Peace, Joy and Hope

It was a simple, rustic plaque; a picture of me with my horse, Wendy, set inside a horseshoe cutout and the bending, curling of rope to fashion her name above it. I opened it and the tears spilled overcome by the love of a daddy wanting to give what he could for his daughter at Christmas.

Nothing shiny with sale tags dangling or gleaned from a department store shelf surrounded by mobs of holiday shoppers; one hardly acceptable by the world’s standards. But instead, a gift constructed from the calloused hands of a dad spending a late night out in his workshop in a worn flannel shirt bent over the swirling steam of his coffee cup. I imagined him sanding the wood. The tapping of the hammer, working love into every last detail and how he meticulously chose and cut out just the right picture and fit it in place, then with his own hands wrapped it up to rest alone beneath the tree.

I didn’t know about Hope back then…but Hope knew all about me. And He knows you too - even now; even when the peace and joy of Christmas seems overshadowed by the demands of it. The pressure builds on our shoulders when we think we have to follow society’s standards of what we should be doing simply because we’re only a twinkle away from that magical day.

My prayer is that you won’t let the reality of a harsh situation demand your peace, joy and hope this season. Your father has already given you the gift of His Son, and in that you already possess such things.

For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. (John 3:16) NIV

If peace hasn't found you this season, then create it by surrounding yourself with joyful people. Have faith and know that God is aware of your situation, and that He’s already working love into every last detail, meticulously constructing each element of His plan.

"Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance, perseverance, character; and character, hope.” (Romans 5:1-4) NIV

It Only Hurts When I Love

I don’t think I’ll ever understand the mystery that lies in the murky waters that flow and sometimes stagnate between mother and daughter.

There’s a significant transformation that takes place when the teen years set in that somehow morph a perfectly sweet, innocent, pony-tail bearing, giggly girl into a fire-breathing, venom-spewing, ulcer-inducing…..oh, sorry. Now you know how my morning went!

Whether a child, a spouse or any other person who owns a significant piece of your heart, it seems those we hold the closest also possess the power to hurt us to the core. Their love touches and grips like none other, yet also pierces the heart with jagged words that resonate deep within long after the door slams. It’s the kind of hurt that leaves you wounded, examining yourself and doubting your motives.

But I’ve come to understand and believe that the only way in which to overcome the hurt and ultimately undermine the one intent on inflicting pain is simply consistency:

• Consistency in our love
• Consistency in our reactions
• Consistency in our forgiveness
• Consistency in who we are as individuals

And so we know and rely on the love God has for us.

God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and

God in him. (1 John 4:16) NIV

“Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? As it is written: “For your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.” No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8:35-39) NIV

Lord Jesus,

I pray and ask that you would guard the hearts and minds of those often the target of defiance and pain. I pray that you would not allow hurtful tendencies of others to soil or tarnish the work you’ve begun in us. Equip us and help us to live consistently yours, strong in our beliefs, patient and bearing with one another, and not as martyrs quick to bear scars of resentment. Help us to consistently train up our children in the way they should go, and may we consistently look to you as we sometimes strive to love the unlovely. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

He Listens For Your Voice Too

You think you’re all alone in the middle of your worry.

The middle of your grief and anguish.

You’re sure He’s turned the volume down on your prayer time too, that He couldn’t possibly know the battle you’re facing and the frustration it brings.

It’s too big – too loud.

You think He’s much too busy dealing with more pressing affairs of the world to care about your demons.

You think He doesn’t see your eyes wide open in the dark of night while the rest of the house sleeps; when the knot in your stomach tightens and the little voices pierce the silence with fear and doubt.

You’re certain your little breath prayers throughout the day well up from that turmoil within and spill into the air only to mingle with a hundred others.

Even the comfort of well-meaning friends rings of trite consolation as they search for that one little phrase that will somehow fix it all and smooth out your rocky road. Perhaps they quote a scripture you’ve heard a thousand times or offer a quick prayer, then meekly shrug their shoulders as if their little offering bag is now empty – that’s all there is.

