Driven

I’m thinking this morning about the word,

About what it means,

About the force behind it.

What drives me?

What drives you?

Is it self motivation? Determination? Fear?

Fear of sinking into nothingness and never achieving OR if you’re driven to stagnation, the fear of failure?

Are you driven by the prodding of others? Driven away?

A constant chastising or pressure to move forward?

There’s a force which propels us if we’re driven at all.

Do you allow yourself to be “driven”? Are you even open to the possibility? We’re all headed in one direction or another…aren’t we?

Driven is how we’re to get there.

Either kicking and screaming at the Father’s Will,

Or “driven” by the very breath of it.

So, what drives you today?

What propels you?

What forces you to move from your reluctance…to forge ahead with eyes open and arms outstretched?

Why not grasp the hand of the One who calls you to move forward on His behalf?

The Spirit of God has made me; the breath of the Almighty gives me life. (Job 33:4) NIV

Matters of the Heart (re-visited)

My hands worked over a mound of honey-colored dough kneading with my palms across a board awash in warm sunlight of a fall afternoon. The enticing aroma of focaccia hung heavy, and in the quiet hum of tradition I connected somehow with countless others who've smiled deep within their souls the same satisfaction of such a moment. The traditions, the matters of the heart, are what bind us together in prayer and in praise...those who marvel at simple blessings. I think of all the long-stemmed roses I've gathered throughout the years; those cleverly disguised as mothers, grandmothers, aunts and precious lady friends who have unfurled their strength of character and fragrance of love upon my life. They have exuded grace and humility in passing down traditions born of hard work, sacrifice, love of family and a desire to best equip those fortunate enough to have received the blessings of hearth and home. Lord, thank you for holidays past that still bring a tear. Thank you for lessons learned from the tattered hem of every apron, and for the love that still remains in each memory. Thank you for the many hands at work this season preparing and nurturing...blessing those who gather with thankful hearts. In Jesus' name. Amen. "Likewise teach the older women to be reverent in the way they live, not to be slanderers or addicted to much wine, but to teach what is good. Then they can urge the younger women to love their husbands and children, to be self-controlled and pure, to be busy at home, to be kind; and to be subject to their husbands, so that no one will malign the word of God." (Titus 2:3-5) NIV

Guest Posting at Robin's Nest

Well, you caught me away from the cafe today...I wandered off to visit a sweet friend.

I'm guest posting/visiting with Robin Prater of the Robin's Nest blog! I invite you to grab your coffee and join us

http://robinsnest66.blogspot.com/

The Mess We Leave Behind

I couldn’t believe the mess! One big, fluffy dog ~ one tiny puddle of motor oil. I wish we’d known that he’d slept all night with his whole back end in the slight remnants of a recent oil change in the garage BEFORE letting him in the house this morning. It looked like a crime scene! The more he wagged his tail and jumped around, the more brown splatters freckled walls, cabinets, floor tile and rugs…everything from dog level on down!

There’s nothing quite like breaking out the mop and cleaning supplies at 6am! Ugghh!

Actually, it makes me think of how quickly our words of negativity and our bad attitudes can spread. It takes just the slightest murky “puddle” to fling around and make the biggest mess. Sometimes our lack of faith or less-than-holy behavior is bigger and takes on more presence in our lives than the One who can clean up the mess.

Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen.

(Ephesians 4:29) NIV

Lord Jesus,

Help me to consider my words and my actions before they’re spilled and splattered on the hearts of those I love. Amen!

I want to invite you all over to Robin’s Nest (http://robinsnest66.blogspot.com) tomorrow! She’s so sweet to have asked me to share a guest post at her blog, so I hope you’ll grab your cup of coffee and join me over at Robin’s. I’ll see you there!

New Web Site!

Hello there! I'm so excited to share my new web site with you!

Take a moment...maybe a little longer...and let me introduce you to the wonderful contributors of Christian Women's Voice Magazine:

christianwomensvoice.org

His Perfect, Powerful Word

I walk around with it. Go through my day with it. The thoughts, responsibilities and demands rain down hard, breathe a heavy whisper across the back of my neck. So much yet to do. So much I haven’t done. So many “things” pulling, tugging for my time and attention.

And He knows every single one…

He hears them too; how they sound off in my sleep and call to me like faint whispers through cracks of a rickety fence. They build and grow until they stand between me and my time with the Lord. And the only thing that topples the fence…..is the Word…

His beautiful, powerful Word!

When I push it all aside and carve out the moments spent just with Him settled and still, He brings me to exactly what speaks to my heart ~ speaks to my worry and inadequacies. I haven’t even asked for it or spoken the words, but He knows!

“For your Father knows what you need before you ask him.” (Matthew 6:8) NIV

And the weight of it all falls away. Peace comes in its place. Peace comes to stay! The chains are gone and I’m free to be His. Freely and completely…His!

Christmas Town

He’s 19 now and stands tallest in our family...stands tallest when I stand back and watch.

Tradition runs deep with him…even now…especially now.

This day and our tradition. I love that it means something to him still, though probably seems a simple thing to most; a few moments spent placing little buildings and figurines in the perfect Christmas town scene…just like last year and each precious year before it.

He notices that we still pull it from the original box, all taped and torn.

And me all ragged and smiling bright inside, holding on to this moment ~ this perfect, precious shred of "mom and son;" the boy now a man.

How many more years will we be here?

How many more times to dust off the old box and bring out the memories?

To talk and laugh of all the times before; give presence and worth to the past. And I wonder,

will he still do it when I’m gone and it’s only him,

A man grown and smiling bright inside,

When it’s up to him to bring out the box

To set up the town and dust off the memories

So precious and few?