel how you forgave me
for to be known is to be loved
and to be loved is to be known
and they all need this too
we all do
need it for our own”

Because of the way Jesus loved her, she accepted the living water that He offered, and it is said that “many of the Samaritans from that town believed in him because of the woman’s testimony” (John 4:39). And who would not come to believe if they first were loved as Jesus loves? And it is He, the Christ, who makes me unashamed to be called Christian.

Read Full Post »

One of the blogs I recently read, although short, was to the point, and a good reminder.

The following is the self description of the author of this blog:

“My name is Laura Flett.  I taught for 30 years in the public schools, retiring to become a writer.  That was in 2001.   I now teach part time at a local college and in two after school programs.  And I write, a lot.  Morning pages begin the day, a writing group in the middle of the week,  three loyal writing buddies, and this new adventure, blogging.  OK, so I’m a writer. I also know the power of writing.  My only child committed suicide when he was 27 years old.  My life was turned upside down.  All I trusted at that point was my pen and notebook.  So I journaled.  Constantly.  My book, WritingToward the Light, found at www.eaglewingspress.com, is a description of that journey.”

Laura offers beautifully honest writings, always “starting with a quote.”

Itstartedwithaquote

Read Full Post »

Hubby and I have been married for almost an eternity and we share three children … ages almost twenty, fifteen and a half and almost thirteen (funny … almost and halves are never added to the ages of parents … I, for instance, am thirty-nine … with three four years experience).

Just a few weeks ago we said farewell to our eldest for a semester at an East Coast University. Our youngest daughter entered grade ten, and our youngest is in his last year of Middle School.

For the past couple of summers I have had moments when I can see into the future.

Our home would frequently be vacated by our kids. Dinners in the summer are often just three of us, or, if we are lucky, two. Those times when it is just us two, we feel are treats, and we enjoy the peace and quiet that our kid’s busy social lives allow.

But, peace and quiet, as delightful as it is once in a while, reminds me that it is coming in a more regular fashion, and very soon. These moments of alone time for hubby and I remind me that soon it will be hubby and I more often than not. That the laundry will not take all Saturday. That dinner out will not be Subway. That grocery shopping will be a short stop rather than an evening affair. That my vehicle will not be a minivan, and it will not go through fuel like that of a taxi.

Recently, when the house was empty, except for hubby and I, I just sat and imagined all that extra time to do as I pleased. Hubby was tapping away at his laptop, watching something on television. The beast was having her after-dinner nap. And, I was still and imagined.

I did not like what I was imagining, because it seemed so very … quiet.

As I sat, imagining, I realized that this phase of life is the one I dreamed of most, back when it was just hubby and I, dreaming together of what our future would be. I have never been a ‘baby person,’ although I loved our kids as babies. I always dreamed of having a house full of adolescents and teens, filling our house, and my days, with noise, and laughter and the challenges of growing up. I imagined just what I have, right now.

How blessed I am to have this dream fulfilled. And how blessed I am that God whispered in my ear, to be still, so that I didn’t wish this most desired phase of life to be over without fully immersing my heart into it.

Read Full Post »

One of my favorite parts of working in high school is seeing the metamorphosis that occurs as teens grow and mature in their relationships with their peers.

It can leave a residue on my heart, that, over the years, has changed how I related to students.

There was a girl who was choosing poorly. She had given up on the ‘childish’ things she loved, things like sports, her youth group, books and schoolwork. She was mentally moving to the wrong side of the tracks, and on that wrong side was hanging out at the mall, friends who brought her down, premature dating and exposures to chemical substances.

She was only twelve.

For the next three years she chose the ‘dark side’ and, ironically, that dark side started to gray her appearance. Her make-up became darker, her clothes became darker, tighter and more revealing, her attitude became darker, and her personality became darker.

Her marks slid, her reputation with peers was negative and she was ‘pegged’ a hopeless case. Sadly she was probably pegged that hopeless case a long time prior, as her home situation was a rough one that could make it difficult for her to see and dream of hope for her future.

