Joy Comes With the Morning

I awoke early this morning in prayer, thinking of the day ahead and of all the quiet prayers of others; those quietly seeking…quietly desperate.

I wondered about all the requests made of the Father when we’re backed against the wall, down on our knees, or down in our spirit. And how He addresses each and every one. How we’re never really alone. He hears the prayers of those who seek comfort. Those who seek answers, healing, peace and grace.

Those who seek Him.

For his anger lasts only a moment, but his favor lasts a lifetime! Weeping may last through the night, but joy comes with the morning.

(Psalm 30:5) NLT

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=olzgYeMBlUY&feature=related

Behind the Blessing

Life is all about the choices, the decisions we make

AND our attitude in dealing with the consequences

or blessings of them.

She’s already in the vegetable garden when the rooster crows, out watering the yard or starting something on the stove. She rises with praise on her lips and her mind already thinking through the day stretched out before her; who could use a blessing today? Who could use a friend? A hug, a listening ear…a home-cooked meal? Always with an eye to the practical needs of others rather than herself.

“Therefore if you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from his love, if any common sharing in the Spirit, if any tenderness and compassion, then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and of one mind. Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others.”

(Phil. 2:1-4) NIV

She’s known dark days; times when she’s gone to her knees watering the garden with her tears, times of crying out to God when the pain and discouragement grip tight around her heart.

Yet, through it all, she’s held on to the hope, the promise of God’s Word – held on to truth and held on tight. She’s stood through the winds of uncertainty and challenge, loved through the storm of it all and remained firm in faith living out the attitude of her heart and sharing it with those around her. What blessings are those who are intent on blessing others despite their circumstances.

“Do not be deceived: God cannot be mocked. A man reaps what he sows.”

(Galatians 6:7) NIV

First Light

The garden called me out early this morning to the first light captured and held on flower faces. I caught them peeking heads up over the fence and inviting me in for the show.

I hurried over to see, to appreciate them in their purist form with rich, vibrant colors all dressed fresh and new because life blooming in its early stages, just like new-found faith, has to be nurtured and tended on a daily basis if it is to keep giving back. Sure as rain the weeds will come. Colors will fade and the soil will dry.

It's easy to see the beauty in the new and vibrant, when everything looks like a heart newly surrendered; like a new relationship with God in the beginning stages. But both require on-going attention - not a simple one-time "watering of the garden" only to leave it to thrive on its own.

Like newborn babies, crave pure spiritual milk,

so that by it you may grow up in your salvation,

now that you have tasted that the Lord is good.

(1 Peter 2:2-3) NIV

"Perfect"

I knew what it was when I saw it lying there beneath the rose bush. Beneath “Lucky’s” rose; the one we planted in his memory because it seems roses live longer than our dearest four-legged friends.

I picked it up. The wood all splintered and faded from the sun, and me with a tear and breath stilled as something so simple took me back a hundred summers, or so it seemed. I remember the day he painted it. How he worked so hard to get the lettering just right, and the colors to match the garden.

“Don’t look yet, Mom,” he spoke through a toothless smile and the tiny pair of glasses forever crooked on his young face.

I remember when it was finished and how his “Mom’s Garden” sign hung for years through rain and sun officially defining my little space…our special little space where it was ok to pluck seed heads, to clip spent blooms or gather small bouquets…to learn and explore and to grow the blessing of a mother-and-child bond right along with the flowers.

Elements have washed away the colors now, erased the little-boy lettering and the flower in pink with the green stem and the sun up in the corner. Yet the gift remains “perfect” in the splintered wood…I still see it. The sentiment and hard work of small hands streaked with garden soil.

Sometimes we strive toward a clouded image in our quest for “perfect” when there’s so much beauty in imperfection because that’s when God does his best work; lifting us out of the muck and mire. He cleans us up, wipes away our past and shines up our future until we’re a new creation…”perfect” in his eyes…perfectly his.

We live with the imperfect every day; our chipped paint, that mess in the corner, the clutter of our busy lives, yet the blessing is in the living. God bless the laughter and the memories and the moments unplanned…the beauty in the imperfect.

There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love.

(1 John 4:18) ESV

"Commit your way to the Lord..."

I battled a few dark clouds yesterday…..and won.

The Lord brought me to a quiet place just as the last rays of summer bronze melted down the black-eyed Susan vine. Just as the hum of a day spent in the shadows dissolved with the setting sun and flower heads in the garden turned down for the night.