Yet…it’s… ALL… you… need.

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you,

for my power is made perfect in weakness.”

Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my

weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.

(2 Corinthians 12:9) NIV

What else are we to do as Christians?

Where else should we turn but to the Word of God?

Where else should we go but to our knees?

I am the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last,

the Beginning and the End.

(Revelation 22:13) NIV

There’s no point at which we’re to stop speaking the scriptures or praying through our storm. Our God was, is and always will be the One who guides and loves us through it all. His Word will always hold the power, the answers and the comfort.

When darkness settles on your world and you find yourself on that narrow road, you haven’t really lost your way. The light is there! Simply open your eyes and run to the light of the Lord.

Always…to the light of the Lord.

God Bless you today and every day.

I'm Thankful for the Music

David and all the Israelites were

celebrating with all their might before

God, with songs and with harps, lyres,

timbrels, cymbals and trumpets.

(1 Chronicles 13:8) NIV

I’m taking a diversion from my regular bloggy-type posts today to confess there’s a song that plays in my head constantly…actually, it rattles my fillings. You wouldn't recognize it. It has no real name, yet it flows on jagged sound waves from my dining room each morning at 7:30am…sharp.

From the well-worn pages of the beloved Arban’s rigorous workout for trumpets, my husband serenades each new dawn with my personal favorite, exercise #15, before moving on to Haydn’s Concerto. He throws in a taste of Bolero, some “…doggy in the window…” (for our two fur-bearing buddies) or maybe even a little mariachi tune, depending on his mood, and likes to wrap things up with either The Old Rugged Cross or My Tribute.

Various guitars, banjos, a piano, trumpets and more trumpets, even a flute, saxophone and baritone have become as cherished family members over the years. They each serve a purpose in our home. They all bring joy (even when they’re safely tucked away in their cases).

Actually, I’m very thankful for the gift of music; the way it reaches in and soothes the soul…or injects a burst of John Philip Sousa into a perfectly nice morning as I inch my coffee cup closer to my lips.

I’m grateful for a husband who has shared his love of music and his abilities with our children since they were old enough to hold an instrument. Way back then, I had no idea we would be a band-geek family, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

I’ve probably complained more than necessary over the years about the lack of peace and quiet in my home (hence, the blog), especially now that our parrot has also joined in our “family band” with some random opera song that smacks of Ethel Merman on steroids! Please, stop the madness!

Honestly, I love my band-geek, drum-corps loving, marching band family and the music that fills our lives. My mom-heart overflows each time my kids take the field, suited up, shined up and confident. With pride, I watched my son receive the Louis Armstrong Award for his trumpet abilities last year. I’ve smiled with pride each Sunday for the past 9 years as he has sat next to my husband in church playing with our worship team. And I love that my daughter can switch from mellophone to flute to saxophone depending on the season. But the best instrument of all? The one that plays in my mind that reminds me of the bonds, the friendships and the memories created and bound together by the love of music.

Check out my original version/venting session in “Confessions of a Trumpet-Player’s Wife” at Halftime Magazine…

http://halftimemag.com/articles/web-exclusives/personal-confessions/confessions-of-a-trumpet-players-wife.html

Son-In-Your-Eyes Sunday

In keeping with the spirit of the season, I’d like to offer a gift to each of you who are kind enough to spend a few minutes of your day with me. I want to share “a few of my favorite things” each Sunday during the month of December. If you haven’t visited these great sites, you’re missing out on some real comfort food for the heart.

So, keep the Son in your eyes today, melt into a quiet moment with a great cup of coffee and enjoy these treats for the soul:

Mothers on Mission

http://mothersonmission.blogspot.com/

A Softer Voice

http://asoftervoice.blogspot.com/2010/11/stepping-stones-to-glory_28.html

Heart to Heart with Holley

http://blog.dayspring.com/

A Holy Experience

http://www.aholyexperience.com/

Deflated

My front yard looks like a boneless chicken ranch during the day. Little mounds of color lie heaped on the lawn still, lifeless and begging for CPR. Perhaps I have a few too many inflatable yard decorations; some that sort of scream “Christmas!” plus one blow-up nativity scene.

