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Archive for June, 2013

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This is the big week for exams at the school I work, as well as for those living in my house.

In our house the stress of writing exams comes out in as many ways as there are individuals under the roof!

There is the chocolate-lover, the study avoider, the tummy-acher, the movie watcher, the mom and dad chatter, the bedroom-cleaner, the carb-eater, etc., etc,. etc.

In my job in a high school, I love when I get to supervise, read or scribe for a individual or group while they are doing their exam. For me, the best part of this task is that I get to pray for the students before they start their exams (I work in a Christian school, so I have the freedom to do this).

For so many (I expect for all) who are writing exams the stress can be overwhelming, and praying for those students is the greatest gift and assistance that I can give to them.

I believe that praying does not give the students a better ability to access the knowledge and facts that they have learned, it does not give them a magical power where the control of their pens is removed from their hands, and the right answers all get written on the lines. What I believe that praying for them does accomplish is that it sets the atmosphere for the peace, that only Christ can give, to allow them to relax and remember what is important, and who is in control.

As this week proceeds, this is my prayer for those of you who are about to sit at the seat of examination:

Lord God,

thank-you for this day.

thank-you for allowing us to have breath, and health.

thank-you for giving us the strength and ability to be here today.

God,

these students need your peace,

they need your comfort,

they need to know that you are here with them.

Lord,

help them to relax,

help them to remember what they have learned,

help them to have the time to complete this exam before them.

God,

I also pray that they would remember,

this is just one exam

two hours,

in their entire lives,

pass or fail, it does not determine their value,

nor will their mark change who they are in Your eyes.

Help them to exhale,

hold them close,

remind them they are not alone.

In Your holy name,

Amen

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It is Father’s Day today, and to my Dad I say thank-you for being simply the best!

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Father’s Day can be a great day of celebrating the father in your life, or it can be a day when negative experiences, words or actions (or a lack of actions) surface in your mind and heart.

I am so fortunate that my father is one I desire greatly to celebrate. He is a good and honorable man, who always made me feel loved and valued. Despite our not sharing a blood connection, it is through his legal and emotional adoption of me (almost forty years ago today) that I came to understand another Father’s love.

This video is a metaphor for that most sacrificial of all loves.

May you today know of the the love of the Father who is always there, always fulfilling promises, always loving you.

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In Christ, you’re a native of heaven right now.
You aren’t a citizen of here trying to work into heaven.
You’re a citizen of heaven trying to work through here.

– Ann Voskamp

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Where is your citizenship?

We all have birth certificates and passports that declare where our home is, in the eyes of our individual ‘Caesars,’ but this life is short, and those legal documents declaring our Earthly citizenship do not take us into Eternity.

The citizenship of our Foreverland is stamped, in blood, and we do not have to fill out forms to apply, we simply have to be willing to receive. And once we receive, we have arrived, safe in the homeland of the kingdom of God that exists here and now, that exists for all eternity with Christ.

We have all had moments in our lives when we have felt that we were not quite there yet, as though our new passport has not arrived in the post, or we, like in the following story, have arrived at the border, the airport, the train station, the boat dock without proof of where we belong. We have all had times when, sitting around the board table, the pot luck table, the family dinner table, we felt like an illegal alien who does not fit, who does not belong … and oh, how we yearn to belong! Oh, how we yearn …

The yearning is a gift, a reminder, that we were made for a garden … and a garden was made for us.

But …

even when the weeds seem to strangle,
even when the soil is no longer rich but dry like dust,
even when the rains are washing away our crop …

this weed-infested,
heartache-filled,
I-don’t-know-what-to-do-next citizenship on sin-filled planet Earth …

is also created by the great garden tender, who also created us.

This is the kingdom

We are the kingdom-bearers

Children of the great high king

Ruler of heaven …

and Earth.

Even though we sometimes say to ourselves, “I can’t believe they let you in.”

And here follows a reminder about citizenship, by Ann Voskamp …

“Someone has to be that Mother.
 
That mother who drives a full 3 hours to the border with a packed mini-van and anxious kids and creeps through a 20 minute traffic backup under the hot, beating sun, only to rifle through her wallet and look up feebly to tell the custom’s officer she doesn’t have birth certificates for 2 of her children.
 
So that would be me.
 
“Do you have any ID at all — for either one of them?”
 
The custom’s officer asks it gently. Like he doesn’t want to push the flustered and flailing over any imagined or very real edge.
 
He glances back at the long snake of vehicles behind me, waiting. In the sun. That’s not moving either.
 
