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Archive for the ‘GOD’ Category

My first thoughts when I awoke this morning were I don’t know if I can walk to the bathroom, and I need coffee. The two thoughts go together too.

Yesterday, for the first time in over a month, I walked my favorite trail … all of it. It took over two hours, and it was great (it was great to be done, maybe not so great while doing it 😉 ). The weather was hot and humid, the trail was full of walkers and bikers, and we did it … my beast and I.

The poor beast was panting hard on the second half of our walk. Just as her tongue was dripping from her hard panting, I was sweating like a stuffed pig on a spit (was a pretty pair we must have been).

On our first half we did take a few breaks, so that the beast wouldn’t collapse on me (of course there was no danger of me collapsing … ). We would walk down to the rivers edge (which was much farther out than a month ago. Heck it was much farther out than I had ever seen it) so that she could cool off in the water, and get a drink at the same time.

There were many people standing on the rivers edge, fishing. It was a day to be out, a day for people to enjoy what might be a last day of Indian summer. A day to enjoy the beauty and wonder of nature … the sun, the fresh air, the leaf laden trees, and all of the other beauties outside.

As we turned started our second half, we were confronted by the sign to the right … that did not make for a confident walk back! Seriously, I did not need that! I already have paranoid thoughts whenever I am walking in the wilderness (like down my street) about being chased by a bear … I did not need confirmation that they were actually in the same area that I was in! What made it worse was that, shortly after seeing that bright and foreboding sign, I saw a tail on the pathway (and I am sure that it was not there when I passed that way just moments before). A squirrel’s tail … without the squirrel! I was now in a desperate state. So, I did what any well-adjusted, mature, woman in my right mind would do … I texted a picture of the sign to hubby, so that he would know how I died. And his response … was about a half hour later! I could have been bear poop by the time he responded! So much for sensitive, hubby!

Alas, the beast and I did survive the potential of a bear attack 🙂 .

But then, just as I was feeling as though we were safe from calamity, my beast started making all of the signs of needed to poo. And I, of course, was ready! As she squatted, I untied the poo bag from her harness (I know making her wear her poo bags is the equivalent of me wearing toilet paper around my neck, out in public … but, she is a very self confident dog). And when I started to put the bag over my hand … there was a hole in it … at the end (where my middle fingers would be … yuck). Alas, I was like a girl scout, and was prepared for anything! I had two bags! So, I doubled up, scooped up, tied up and we continued on.

We had a very uneventful second half of our walk (minus the anxiety-provoking sign and hole in the poo bag incidents). I am not sure which of us started to sprint-walk once the van was in site, but I know that both the beast and I were overwhelmingly thrilled to see it. The beast settled into the back seat, and did not move again until we got back home.

And we both slept well that night … with our minds full of the beautiful visions of our walk, and the sense of accomplishment of doing something that allowed us to exercise and enjoy the beauty of creation.

And my aching body … it pales in contrast with how wonderfully my soul feels.

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Like all people, I have had ups and downs. There are times when life is lived with exclamation marks, and times when it is lived with question marks. There are times of struggle and there are times when struggles seem a million miles away. There are times when we desire to live forever, and times times when we beg the Creator to take us now (I think I must have been reading Ecclesiastes lately).

Have you ever noticed that when things are going well, you rely on others less? It’s because your needs are simple, and can be met all by yourself … you don’t need anyone for anything.

And then when things are really not going well, we need others, we need help. But, for me, even if I need and even want to rely on others, I struggle to know who and how to ask for help. Heck, I struggle to even recognize that there is help out there.

I was reminded of this the other night when hubby and I were out to a restaurant for dinner. As we were talking to our server, she mentioned that she was having pain in her back, that had been keeping her from sleeping at night. When I mentioned a product that I had found to be helpful in the past, she said, “of course! I have used that in the past. I guess I was thinking so much about the pain, I couldn’t think of a cure.”