I really grappled with that one in the store when I bought it last year. Am I insulting Christians everywhere with my plug-in nativity? I thought. It’s a definite conflict of interest for me to stick a Santa Claus on my lawn, and my nativity scene options were very limited.

It’s kind of cool watching Joseph, Mary, baby Jesus and the 3 wise men all spring into action at the flip of the power strip. But honestly, my heart sinks a bit when I have to pull the plug each night before going to bed only to watch them all crumble and give in to gravity.

So, when I went out last night to unplug the yard, I stood in my robe and slippers thinking how easy it is to feel a little deflated this time of year when our emotions are a little more acute than normal.

Played against the backdrop of Christmases past and the expectations of ones yet to come, we try to keep a handle on our time, our finances, our moods and our waist line! We vow not to let ourselves get run down, used up, overextended, affected by hurtful comments, and the list goes on. From every angle we’re reminded of the importance of keeping Christ in the season and to “follow” Him.

But…what does it really mean to follow Jesus not only through this season, but all year long?

I think it means when the worry creeps in, and the sadness overwhelms, before the harsh words are spoken, or the anger snaps its sharp teeth, or when our dark days seem to run together in an endless strand, we stop and recognize the giver of such things and learn to reject all that is not of our God. When we refuse to fall into the chaos of the enemy and choose instead to take that deep breath, we fill our lungs with the power of the One who breathed life into us right from the start. We turn to the scriptures because they heal and guide and comfort. They remind us of the peace only found in Him…the peace available to us all if only we would ask…sort of like flipping the switch.

“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.” (Gen. 2:7) NIV

The Top of My Christmas List

I used to spend day and night out there with bucket and trowel in hand walking the triangle between garden, greenhouse and compost pit until I nearly wore a path in the grass. Only when night settled did I succumb to the darkness and head inside at a reluctant pace.

It wasn’t the greenhouse structure itself I found so enticing – it was the wonderful rich smell of moist earth, compost, and life in its beginning stages as I nurtured fragile seedlings and cherished memories.

I know it’s strange to be thinking about a greenhouse in December (unless you’re into growing poinsettias), but several months ago I wrote about how my year is divided into two seasons; gardening and holidays! It’s true!

Honestly – I know me, and it’s the same story each year. Even before I'm through picking Christmas ham out of my teeth, I feel that familiar pull to get back in the dirt. Back on my knees in the garden. Back to the essence of who I am; just a gal who grew up in the mountains with animals, a barn and small-town ways who still needs time on her knees digging in the dirt to feel renewed and alive.

Life pulls, tugs, demands and expects. It’s important to find that one thing we can plug into that revives us to our full self…(if only those little recharging mats for your hand-held gadgets came in “frazzled-mom” size…hmmm…).

So this year, it’s more of a feeling that tops my Christmas list. It’s that reconnection with peace, where I feel the sun on my back and the soil between my fingers (almost year-round in my climate). It’s the song of my corner fountain and the busy little finches who share my space. It’s remembering when the kids were young and how we started our entire vegetable garden from the greenhouse; the early-morning scouting through furrows in bare feet and Spiderman pajamas…no, not me – my son! It’s remembering his big brown eyes looking through a tiny pair of glasses perched on his nose when he discovered the masses of zucchini hidden beneath giant leaves, and my daughter’s honey-colored ringlets framing her sleepy face as she followed big brother through swaying corn stalks.

It all began in the greenhouse, the wonder of simple pleasures – the memories still cherished.

Lord,

Thank you for the simple things our hearts seem to hold on to with the tightest embrace. Let us realize and enjoy the sweetness in those simple moments this season, and may we give thanks to you for each one. Amen.