“Um… no.” I shuffle through my wallet again. “No, sir — I don’t.” Does the earth open up and swallow the Abiram of mothers?
 
“I’m so sorry, sir. If I can just turn around?” I close up my wallet and I can feel it up the neck, the face — the mother shame burning like a red-hot brand. How in the world? What kind of mother…. ?
 
I’m already cranking at the steering wheel, trying to get this mess turned around, thinking that when you can’t swallow down any grace, you turn yourself back from the land of the free.
 
“Just a moment, ma’am. Open up the door here.” He waves my passport in the direction of the van’s side door. I fumble behind me, try to unlatch it, still hoping the earth might open up instead. The officer pops his head in. “Birthdates, kids.”
 
Birthdates?
 
Joshua states his month, day, year and Hope leans forward and I’m the realist who doesn’t hold out much hope at all.
 
The officer taps it into his computer, glances over at me, “And are they Canadian citizens?”
 
“Yes?”
 
And I really try to say it like I’m not always a tentative Canadian, like it’s not a question, like I’m dubious, like I think he’s just gleefully extending the torture of my ineptness and embarrassment of not having one piece of paper to prove anything — because isn’t this the United States of America and when exactly did they start letting in hicks without a passport, without a birth certificate?
 
He looks up from the screen.
 
“Welcome to the United States, ma’am. Have a nice day.”
 
And he hands me my passport.
 
“Welcome?” Um … Really? “But if you let us into the States…” I stammer it out —”

And now click here, When You Sort of Feel Like You Don’t Belong, to read the rest. And for my family who knows they matter, there’s a rainbow at the end!

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I have a secret shame … but, I guess it will soon no longer be secret …

It all started about eight and a half years ago, when we had company over for dinner in our new house. We had experienced quite an exciting process in the purchasing of this current house, and selling of our previous place (in the order … sigh), and we truly felt that God had provided this little piece of heaven on earth for us.

20130611-171131.jpgFrom the moment that the couple arrived, until they left hours later, the wife of the couple was constantly making comments about how big the house is, how excessive the house is, how extravagant the house is. By the time they left, later that evening, my joy of our new home had been popped like a helium balloon.

big

excessive

extravagant

For the thrift shopping, Scottish heritage bearing, tightwad in me those descriptors of our home were enough to make me feel shamed.

As I look back now, my desire to move, to downsize, started with that evening. I could not bear to imagine people thinking that I, that we, wanted to live in excess.

This story came to mind the other day when I was planning a party at our home, and I pulled one of the people invited aside and asked him to please not judge me on our over-sized house. Each word I communicated to him, I did so with the similarity of a dog with it’s tail between it’s legs after being caught ripping up the baseboards (not that that has ever happened with our beast). What I was really communicating to him was not humility, but shame.

But now, as hubby and I are looking at ending this season in this house I am remembering that, although I have referred to it as an albatross, although I have referred to it as the original Money Pit, although I have referred to this house as owning us (and let me tell you, it does), I am remembering how, originally, we looked at it as a blessing, from the hand of God …

It is what we have done with that gift … allowing it to own us, allowing it to dictate how we spend our time … our money, allowing the words of one person to cast a shifting shadow on the gift that God delighted in presenting to us.

May we learn from this secret shame … may we overlook the shadow to see the light of God in the blessings … all of the blessings … that He has given.

“Every good and perfect gift is from above,
coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights,
who does not change like shifting shadows.”
James 1:17

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No, I am not pregnant! But someone is expecting!

Recently, as a gas fitter was replacing a part on our pool furnace, he discovered a nest of tiny little eggs in the bushes behind the pool shed.

Way down into the bushes, into the dried grass and weeds a momma bird had hollowed out a place where she could see the sun, and anything else that might peer into her nest, but deep enough that it would be out of the line of sight of any going by.

The gas fitter discovered it because th

 

ere was this tiny, very verbal, bird that kept yapping, flitting back and forth. He had the presence of mind to realize that the behaviors exhibited by this bird were protective, and that there might be a nest somewhere, so he started to look around, and eventually discovered what this mamma was protecting.

Into that hollowed out nest were five of the tiniest eggs possible.

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And now we wait …

Mamma bird is starting to get accustomed to my intrusions … although I am not getting accustomed to her greeting. About every second day I crawl up onto the upper part of our back yard, perched precariously on my knees, then try to spy the spot where the nest is located. Each time I ‘get’ to experience deeper understanding of the element of surprise, when mamma bird comes flying out at my face, squawking to scare me away from the family she is protecting.