As she continued talking, I found my mind thinking about her statement, “I was thinking so much about the pain, I couldn’t think of a cure.” And I found myself thinking, isn’t that how it is when we have pain … any pain, in our life? When we hurt, physically, emotionally, spiritually … in any way, the pain takes over our thinking, our reasoning, our troubleshooting  abilities. And we often fail to see the cure, the help, the solution for the pain (or at least ways to ease or lessen it).

When our pain is not a physical pain, we need a pain reliever that is specifically suited for that need. What we have to do to relieve our non-physical pain, is to allow ourselves to be held, to be embraced by someone … bigger, stronger.

For a child, there is no greater pain relief than the warm embrace of his or her mother, and father. It always amazed me how my child’s tears would disappear when I held them. In the same way our spiritual father can wipe away our tears, when we allow ourselves to be taken in by his warm and loving embrace.

Just like when I hold my suffering child, the holding may not take the suffering away. But what being held by creator God does, is that it allows one who is so much stronger, so much bigger, to hold us, comfort us and soothe our weary hearts. His arms around us, His presence in our lives reminds us that the Creator of heaven and earth cares about our heart aches.

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Last weekend I had a glimpse of simplicity, of relaxation, of down-time. And what flowed out of me in the quiet of the unhindered hours of that Saturday morning was far more creativity than I had experienced in a very, very long time.

It has made me think about how I live my life, and how I encourage and allow my children to live their lives. But, more specifically, how we construct our days, our weeks. What we fill our hours with. What we ‘do’. And what we consider to be relaxation, simplicity and down-time.

Although not just in the context of Christian living (but certainly, to a large degree, a huge factor in the Christian community), Christians tend to live as though we are fearful of uncommitted time. As though down time is, in itself, a sin. As though every moment of every day needs to be filled to the brim doing … ‘stuff’. But, I just do not believe it!

When my brain is empty of immediate pressures, commitments, and expectations … it is then that my heart and my soul are able to play a greater role. It is then that I can create. It is then that I can love better, plan better … live … better.

Today I was reading Genesis 1 and 2 to a young girl from China. Her English was limited, and her Biblical familiarity lacking. So, as I read the story to her, I explained each of the six days of creation.

And then we came to day seven … and Godrested

Well, if that is not enough encouragement for us to take a break once in a while (maybe once a week? … just sayin’) I cannot imagine better!

But, you know what else I realized … God had probably been resting before he started the process of creating. And look what he was able to pull off having had a rest!

Now, I am not legalistic when it comes to sabbath rest … heck, for my hubby, who is a pastor, Sunday is NOT a day of rest. I am okay with grocery shopping, working, and playing cards (something my poor grandmother used to feel guilty doing on a Sunday) … if doing those things, on a Sunday, allow for Sabbath rest at another time in the week. But, I do believe that if the God who put the heavens and the earth together (in whatever form He chose to do it in) chose to rest one day out of seven, then we, mere mortals, could probably benefit too.

Try it! Try taking a day (for some, start small … just take half of a day … ) and enjoying Sabbath rest. Do things that make you smile, do things that allow you to stop and smell the roses, do things that fill your energy cup, do things that make your creative juices bubble, do … nothing.

See if taking a selfish break, from that endless ‘To Do’ list, makes you better at what you do the next day.

 “he blessed the seventh day and made it holy,

because on it he rested

from all the work

of creating

that he had done.”

Genesis 2:2-3

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Today we went to the Hopewell Rocks ( http://www.thehopewellrocks.ca/ ). I vaguely remember going there last when I was about ten years old, and , although I remember thinking it was cool, I do not really remember much else. And so it was high on my ‘to do’ list for this trip.

It is a cool place of red stone, magnificently formed ‘flowerpots’ (often called this because they rise out of the sand and stones, many feet into the air, with plant life growing on top of them), fossils and tides that rise and fall as much as fifty feet, two times each day. It is believed that it is the location of a mountain range that surpasses the size of the western Rockie Mountains. All that to say, it is a beautiful place of wonder.