Then, as school began for yet another year, this young lady ‘looked’ different. The shadows were disappearing, and were being replaced by a brightening, a lightening of her appearance. Her make-up was lighter, her clothes were lighter, looser more modest, her attitude, her personality seemed cheerier, happier, lighter.

That new school year she tried out for a sports team, she walked with a smile, instead of a scowl, and she began to make efforts to connect with a different, a more hope-filled, a more future-minded crowd of peers.

It does not always happen this way, but that different, more future-minded crown of peers, welcomed her in. They accepted her, and invited her to be part of them, to be one of them.

Her life began to show signs of hope.

This story is one that I created from a combination of many stories I see walking the halls of high school every day. It is a story without knowledge of the ending as we do not know where the life of an adolescent or teen might go.

What we do know is that the life of a teen or adolescent is like that of a tight rope walker. They might be headed along on the straight and narrow, but at any time they might lose their balance. The resulting fall call be fast, hard, and with long lasting consequences.

When you see a teen you know, say hello to them, ask about their weekend, their plans for after school. These simple, natural interactions, accompanied by silent prayers for the life, the heart, the soul of that individual, can be the bright spot in an otherwise dark day for a teen. Be intentional in noticing these developing souls as they prepare to emerge from their adolescent cocoon as a moth or a beautiful butterfly.

Read Full Post »

I was pondering a new color for my walls lately and after much agony, thought, comparison and inner debate over the consequences of my choice I think I have decided.

As I enjoyed my moments of inner peace over such a monumental decision making session ( it’s been going on in my head for about three years) I then pondered if the color choices of my walls over the years has revealed what was going on in my life.

I remember the color of my walls, in the floral wallpaper I had chosen, as a teen … peach. It was soft and fresh and inviting. My bedroom was my refuge to be alone and feel complete contentment. As I look back over those teen years they were, truly, peachy (not all of them, I was a teen after all).

When I got married, hubby and I rented half of an old house, complete with a soft blue (I am sure it was called ‘baby blue’) floral wallpaper in the living room. And although I was desperate to strip it and paint the rented walls (a no, no in our lease agreement) I did not hate it. Of course I was also newly married, and it is amazing that I noticed the wallpaper on the walls, I was so blissfully happy.

Then we moved from a hundreds year old East Coast rental to a brand new apartment in Canada’s capital. All of the walls were … beige. All of the carpets were gray with a hint of … beige. I could not paint the walls (now hating lease agreements) and I was discontented with my state.

After a year or two we moved into a townhouse, a home purchased for us to rent, and we were free to do with it as we pleased … woohoo! And paint we did! Many of the walls got painted a mid to deep blue, called Nirvana, I loved it. In time we purchased this home, and enjoyed all that it provided for us, as we lived and loved, and welcomed our firstborn home. Contented!

Our life then took a turn for the West, and back to renting. The home we moved into came with beige walls, beige ceilings and beige floors (and, sigh, a lease agreement). I still refer to it as the beige wind tunnel! There we lived for two years, and welcomed daughter number two, a colicky red-head who kept us awake at night and attached to coffee by day. Those years were ones of adjustment, to everything!

Then a home of our own, in a community we chose. It met us with dusty rose carpets and baby blue walls, not an original carpet or wall color remained when we left, six years later. The walls were painted a taupe dark enough to know it was NOT beige, with one painted a vibrant burgundy. Our kitchen a bright, Mediterranean yellow. There we welcomed our son. There our life, and the years there were bright, contented, complete.

And now, in our current home for the past eight years, our longest stay under one roof!

Here we welcomed two felines (buried one), a beast (hubby would say a beast of burden), a handful of renters, and two from China who live as part of our family. Here we saw one child enter grade one, and another graduate high school. We have lived here longer than any other home.

We entered a beige wind tunnel n the beginning, and added color so that there is now a different color in every room. What we originally painted taupe with a more orange-red feature wall, will soon be changed. The colors of our previous house, like the life we lived there, could not be re-created here and feel ‘right’. This house is a different house, and our life here is not a copied image from our previous abode.

Yellow will cover all hints of beige, all hints of trying to re-create the past, and starting fresh. A bright new phase of color on the walls, and life under this roof.