 

I have tried to assure her that her family is safe in my eyes, and that my hands will never touch her precious treasures, but I do not seem to be as good at communicating my intentions as she is at communicating hers.

As a mom, I have to say that swallow or sparrow mamma really could have chosen a better, more safe place to lay her eggs. If my beast was ever off leash, she could get her nose into that nest in no time, as could any other four-legged creature … and there are many of the feline variety who walk through our garden. There is so much possibility of harm that could come to she and her babes.

As there is to each of us.

We often live a little on the edge, with potential dangers all around.

But we have One who loves and protects us, because He made us. He formed the birds of the air, and cares for them … He formed man and woman, and He cares for us too.

We are His, and He sees we humans as his ‘pièce de résistance’. He gives us the promise that He will never leave us (Hebrews 13:5), that He cares for us (1 Peter 5:7), that He has loved us with an everlasting love (Jeremiah 31:3), and that we are more valuable than many … sparrows.

the value He places on us is

“So do not fear; you are more valuable than many sparrows.”
Matthew 10:31

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Well it’s time to share another worship song. This time I cannot call it a new song, because it was released almost a year ago … although it is new to me.

I do love it when a solidly written, biblically accurate, singable song from the past gets re-birthed into something more contemporary to the present day, and that is what has happened with the song Cornerstone, by Hillsong.

A cornerstone is the first stone, laid at the corner of a building, upon which the rest of the stones are set. It is also known as a foundation 800px-Hickman_Temple_AME_Church,_Philadelphia,_cornerstonestone. Historically, the laying of the cornerstone was often ceremonial, much like now, when we have a sod-turning photo opportunity. The cornerstone would often have an inscription carved into it (often with the date of construction beginning), and/or it would contain objects, acting as a time capsule.

The original hymn, first published in 1837. My Hope is Built on Nothing Less, was written by English pastor, Edward Mote. He was so loved by his congregation in Horsham that “they offered him the church building as a gift. Mote replied “I do not want the chapel, I only want the pulpit; and when I cease to preach Christ, then turn me out of that.”” The hymn was originally titled “The Immutable Basis of a Sinner’s Hope” by Mote.

The cornerstone is often spoken of in Christian worship music, hymns, choruses as a reminder of Isaiah 28:16 :

“So this is what the Sovereign Lord says:
“See, I lay a stone in Zion, a tested stone,
a precious cornerstone for a sure foundation;
the one who relies on it will NEVER be stricken with panic.””

The Immutable (unchanging) Basis of a Sinner’s Hope … that is what Jesus is, our cornerstone, our hope … and our hope is built on nothing less!

(For those of you who love to check out new, or older, worship music, I highly recommend www.worshiptogether.com/songs )

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There is something about words in action that not only speaks to our hearts, but yells into our souls.

When our children were young and they say, “I love you,” they say it with their entire being, and the words would usually be accompanied by a big hug.

When our children would say, “I am sorry,” we would remind them that the words are good, but to mean them is to work to not repeat whatever they are apologizing for.

When it is Mother’s Day or my mom’s birthday, saying “I love you Mom” is heart-touching for my mother, but if I really want to fill her cup I send her a card, because she loves to see that I made that small effort to give her something to hold on to (and I sadly do not give feet to that love for her often enough).

Love is strongest in action. Even in the relationship with God and humanity, love was communicated in action :

“For God so loved the world
that he gave his one and only Son ….”
John 3:16

Yet again my guest post comes from (in)courage (http://www.incourage.me/2013/05/love-and-cough-drops.html). This time written by By Kristin Gordley (Moments In the Story). I have included the completed post, and I pray that you will be encouraged to love in action.

love-is-a-verb

“The other morning I was rushing around trying to get ready while my four-year-old was standing in my bathroom, asking me questions. He watched me use my eye lash curler, and then he tried it himself. As we were chit-chatting about all my beauty products and what they do, he said out of the blue, “Mama, your eyes are pretty and your ear wax tastes good!” I tried hard not to laugh, because I knew he had just tried to craft his words into a statement of love. “Thanks, buddy, I really appreciate it”.

Lately I’ve noticed his efforts to connect with me. Recently when I got ready to go out with his daddy for a rare date-night, he said I looked “beauuutiful”. My son is very verbal. He has always been unafraid to talk to people when we are out and about. The first question he asks every morning when he wakes up is, “who are we gonna see?”  The wirings God infused in him for enjoying people are already evident. He relishes creative conversations with his dad and I, and he longs for restoration with us when we have to correct him.