My dad and I met my brother, his wife, her son and friend there. It was as we were walking through the wooded pathway that I was reminded just how very treed New Brunswick is (it is the Canadian province with the highest percentage of trees per square km … so really, there should be more tree huggers here than in BC). And not only treed, but moss covered trees … so hauntingly beautiful (Dad thinks they are spooky). And not the green stuff on trees in British Columbia, but a dry white-gray moss … it almost looks like the tree is graying.

At the end of the trail is the metal staircase that leads you to the ocean floor. I am confident that it was the same staircase that had been there when I was there as a child. It is narrow, and the ability to see through the stairs to the bottom keeps many peoples heart rate up (I heard countless numbers of people giving others the advice to ‘don’t look down.’)

Once you are on the ocean floor, to say you feel miniscule is an understatement. The floor that you walk is is more stoney than sandy. And it is red’ish in color. It is easy to see the usual heights that the tides bring the water to, by the wear of the rocks all around.

There are crevices that are marked to not trespass into (and I certainly don’t know of any that might have trespassed 😉 ).

When we arrived there was a guy playing beautiful music, and we discovered that he was there with others planning  for a wedding in the weeks to come. What a perfect, unique and beautiful place for a wedding to remember … for the couple and all of their guests.

I was glad that I wore runners, as the beach was not easy to walk on. But others had also been wise, in wearing sandals that allowed them to walk out onto the mud nearer to the water. The mud of the Bay of Fundy has always made me think of quicksand. It just looks like it could swallow a person in moments.

At high tide, (every twelve ‘ish hours) the beach is cleared of people and filled with muddy water.

Once we left there we took a rather long and curving road to a place I had never been to before (my dad says he had never been there before either). It is a place called Cape Enrage (http://www.capeenrage.ca/) and it has nothing to do with a woman with PMS. The lighthouse there has been there for over one hundred and fifty years (imagine that friends from the west coast, where everything over fifty years old gets torn down). Thanks to the progress of technology, and specifically GPS, the lighthouse is no longer in use (since 2000, when it was decommissioned).

It is another beautiful place where tides come and go at amazing rates, and geological finds are readily to be found.

There is a contest going on, and if you go to http://www.new7wonders.com you can read about this contest, to, by popular vote, contribute to the new list of the 7 Wonders of the World. The only Canadian entry, of the twenty-eight, world-wide, is the Bay of Fundy.

I know I am maybe a bit prejudice 🙂 but I do think it deserves to be among the world’s seven. If you agree, I encourage you to go to http://www.votemyfundy.com and vote! It is that easy, and kids can vote to.

Truly this was another wonderfilled day in New Brunswick!

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Morning number two … of vacation, in this heavenly place.

My internal alarm goes off at 6:43am … it has obviously been adjusted to va-ca time, as it more frequently starts to go off before six. I hop out of bed, and am reunited with my sweats in the bathroom, where I prepare for the day without a ‘plan’ that I am conscious of … I am simply responding to the call.

At 6:53am, I kiss hubby, and tell him I am going out for a walk.

Less than a minute later, my feet move my body as though they are moving towards and with an invisible force. A force that is calling me from my insides … out. It it an inaudible, but undeniable call, and there is nothing within me that desires to ignore it’s persistent force.

I reach the beach, and want to run with everything within me. My heart feels as though it might burst through my chest, with eagerness to reach the destination faster. I feel a need to consciously, but wordlessly, remind my pulsating legs of the pain that running a little over a year ago caused, and how my meniscus would not allow that … but I am sure that even my knees were joining in the call for a physical response of eagerness to the call.

I reach the edge of the water, the waves crashing onto the coast, seagulls crying out all around me, and my soul is singing “Creation Calls” as tears fall, without sorrow down my cheeks.

Then, after a time of songs and sighs, I move on … the call continues.

This call has existed for me ever since our first summer here, four years ago. Actually, it existed far before then, far before I was born. But the metaphor it provides for my visual-learner being stirs such an innate need to fulfill it’s call on me.

As I move down the beach, I feel such an excitement with each step closer I get to it. I increase my speed, as I just want to be there, to reach out and touch it, symbolizing my need to go to it, to be close to it, to physically touch it to confirm my reliance on reaching out to it.