That’s when I found my spot among the pillows on the couch with Oswald Chambers’ “My Utmost for His Highest” open and full of hope and promise across my lap. The words – I read them twice – they jumped from the page and into my heart and I knew it was of the Lord; His comfort and His answer yet again just when I needed it most. Me useless and wavering and Him faithful once again. After a day of lifting weak arms; whispering, muttering breath prayers constant, without ceasing, He offered these words:

“As long as you think you are of value to Him He cannot choose you because you have purposes of your own to serve. But if you allow him to take you to the end of your own self sufficiency, then he can choose you to go with him [to Jerusalem] and that will mean the fulfillment of purposes which he does not discuss with you.” (See Luke 18:31)

Hallelujah, the struggle isn’t mine…or yours! I often lose site of the goal when I’m stuck in the process. It’s the details, the why, when and where that bog me down…consume me when all I need to do is trust and obey, to clear the fog brought on by my own doing – not His.

“Commit your way to the LORD;
trust in him and he will do this:
He will make your righteous reward shine like the dawn,
your vindication like the noonday sun.” (Psalm 37:5-6) NIV

That Ministry of Yours

I set the last plate to rest in the dishwasher and swirl the towel across the counter completely distracted and lost in the questions still circling in my head: Why do I blog and what exactly do I hope to accomplish with it or with my writing in general? Who do I want to reach and what do I want them to know? And when did my love of something so personal as writing/blogging turn into what some people nowadays call a “ministry”? I shake my head and stare off over the top of my coffee cup toward the pepper trees, and I watch a trio of ring-neck doves flutter wings and land light-footed on the lawn beneath.

Don’t we all have a “ministry” of sorts…living, sharing and professing what we believe?

My dream had always been to be a mystery series book author for children until that day when the Lord grabbed me by the shoulders and told me to write for Him. I had my dreams, my plans all laid across a bumpy, dirt road with plenty of pot holes and strange twists. I’ve since switched to the paved road and though it’s a little uneven at times, I know I’m supposed to press on.

But negativity’s been jabbing its pointy finger at me about this lately. I quickly started down that old way of thinking and comparing myself to those who have their ministries and platforms firmly in place, established and deeply rooted. The comparing quickly turned to whining, so I poured out these thoughts – maybe you can relate:

• You’re not going to have the same message or ministry as any other gal out there. You’re going to reach exactly who God wants you to reach, and you’re going to grab them by the heart in a way that is uniquely you if you’re truly following the will of the Lord.
• You were designed to be YOUR best and to do YOUR best – not someone else’s. But the nagging voice comes back and argues, “Me? What do I really have to offer? What new and wonderful piece of information could I possibly relate that hasn’t been shared already?”
• Don’t look to the accomplishments of others as a scale for yourself! You’re not going to look like her, sound like her, write like her or follow her same footsteps to “success,” whatever that may be. Her ministry is hers set forth by God – you have your own. Instead, embrace the words, the messages He’s given you and tell them with anticipation knowing that someone somewhere out there is hungry for them. That "someone" needs you! She’s hurting. She may be feeling overlooked today, neglected, transparent, unappreciated and unloved, and you have to remind her that those feelings are not from God. She has to know that her dreams and goals matter, that God designed her with particular gifts and that she’s strong enough, important enough to see them through. She has to hear it and hear it now before the negative consumes the positive…before it’s too late and her faith is shattered forever. With all your heart, shine the light of Jesus.

My heart races with the thought and my creased brow falls to a smile as the doves take flight over the garden. They perch on the fence and stare back at me and I realize they’re sitting still as stone…watching, waiting for my next move.

Closest to the Heart

The stretch of open road ahead twines like a ribbon fallen loose and careless. It divides endless rows of heartland tilled rich and fertile and I think of the years and the memories in between. About the two paths running parallel yet separated by the miles, but it’s the heart strings that push me on. Has it really been 18 years?

It’s the power of a friendship born of a young spirit, of innocence and a lifetime of “what ifs” yet to come that coax the smile over the steering wheel. It’s that certain laughter that brings it all back as if it never ended. The knowledge of another soul who bore witness to my early days of stretching my wings and learning to fly.

Some things are forever joined at the heart, you know; purest love, deepest friendships, strongest faith, little girl promises and secrets whispered. They somehow bridge the gap of time and in the end…always in the end, it’s what matters most.

I love you, my sweet Tami.

There are “friends” who destroy each other, but a real friend

sticks closer than a brother. (Proverbs 18:24) NLT