But the other day he brought tears to my eyes as I recognized something important he was learning, and in turn teaching me. I had been sick for a few days, and he was enjoying the novelty of playing with my cough drops. While I was getting him and his little brother packed up in the car for a grocery trip, he ran back into the house and stuffed a bunch of cough drops into his pocket. I was a little annoyed because I was trying to get us out the door. On the way to the store he must have asked a hundred times if I needed a cough drop. My repeated “no thank you” turned into, “I’m fine. You don’t need to ask me anymore!”

I got them in the cart, into the store, and we were finally making progress. And then I started coughing…..

“Mama, do you need a cough drop?”

I accepted it…..and yet another. And I realized how much I needed his little act of love. In my heart I stopped and thanked God for my son’s display of something God has been impressing upon me. Then I remembered the verse that just days before, I found myself studying in a coffee shop.

1 John 3:18

“Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue,

but with actions and in truth.”

I tell my boys how much I love them all the time. I tell my husband, too. I love connecting with people through meaningful conversations, and reaching out with my words is not a struggle for me. But putting actions behind my love is something I don’t always find easy.

Watching my son move from verbally telling me how he felt about me, to choosing to act on his feelings was one of the most surprising and humbling moments I’ve had as a mom. Active love stopped me in my tracks and it challenged me.

We tend to emphasize loving acts that are big, for all eyes to see. But sometimes the smaller ones are the most meaningful…..like a little hand holding out a cough drop at just the right moment.”

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It’s that time of year again … exam time!

ae85c17eda2d3c8bc0cb18388a4075c3Either you, or someone in your life has just finished, just started, about to start or is in the midst of exam season.

It causes stress, manifested in a variety of ways …

anger or tears,
insatiable or absence of an appetite,
sweating or freezing,
insomnia or exhaustion.

The one thing that all exams do is bring to the surface … stress.

For some there is so much riding on the exam … perhaps whether they pass or fail, whether they get that job promotion, or raise, whether they can move on in their studies or not.

3cb8ea67646ee947903be47ac2843dc1For some the risk of the exam is minimal (other than the physical and emotional stress received simply from having to write it).

I have watched students walk into an exam room looking as though they are walking to their own executions. I have observed the laying out of pens, pencils, erasers and calculator more methodically than the steps in disarming a bomb. I have watched the twisting and turning of hair, tongue and entire face as though possessed in a Poltergeist fashion.

They fret, they fear and the f-word that is most dreadful to them is failure.

I often wonder if we called an exam a quiz, would students perform better on it? They do have a very distinct way of viewing the importance of a quiz, a test and an exam.

My greatest memory of exam time was that if our marks were above a certain mark we did not have to write the final, whole year, exam. Let me tell you, that motivated me to keep my marks up all year long. As a student with not great retention of information that I would file as “will never use again in my life,” I was determined to avoid having to write finals (the mid-term exams which were not exempt-able, were enough to convince me to study).

Really we need to remember that it is just an exam. An imperfect, often inaccurate tool of assessment of learned materials. The most important assessment tool is life. I guess we could say it is not how we did on the exam, it is how we did handling the pressure as we prepared for and wrote it.

And soon, if not already, they will be done 😉

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As I watched the video below, I pondered the people who I pass in the hallways of the high school I work at each day.

What are they carrying?

How heavy, or light, is their load?

How are we able to keep going with the weight of what we each carry?

At what point does the weight of what we have packed within us, upon us, start to outweigh our ability to keep going?

HeavyLoad1

Hum, as I re-read the questions above, I just realized that my questions went from being about ‘they’ and ‘them’ to ‘we’ and ‘us’ …

Our human condition is such that we all live in a broken world, in broken bodies, in broken minds and abilities and so we share the weight of imperfect, unplanned, sin-filled lives, in a sin-filled world. It is here that we can all meet around the table, and have something to add to the subject of the sorrow in our suitcases.

Many of us have quoted the verse “God will not give you more than you can handle” (1 Corinthians 10:13), and responded with, “I just wish He did not trust me with so much.”

There have been times when I’ve wondered of myself, at what point does the bending lead to breaking? Will the stress and anxiety of today manifest through :

a disease?
a mental break?
sweating drops of blood?

There is one thing I know, it will not affect my love for, or my relationship with my God, my Heavenly Father. That is, He is, the Rock I stand on, and my footing is always secure with Him. He is the one who carries my suitcase full of brokenness … hurt, disappointment, shame, sorrow, and more.