And then, I am almost there, and my pace slows, and I feel the need to just absorb the process of each step. And I am fully awake, and the call is no longer forcing itself on me, but I am conscious, completely aware and choosing to make each step. It is not longer the innate call that brings me there, but an act fully of my will.

And I reach out,

and I touch The Rock.

And although all of Cannon Beach, and it’s visitors, call it Haystack Rock, I just call it The Rock. And when I reach my fully human hand out, each year, to touch it’s barnicle-covered surface, I am reaching out my heart, as an act of my will, to recommit, and reconnect with The Rock.

The rain came down, the streams rose,

and the winds blew and beat against that house;

yet it did not fall,

because it had its foundation on the rock.”

Matthew 7:25 NIV

OR

“Hurts happened, disappointments came,

Then, when you thought it couldn’t get any worse,

all hell broke loose.

but, you were not destroyed,

because you were planted, not just on, but in,

The Rock”

Matthew 2:25 CS-WV

(Carole Smith-Wheaton version)

“How can I say there is no God, when all around creation calls …”

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Finally, after ten months of school, and then spending June and July working at a second job, I am able to really enjoy my garden!

Yesterday I spent the day in the garden. I was pruning, and mowing, and trimming, and watering, and weeding, and feeding. It was glorious! I got filthy dirty (I do not even seem to be able to water my flowers without getting dirty), and used muscles that ached the next day (heck, they ached as they were being used), and not one minute of it seemed like work.

Truly my day was all about recreation.

As I was out in the fresh air, and sunshine (oh, and how we have waited for sunshine in this area … unlike most of North America which has been hot and dry), I enjoyed only the noises of the birds, the squirrels and my neighbors little grandchildren. I attained great satisfaction, for jobs finally caught up on, and great head space at just being quiet for the better part of a day.

It is so thrilling to see the evidence of my blood, sweat and tears in the garden. I love to watch the contents of bulbs and tuber emerge from the soil. I love to watch a rose bud open slowly, day by day, and then produce it’s visual beauty and delightful scent, that can reduce stress in one whiff. I love to see each year the new growth of the boxwoods I had planted, simply by slicing off a branch of a larger one, and sticking it into the earth. I love to watch the lilies grow taller and taller each day, trying to guess which color they are, until finally they open up to reveal the beauty within. And oh, how I love to see the springtime buds on the grapevine, emerge into tendrils that reach far from where they began, to be followed by the minute clusters of ‘baby grapes’ that, like a newborn baby, grow bigger every day of summer, until they are finally mature, and ready to be tasted.

I love my garden!

But, I don’t love everything about my garden. There are irritants and pests there too. Like dandelions! I have been on a mission for two summers now, to rid my back garden of the weed. When I have the time, and have my trusty week puller thingy in hand, I am like a can of raid on ants! And, my persistence is working (if you ever drive by, you will know that I have not transferred this persistence to my front garden).

Then there is the slug … evil personified! Not only do they love to eat the lovely green leaves on my flowers, but if I come in contact with their slime, it is like some kind of gel crazy glue. It won’t come off easily, and sticks to everything in it’s path … even my ever-curious beast won’t go near them. Of course they do provide great entertainment when i get out my salt shaker!

And then there are aphids … who are on a constant mission to ruin my deeply loved rose plants. Every spring I will be marveling at how beautiful the fresh new leaves on my roses look, and then, there they are. Those tiny little green buggers … nibbling away at my fresh leaves like a teenage boy at an all you can eat buffet. Truly they give me reason after reason to love ladybugs … who think aphids are just the most marvelous treat … hum, note to self : go purchase ladybugs today.

My garden is where I am Mother Nature, and my goal is to protect everything I love within my garden … it is truly a place where I am a mother hen figure. But, I am sadly not able to protect my green ‘babies’ all of the time.

