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Posts Tagged ‘Creator’

images-2Hum, this is a little awkward, but this guest post might be a little too … gritty for some of you.

This guest post is by a writer whose blog I have just recently subscribed to. She writes poignantly about whatever she chooses, often dealing with some of the daily plights that females might face.

The post I am providing a link to, today, is called Girl.

Girl reads something like a diary entry, written by a teenage girl. It is specific enough in it’s detail to let the reader understand the heart of this girl, yet leaves enough ‘holes’ where there is an absence of details to make you wonder.

As I read it I thought of the teenage girls I pass in the halls of the high school I work, every. day.

I thought of individual girls … girls who fake confidence … girls who ‘look’ tough … girls whose eyes … don’t … look.

Girls who struggle to fit. anywhere. with anyone.

Girls who were once …

cradled in their mother’s arms

cheered as they took their first steps

wondered at the bean seed they planted

smiled proudly as they were applauded at Christmas concerts

giggled with their girlfriends while swinging higher on the playground

What happened?

What is happening?

To our girls.

I say this as a mom who delights in the whimsical, beautiful, confusing, frustrating, magical, wonder-filled packages of hormone-filled females that my daughters are.

I say this as woman who works in a high school, and I see girls who are losing … have lost, all that they were created for.

I say this as a Christian woman, who knows that my breaking, broken heart for this beautiful creatures is breaking and broken like their Creator.

They were created for

SO MUCH MORE!

So, some of you might not want to click on the link I have provided today.

It might be too gritty.

It might be too upsetting.

But, I believe, it is the social justice issue that never gets mentioned, has always existed, and is within the power of all of us living in the First World to improve, impact, and maybe even … change.

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photo-3In my work position I get to introduce students to various workplaces.

We work together, sharing the experience.

Lately the experience has been at a greenhouse, where we have deadheaded, pruned and attached bug packs to hydrangea plants and rose bushes.

On one day we were working in the greenhouse filled with short and long-stemmed roses. I could not wait to get into that greenhouse! I had driven by numerous times, wondering how delightful it must be in such an lush and warm environment. I had imagined the heady scent of thousands of blossoms, and colors to brighten even a gray, rainy Pacific Northwest day.

What I got were scratched hands.

The thorns were out to get me. They scratched the skin, they poked my flesh, they even left remnants into my epidermis to fester days later (see those bad boys in the photo to the right! Downright nasty!).

The thorns became my focus once I started through the rows of roses, getting scratched and pricked. I was grumbling under my breath, wincing with each sharp contact. Soon I was not considering the plants as roses at all, but just rows of thorns, and enemies as well.

Then, in irritation, I raised my head, to peer above the thorns …

photo-1

… and everything changed.

The thorns, the scrapes, the scratches, the punctured skin were all forgotten in a vision of beauty, glorious beauty.

Row on row of perfect white roses standing straight and tall, reaching for the heaven, as if that is what they were created to do …

And it hit me, that is what they were created to do … grow up towards the light, the source of energy for the rose.

And that is what we are created to do … grow and increase in energy by focusing on the light created by and through our Creator, Savior.

It is when our eyes drift away from our Creator that the thorns begin to prick and invade our days and our lives. God is the one who lifts our head, and shows us the beauty of the roses, despite a few thorns … and we all have thorns.

“He told me,

“My grace is enough; it’s all you need.
My strength comes into its own in your weakness thorn.”

Once I heard that, I was glad to let it happen.
I quit focusing on the handicap thorn and began appreciating the gift roses.
It was a case of Christ’s strength moving in on my weakness thorns.”
2 Corinthians 12:9-10

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As I entered the quiet room, I flicked on the light … no movement.images

I moved the blankets, still warm with the heat of his body, down off his chest … still no movement.

This man-boy sleeping before me is completely without movement, even the rise and fall of his chest with life-sustaining oxygen is almost indiscernible.

Waking my son recently gave me a birds eye view of the effects of God breathing life into man and woman.

When I entered his room he was completely unaware of my presence, of the bright lights being turned on, or that I had moved his blanket off of his upper body. He lay on his bed motionless, even the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed was almost without motion.

When we sleep our breathing slows immensely, because our muscles and organs are not needing large amounts of oxygen in their resting state. As our breathing slows, our body’s processes slow, it is as though the life within us were hibernating. We are still fully alive, yet we are not fully living our life.

Some of us live our daily lives as though we are still in that hibernating state of sleep. Our bodies function, we do all that is needed to be done in order to sustain our existence, yet we live as though we are asleep, our organs functioning, but not as though we are fully awake … not as though we are fully living our lives.

As I worked at stirring my son, the moment of his waking was discernible. He inhaled a deep and audible breath, and as that first breath of the day was entering his lungs, signs of life were also discernible in his body. His eyes moved behind the veil of his lids, his limbs moved and he stretched his body, as though making more room for the oxygen entering his lungs.

His awakening, heralded by his intake of the first big breath of the day stirring every cells in his body to be fully awakened, fully alive.

This is the freshness of each new day, of each new year. To take in the breath of life given to us by our Creator, and to make our days, our years, our lives worthy of the gift He has given.

“Then the Lord God
formed a man
from the dust of the ground
and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life,
and the man became a living being.
(Genesis 2:7)

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It’s that time of year again … School picture time!

These are the photos that, no matter how nice the clothes, no matter how clean the hair, no matter how rested you feel the photos will always look worse than the year before. But maybe I am just speaking of my own experience!

When my two school-aged kids brought theirs home, I looked at them not as the one who had them taken, but as their mom.

When I looked at the photo of my son, I saw the baby we had prayed would make it through pregnancy, the one who used to want a snuggle after school, the one who says ‘I love you’ every day. I saw a young man who loves football, his dad, his friends, his music and God. I saw it all in the blink of an eye and thought, this is good, oh, how he has grown to be like his dad!

Then I looked at the photo of my youngest daughter, and I saw the baby who did not stop crying until she was two years old, I saw the toddler who wanted a play date plan before her eyes were opened every morning, I saw the girl who knew how to make people smile, and who never sees differences when she meets someone new. I saw a beautiful young woman who loves people of all ages, animals, thinking about the future and her Heavenly Father. I saw it all and thought, this is good, I can see me in those eyes.

It took me back to when her grade two pictures came home, and then and there I saw within this child who everyone said looked just like her dad (including me), a reflection of me. For all those first seven years of her life I figured I had merely been the vessel that got her here, but that day I saw something of myself in her image. Actually it was almost a mirror image of my own school photo at the same age.

I remember so well looking at her photo that day and searching for my own to compare my memory with the reality of looking at her photo and mine. Once I found it, the similarities were astounding to me. This child, this child who I thought my only contribution to her being was in housing her growing unborn body, looked so strikingly like me. I stared in amazement and although I had always looked upon her image as beautiful, now I looked upon her image with awe, and with a new joy. She reflected me! She was undeniably mine!

My daughter has always been, since conception, an image of me, but there was something about seeing it with my own eyes that gave me delight.

I wonder if that is what God feels (delight) when He looks at us, His children. We have always been, since the beginning of time, an image of our Creator, but He sees Himself in us when we reflect who He is, His love, His mercy, His grace, His compassion. And when He sees, not only the physical reflection of His image, but the reflection of His being, His heart, He, like me with my daughter, delights in His Creation. And maybe He whispers, “you are good” as He did after each act of Creation.

“So God created mankind in his own image,
in the image of God he created them;
male and female he created them.”
Genesis 1:27

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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.

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