Sometimes our outward expressions of paint on the walls, or words from our mouths, reflect perfectly what is going on inside of our beings. Sometimes those (and other) expressions, are applied outwardly in order to alter our inner reality.

Read Full Post »

As we drove down the road that we do not often drive, I spotted a new home still being constructed. Situated on top of hill, it had a perfect view of the reflected setting sun upon Washington’s Mount Baker. “Oh, what a perfect view I said to my husband,” and barely before I finished my declaration, from the back of the van, my son said, “that house has a perfect view.”

Hubby and I looked at each other, laughed, then shared my similar comment with the occupant of the rear of the vehicle. Then my son and I decided that if the two of us were to build a home, our first priority would be the view.

As I ponder that moment in time, I see similar characteristics in my son and I. We long for beauty, we are aesthetically needy individuals. We desire to have an appealing view in our life, and to be looking toward something that pleases our eyes.

I also see in this similarity, how this characteristic we share, is contrary to my son’s position in football. You see my son plays defense, and when you play defense your job is to hit, to tackle, to do anything possible to ensure that the opposing team is prevented from completing their intended play, and advancing towards the goal posts. When you play defense you have your back to the view that is the goal of your opponents. You are, in essence, trying to alter the view of the game, by changing the direction that the ball is going.

I also see that this characteristic we share is contrary to my position at work. I work as an Educational Assistant in a high school. I work with students who have diagnosable struggles to accomplish their school work. When you work in this field your job is to unlock doors you do not see to rooms of gifts and abilities that may or may not exist. I constantly work with my eyes blindfolded to how far this student will go, I cannot fathom the view that is the potential.

Despite how blinded to where we are going, what my son and I share is a focus on a view that we both know exists, despite our inability to see it while we are doing our jobs, focusing on our tasks, living our day. We are able to do this because we know the view is out there, and we know that it is beautiful beyond our imaginations. So, we soldier on with the anticipation of what is to come.

This is the Christian experience of daily living. God has given us a view of not just eternity, but of a life lived with Him. It is beautiful beyond our imaginations. And, despite the fact that our view is obstructed by the realities of living in a sin-filled world, despite the fact that it sometimes seems as though we are blinded to the future. Despite the fact that it sometimes seems as though our view is behind us, our faith in the existence of what is to come, and of the beauty that awaits, motivates us to soldier on, in anticipation of the view to come.

“Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”
Hebrews 11:1

Read Full Post »

In the early morning quiet I am the only one under our roof who is awake.

I sit with the laptop warming my knees and hear the various songs of the dawns chorus by the early birds that says good morning to me. This is my favorite time of day.

The sky lightens with every minutes passing, the shadows appear and become more distinct, then fade as the light takes over the places of shadows.

My beast greats me each morning at the door of my bedroom with one joyous, hope-filled open eye staring up, communicating, “can I pee now?” When I open the door for her, I am greeted with the gift of fresh, crisp, clean air. My lungs inhale it’s newness with no conscious thought from me.

As I take in that first breath of morning air I sense that now I am awake, now I am alive from the inside out.

I smell the dampness in the air that the morning dew creates, I smell the creation that is green and purple, and blue and red and yellow… the flowers of my garden. I see the creation that is green and purple and blue and red and yellow … the flowers of His garden.

It is here, each and every morning that I step out onto the deck that I am confronted with His garden, His creation, His abilities, His greatness. It is here, each and every morning that all that He has created reminds me that He also created me. That He is bigger than me. That He can make beauty from dirt from nothing. It is here that I am reminded that, if I hand my problems, my struggles, my heartaches and my to do list over to Him, He will make beauty from my dirt, from nothing. He reminds me that if I take the whole of my life, even my body, and there in the alter of His garden, lay it all out for Him to do as He wills, as an act of sacrifice, He will take it, He will redeem the life I have, and make it something better than I ever could … something new.

Then I inhale a new scent, and I look down to see my beast, content that her ‘job’ is done, ready to move on to the intake of food. And I am reminded that signs of life are not always sweet. Sometimes signs of life are truly crappy. Sometimes signs of life are downright shitty.