It is really my place in this world of understanding the beauty of our creation, of understanding the complexities of surviving and thriving, of understanding how evil and destruction can come our way due to no action of our own, and understanding how very much we the created are loved by the Creator.

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It was unexpected that I would awaken on Sunday morning with a migraine. I used to have those most dreaded headaches  W  A  Y  back in my early thirties. But, as I headed closer and closer to forty (like a freight train out of control, barreling down the tracks) they gradually dissipated, and disappeared.

I always felt very fortunate that I was never sick to my stomach, or needed to go to the hospital for stronger relief. I simply would take Ibuprofen, and go to bed, to sleep it off (of course my kids were ten years younger then, so it was not so easy to just go to bed).

So, when I awoke on Sunday morning, with a mental to do list, I was floored … almost literally! As the radio alarm went off, and my brain kicked into wake up mode, I knew it would not be easy to open my eyes.

I staggered as far as the back door in our kitchen, to let the beast out to do her morning thing, praying all the while that a squirrel wouldn’t divert her attention, and force me to maintain my vertical position for any longer than necessary. Thankfully she returned to the confines of our home, and I returned to the confines of my room, where the Ibuprofen is stored! Once an ample quantity was swallowed, I crawled back into bed, and told hubby I would be a no-show at church, and he would need to inform our lunch guests that they were uninvited (but I would reschedule).

Then, I rolled over, and slept … and slept … and slept … until 9:52am … that never  happens!

When I awoke, the migraine had been down-graded to a headache. So, I popped more Ibuprofen, and headed to the next best cure of a morning headache … coffee! Although it was physically painful to hear the beans being ground, the first whiff of it’s delightful scent made the pounding subside, all on it’s own!

As the sun was shining, and the birds were singing, I took my cup of brew to the back deck, where I could put my feet up, and close my eyes (funny how I headed to the light with a headache, but if you lived where I do, and were experiencing the ‘non-summer’ which was preceded by the ‘non-spring’ you would understand that, in this context, sunshine can always be enjoyed … but, I digress).

Soon after getting into position, out came daughter number one, followed by daughter number two, followed by only son. And it was good. We talked, we laughed, and not a form of technology was in sight! I needed this even more than I had needed the Ibuprofen and the coffee.

It amazes me how, when you need it most, and are not wise enough to acknowledge it, rest is provided … just usually not in the way we would like, or could plan. But when we need it, when every fiber of our being cries out for it, our bodies make it happen.

June is a busy month, but July is heaven, for those of us who go to, or work at a school. I usually find that the first week of summer break is family hibernation week. No one really seeks out socializing, we just cocoon at home … together. And I love it (what can I say, I am a natural at cocooning).

But, this year I am working through July, and, when I am home, I am still working … sending emails, making phone calls. So, our first week off together, was not … together, at all. One hot evening (I think there was only one or two last week), as they all hopped in the pool, I was still returning emails, and making calls, despite their invites and pleading to join them.

By the end of last week (Saturday night, to be exact) I was complaining bitterly to hubby that I was feeling a heap of ‘momma guilt’ for not spending time with our kids (other than bellowing out orders … consider this confession time …). He was not so sympathetic … seriously, men just do not get women (and this is news to me and you? I don’t think so!)! And made some comment about how our kids are not suffering for attention (which is true, but what he didn’t ‘get’ was that I was suffering … for time with my kids … he does usually get it when it is he, who I am suffering to spend time with … just sayin’).

So, Sunday morning, I got my hearts desire … just in a not so desirable way. My body said ‘STOP’ … and I did, because I had no choice. And, as I sat out on our deck, steaming coffee in hand, my heart swelled with thankfulness for the provision of time … unplanned, unscripted … not contrived by a human mind, but handed to me, to us, by a heavenly Father who hears the cries of my heart.

“O how marvelous! O how wonderful!
And my song shall ever be:
O how marvelous! O how wonderful!
Is my Savior’s love for me!”

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I have written a number of times about our pregnancy losses. The responses I have received to them, have indicated how very common, how very painful and how very life-changing they are on those who share such experiences.