He is the one who tells me to “cast (hand over) ALL of my cares (my suitcase full of sorrows) on Him” (1 Peter 5:7, Psalm 55:22).

The passage in Peter says, “… because He cares for you.”

The passage in Psalms says, “… and He will sustain you, He will never let the righteous be shaken.”

I cannot say I am always confident about the “shaken” part, because I have certainly felt shaken. But maybe that shaking comes not from my feet, which are on firm footing, but from my heart and my head that rely so on each other, rather than on the foundation beneath my feet …

It reminds me of the Footprints poem :

“One night I dreamed a dream.
As I was walking along the beach with my Lord.
Across the dark sky flashed scenes from my life.
For each scene, I noticed two sets of footprints in the sand,
One belonging to me and one to my Lord.

After the last scene of my life flashed before me,
I looked back at the footprints in the sand.
I noticed that at many times along the path of my life,
especially at the very lowest and saddest times,
there was only one set of footprints.

This really troubled me, so I asked the Lord about it.
“Lord, you said once I decided to follow you,
You’d walk with me all the way.
But I noticed that during the saddest and most troublesome times of my life,
there was only one set of footprints.
I don’t understand why, when I needed You the most, You would leave me.”

He whispered, “My precious child, I love you and will never leave you
Never, ever, during your trials and testings.
When you saw only one set of footprints,
It was then that I carried you.”

He carries not just our suitcase of sorrows, He also carries us.

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13-careers-for-the-next-decade

In our society today (and I expect in any society, at any time in history) there is an unwritten hierarchy of jobs and professions.

Of course the job of a doctor is more essential to our society than that of a garbage collector … until those garbage collectors go on strike, and garbage builds up in the streets, and rats are present in large numbers in our cities, and diseases begin to fun rampant.

Or that of a school administrator is more important than that of a school’s administrative assistant … what am I saying, everyone knows that those who work in the front offices of schools are the ones who really run the schools 😉 .

C.S. Lewis said,
“I reject at one and idea which lingers in the mind of some modern people that cultural activities are in their own right spiritual and meritorious-as though scholars and poets were intrinsically more pleasing to God than scavengers and boot lacks (shoe shiners).

… The work of Beethoven and the work of a charwoman (cleaning woman) become spiritual on precisely the same condition, that of being offered to God, of being done humbly ‘as to the Lord,’ ”
(The Weight of Glory)

What is it that makes us prioritize one person’s profession over that of another? What is it that makes one person’s job ‘essential’ and another simply supplementary to that more important role?

It makes me think of the scripture from 1 Corinthians 12:12-27 :

“Just as a body, though one, has many parts, but all its many parts form one body, so it is with Christ. For we were all baptized by one Spirit so as to form one body—whether Jews or Gentiles, slave or free—and we were all given the one Spirit to drink. Even so the body is not made up of one part but of many.

Now if the foot should say, “Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,” it would not for that reason stop being part of the body. And if the ear should say, “Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body,” it would not for that reason stop being part of the body. If the whole body were an eye, where would the sense of hearing be? If the whole body were an ear, where would the sense of smell be? But in fact God has placed the parts in the body, every one of them, just as he wanted them to be. If they were all one part, where would the body be? As it is, there are many parts, but one body.

The eye cannot say to the hand, “I don’t need you!” And the head cannot say to the feet, “I don’t need you!” On the contrary, those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, and the parts that we think are less honorable we treat with special honor. And the parts that are unpresentable are treated with special modesty, while our presentable parts need no special treatment. But God has put the body together, giving greater honor to the parts that lacked it, so that there should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each other.
If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it.

Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it.”

Each person has a job, like each part of our body has a role to play. One only needs to stub their toe, a part often ignored, to realize how very important that toe is to our balance and our walk. The key is not the value of one profession or job over another, the key is who we are doing the job for, and the effort we are investing in the accomplishing of it.

As I was writing this post, I was listening to Chuck Swindoll speaking on Joshua. He spoke of years ago watching a television broadcast of a Presidential address from Ronald Reagan and how he heard little of what the President said, because he was trying to make out the words on a brass plaque on the President’s desk. The next day his secretary was able to contact the White House and uncover the words :

“There is no limit to what a man can do or where he can go
if he does not mind who gets the credit.”

(Charles Edward Montague, English novelist and essayist)

Although those words deliver a good message, I would choose to re-write it, integrating into it the words of C. S. Lewis, as follows:

“There is no limit to what a man can do or where he can go
if he will offer it to God, doing it all humbly ‘as to the Lord.”

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