Death can be one of those sour signs of life. Or illness, or pain, or stress, or struggle, or disappointment, or bills, or divorce, or a failed test, or broken trust. We feel the weight that those signs of life, through no conscious choice of our own to feel them. As we take in those sour signs of life we sense that we are awake, that we are alive from the inside out. Sometimes these more sour events and seasons in our lives make us feel alive … and wish it were not so.

They are indeed signs of life. And they remind us that life is not just the life we have here, now, today, but that there is a life beyond all time and space. A life where every breath is like that first morning uncontrolled inhaling of fresh created air. A life where we will not just have the created to woo us awake, and to marvel at with all of our sense, but also the Creator who will turn our mourning into dancing.

Read Full Post »

A few weeks back I read a blog by a fantastic blogger from India, named Tanushree.

Tanushree introduces me to her culture with each and every of her posts. She writes creatively and passionately, and simply for the joy of getting her thoughts out and onto the screen.

In the post that I have linked from here Tanushree weaves a tale that represents the real experiences of some women in India. A man from another country comes a calling. A marriage is arranged by his and her families, and then … well you need to read the entire story for the end to be revealed.

Sinless

Read Full Post »

So, that 6am sky is darker, and the air is chillier when I let the Beast out for her morning ablutions. The bags under my eyes are baggier and my coffee need greater. The laundry basket is fuller and the refrigerator is emptier. The energy is  s o   m u c h   l o w e r  and the to do list is so much longer.

The fall routines of back to school have begun, from earlier wake ups, to lunch making, to mounds of laundry (what exactly does everyone wear in the summer that causes the amount of laundry to double once school starts?), and now we are all eagerly awaiting the best part of the first week of school … the weekend!

When students and school staff walk out of the school doors this afternoon, when moms and dads bring their minivans full of childhood or adolescent bodies home, when parents park their vehicles on Friday evening, a sigh of relief will echo across the land.

This afternoon marks the end of making lunches (and driving them to school midday when they call to tell you they forgot it at home), the end of early mornings, the end of papers to sign, and an opportunity to relax and take a breath from the marathon that is the first week of school.

Truly, if we still have the energy and ability to read this post, lift our delivery pizza to our mouths, and flip the TV channels we can say that we have survived. I’m not talking thriving, just surviving!

The newness of pencils and papers, shiny running shoes, and finding out who the teachers are for the year have all come and gone, and next week it’s all just the regular routine. And, I have to admit, I like it. I fall into this routine so quickly, so easily, so naturally. It has been the routine of my life, minus my baby birthing and rearing season of life.

After all, a school year allows you to make countdowns …

only eighteen school days until Thanksgiving weekend
only fifteen weeks until Christmas break
only nine and a half months until summer break …

What can I say, goals are one of the keys to survival!

Read Full Post »

« Newer Posts - Older Posts »

Lessons from a Lab

From My Daily Walk with the Lord and My Labrador

From The Darkness Into The Light

love, christ, God, devotionals ,bible studies ,blog, blogging, salvation family,vacations places pictures marriage, , daily devotional, christian fellowship Holy Spirit Evangelists

Karla Sullivan

Progressive old soul wordsmith

Becoming the Oil and the Wine

Becoming the oil and wine in today's society

I love the Psalms

Connecting daily with God through the Psalms

Memoir of Me

Out of the abundance of my heart ,I write❤️

My Pastoral Ponderings

Pondering my way through God's beloved world

itsawonderfilledlife

FIXING MY EYES on wonder in everyday life

Perfectly Imperfect Life

Jesus lovin', latte drinking, dog lovin', Kansas mama and wife.

What Are You Thinking?

I won't promise that they are deep thoughts, but they are mine. And they tend to be about theology.

Sealed in Christ

An Outreach of Sixth Seal Ministries

Amazing Tangled Grace

A blog about my spiritual journey in the Lord Jesus Christ.

Following the Son

One man's spiritual journey

Fortnite Fatherhood

A father's digital age journey with his family and his faith

Forty Something Life As We Know It

I am just an ordinary small-town woman in her forties enjoying the country life. Constantly searching for wisdom on a daily basis.