Truly, to have experienced the loss of a yet to be born child can leave a permanent imprint on the hearts of those who loved that child even before he or she took it’s first breath.

Today, July 4, is the 20th anniversary, of the due date of our first child. One who died, in utero, around sixteen to eighteen weeks gestation. I admit that this date has rarely, except on the actual due date, had any significance for me. The date that I have more commonly remembered is January 21. And this past years anniversary was particularly significant.

For those who have experienced loss, any loss, the anniversary of that loss can be felt in many different degrees. Some years the date passes, and it is not until the day later, or even weeks later, that the significance of that date is remembered. Other years you remember it every moment of that day, and the days, and even weeks, surrounding the date.

This year was a little of both.

It was Thursday, January 20, and my family was having a jovial, sarcastic, humorous dinner together (in other words … a ‘normal’ dinnertime). As we were laughing, eating, re-creating the events of the day and sharing plans for the day to come, I stated “I can’t wait for tomorrow, I get to go to chapel!” You see I work in a Christian high school, and every Friday morning our school has ‘chapel’. I enjoy chapel, but I have not ever said that I was eager to go, so it was a rather odd statement for me to make.

The next day, Friday, January 21, I filed into the gym, with about five hundred other staff and students, as well as parents. I was feeling pretty good that day. Eager for a good work day, and for a time of school community worship.

The music began, and it was okay … nothing ‘wow’ish’, but it was good.

Following the worship time, and a few announcements, the speaker for the morning was introduced, a local pastor. I didn’t know him, had no connection to him. He started with prayer, and then addressed the scriptural reference point that he would be focusing on as he spoke … Matthew 6:19-24

… and my heart stopped

… and my palms became wet

… and my throat became so dry

… and my mind raced … what is today’s date?

… and I remembered …

… and tears fell against my will.

The reason for the emotional and physical reactions to the mention, and then reading of that scripture is that one night, as I slept, after the loss of our first child, I had a dream. The dream was of a man, I do not remember what he looked like, but I knew, with everything within me, that it was Jesus. And, in the dream, I handed a baby to Him … our baby. And Jesus looked into the wrapped up child, and His eyes were riveted to the tiny babe, and He smiled … that wonder-filled smile that we all smile, when we gaze into the face of creation. And then He looked at me, with such love, such compassion, such comfort, and He said “I will take care of your treasure for you, until you return. While you have this treasure, with me, in heaven, your heart will be here too.”

And, the dream was over.

And I opened my Bible, and found the passage, Matthew 6:19-21. And I knew that God had given me the confidence of His care for our child, and the promise that we would one day meet, and the comfort of knowing that our child was in even better hands, in heaven, than he or she would ever have on earth (even though we loved that child so much).

And that, for all of my days, I would live my life with my heart focused on the treasures that await me in heaven. And that our three earthly children would grow up knowing that as much as we, their parents, love them … God, in heaven loves them even more.

“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth,

where moths and vermin destroy,

and where thieves break in and steal.

But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven,

where moths and vermin do not destroy,

and where thieves do not break in and steal.

For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

Matthew 6:19-21

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Hanging on …

Yesterday I wrote a post about dealing with struggles, and when it was finished I realized that I was pretty good at speaking truth, and not so good at living it (aka. I wasn’t practicing what I was preaching). So, not wanting to be a hypocrite, I decided to take my own advice.

I knew I needed to get out, and have some undisturbed time … what mother of kids who live at home doesn’t desire that? Fortunately, one kid was out, and the other two were preoccupied with video games and the telephone … and kid number four (aka. hubby) was deeply engaged in a movie. So, I took a notebook, a pencil, a cup of tea and a towel (to dry off the outdoor chair I was heading for, as it had rained … (again).

I sat facing the bright, even warm, sun. This was fantastic, as last week was the first day of summer, and I am still very convinced that we have barely had spring! But, I digress!

The sun was beautiful, and the sky, although dotted with big white cotton ball clouds, was a spectacular bright blue. So I dried my chair, and snuggled in with my tea. I laid my head back and smiled … eyes closed. When I do something like this, I am reminded how infrequently I take the time to do … nothing, and how immediately responsive my body and mind are when I do. Hum, maybe our bodies and minds are created with a need for rest … not just sleep (which I am a big fan of) but rest … being still.

So, there I sat, the sun shining down on my, my body and mind becoming still. Then my eyes opened as I realized I did have a purpose in going out … I had my notebook and pencil. So, I stood, and turned my chair so that I was facing away from the sun (deep down, I was probably looking for a rainbow … it had rained earlier). Then I got my notebook out, and started writing praises.

Now, if you didn’t read my post yesterday, it was about those life moments when you feel like your life is hanging by a thread, when your ship comes in, but you are at the airport, when you’ve got just one nerve left and someone (heavy) is standing on it …

… when you are in the midst of struggle.

And I spoke of how when we are in the midst of struggle, we need to give up control and look to the only one who is in control for answers.

And, as I sat outside, the sun on my back, I did just that. But I went one step further … I cannot look on the God of my life, and not praise Him (hum, maybe that is what we were designed to do). So, I began to write down my praise to my God.

I started with His reminder to me … “Be still and know that I am God (I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth. Psalm 46:10).” And then, in no order (ha! ha! ha! … in my mind order is absent anyway) I wrote about what I was seeing … the bright blue sky, the brilliant green trees, plants and grass. I wrote about what I was hearing … the melody of a chorus of many kinds of birds, insects and squirrels.

Then I wrote of how hard it was to sit, and be still … I could weed, I could trim that grapevine, I could dead head my rose bush. No! I am here to worship, and be still! Then I wrote (page two) ‘I will praise you,’ and, for the next half hour I sat, and I wrote my hearts praises to God.

And I didn’t stop until, after over three pages of writing, I had a cramp in my right hand, from scribbling down on the paper. Over and over, what came to my mind, and I wrote on the paper were praises to God for what I know, in my head, He is. And, as I read my list over, I realized that I was praising Him for the things that were my struggle …

Over and over, what came to my mind were words of how God is my protector, my safety, my comforter. The very areas I was feeling needy. Obviously, what my mind knows (that God will protect me), I easily forget when I am trying to stay in control of the struggle of the moment.

But, I didn’t only learn that the cries of my heart are already being comforted by the Great Comforter … I also learned that the struggle cannot be hurried, and that to find comfort in struggle is even better that knowing the struggle is over.

You see, when I turned my chair from the sun, I was looking for a rainbow …

I wrote the following on my paper …

“My grapevine is reaching up, reaching out towards the sun, the light … it is beautiful! BUT I turn my chair so my back is to the sun, the warmth, the light, because I want to see the rainbow … the sign of the end of the struggle and the hope prayed for … I want to RUSH the reward …”

You know what? After about an hour of praising God, I got my reward … without the struggle being over yet. To have followed the leading to praise in the midst of the storm was far more rewarding than to know that the storm is over. One day, the storm WILL be over, but to have received God’s peace, and comfort in the midst of it is even better … because that is a miracle that could not have been achieved if I had been in control.

And from now on, no more searching for rainbows … like my grapevine, I’m looking towards the light.

God is in control, and I will praise Him in the storm.

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I can only remember seeing one rainbow, as a child. I know they occurred more often, I just am too archaic to remember seeing them! Or maybe, as a child there are so many wonders that catch your eye, a rainbow is just not all that exciting?

There is something about rainbows, about the wonder associated with them. They give hope.

There are two associations with rainbows that are most common. One is the association with a pot of treasure at one end of it. The other is that from the Biblical story of Noah, and the flood, and how the vision of the rainbow was one of hope of the future.

About eight years ago, I/we had an encounter with a rainbow.

You need a bit of background …

We were living in a great neighborhood, with great neighbors. But my house ‘wanderlust’ had set in … okay, that is wrong … MY house wanderlust is always present. Anyway hubby and I were away for a weekend in March … just the two of us (so sweet … and, although we were just away not even a month ago, I am ready to go again … my, I know how to digress!). While we were away, I made a declaration, “we need to find a place to live that is a refuge for you. A place where you can rest, relax, and ‘get away’ from the stresses of life.”

I can only think of three to four times in our marriage when I have made ‘a declaration’. And each time I did so, my jaw dropped, as I ‘heard’ what my mouth said, because it was not a thought that I had previously entertained. It was as though the words of my mouth were inserted by someone else.

A few weeks later, hubby and I agreed to ‘just look’ at a house that I loved. But when hubby called the realtor, it had already sold. So, hubby, decided to inquire about another, and got a date to go view it.

I was NOT excited to see this house. It was west coast contemporary … blech! I come from the east where houses are old and character-filled … contemporary might as well be the f-word in my mind. And worse, when we pulled up to the house, it was perched on a driveway, so steep, I was sure if a car was parked horizontally on it, it would tip over! But I LOVED the neighborhood! Less than eighty houses on tree-lined winding streets, with beautifully manicured lawns, tall trees, and all in a neighborhood that is so hidden away, there are people who have lived in our Township for many years that don’t even know it exists!

So, up the driveway we all (all five of us) climbed. Once at the top (and we caught our breath), we rang the doorbell, and were greeted by the realtor. We entered the house, and looked to the left, an enormous, but cozy, family room … I was adjusting to contemporary …

Then the rest of the house …

Then, the kids found the in-ground pool (which we more frequently call the albatross), and we saw the hot tub, and the so very secluded back yard!

We went back home, from this appointment to ‘just look’, with rose-colored glasses firmly on all five of our faces!

By 9pm, that night, we had hired a realtor, made an offer on the house, had it accepted, and had listed our own property …

(kids, this is NOT how to do this)

The decision was not an easy one, just an impulsive one. I remember so well hubby and I discussing what to do, and saying, ‘I just wish there could be … a rainbow in the sky … I don’t need writing in the sky, just a rainbow to indicate ‘go for it’ ” … but, alas nothing but clear blue sky. We went for it, anyway.

We had two conditions to the offer … one was a home inspection, and the other … selling our property.We were not worried about either. The inspection would be done by a professional, who we had used at an earlier time. The second should not have been an issue, because houses were selling before signs went up on the lawns! It was a sellers market, and we were confident!

The sign went up two days later, and the viewings began (and the fast food dinners began with the showings). After six days, we had had thirty-five showings, and our realtor wanted to sit down and talk (that is realtor talk for lets sit down and lower your price, because ten to fifty thousand dollars less off the selling price only affects him by ‘tens to hundreds’ of dollars … just sayin’). We sat down, and got the report. Our house was showing well, no negative comments, and priced well … this all sounded good. Then the predicted statement … ‘I think we should lower the price.’ But we were confident of our price, and held firm.

A week later, our resolve was weakening, as were were down to six weeks until closing, and the thought of living with two mortgages was unbearable.

Then, a last minute showing, where the realtor could not open the lock box, and we needed to let the viewers in, ourselves. They looked, they liked, and, by later that night, we had an offer … for the price we wanted 🙂

A couple of days later their home inspection, followed a few more days by the final paperwork!

We were cleaning up, after dinner, waiting for our realtor to come with that paperwork. As I rinsed the dishes I looked out to see a sun shower … such a cool thing to see! Then I ran to the front window (the one I had looked longingly out a couple of weeks prior, for my rainbow in the sky), confident that our ‘answer’ had arrived, and there it was … big and bright with one end near our home, and the other going in the direction of our new home.

I admit, despite the snickers of my kids (who have compared me to the ‘double rainbow’ guy from the world popular YouTube video … how many hours of combined labor did I go through to push their fat heads out into this world?), that I love rainbows. I love their colors, I love the possibility of there being a double rainbow, I love the hope that is re-birthed in the end of the rains.

There is wonder in the appearance of a rainbow, and that wonder re-ignites an innocence within me that makes me feel fresh and clean, and new, and gives me hope for the future.

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