Monday, September 19, 2016

A Triangle of "Three".

Yeah, it's scandalous they say--  a love triangle and I am unashamed........Or, imagine Bermuda, that old polygonal legend of disappearing ships and planes......but even near the Bermuda I am not afraid of its devouring, three sided mystery.  And I am not afraid of the scandal.
 I am disappeared in a love triangle.  But, I am being tricky with you now.  I am just playing a game with my words. Of these corners of three I can barely even tell of how they  pull back beyond my imaginations and of their watery grave for worn out ways--it won't be told in latitudes and longitudes. 
No, I am not ashamed in the Triangle of "Three" and if my disappearance is complete, never mind rescuing me.  Let my worn out ole ways rest in peace deep within the water of the Triangle of "Three". 

 May the grace of the Lord Jesus the Anointed, the love of God the Father, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit remain with you all. 2 Corinthians 13:14


                                        King of my Heart


Sunday, September 18, 2016

Me, Sam and the Treasure

A true story of a Saturday in August etched out here for my dear sisters who climbed the mountain to Camp Mitchell to meet with a King and to lay our crowns at his feet.  ♥


The weekend began with a journal laid open on my lap and pen etching out this holy, daily dialogue......pen to paper, heart to heaven...it's the same thing. ♥ I scrawled the letters into prayers, into telling, and thinking in ink, and then some questions.
And the page full was turned and in the "uppery"corner of the next was a little something already written by the nice someone who makes the journals for people with pens and things to think in ink.

  **It read, "Expect the day to hold little treasures that have been           hidden just for you by God who has given you His heart." 

Just under it I had penned the last of my questions before noticing the print above, I wrote:  "Lord, what about the mountains?"(I was asking him about Camp Mitchell and if I would climb the mountain,  too.  Should I spend the money, do I belong with the others this year?)♥ I would wait for an answer.


But back to the words in the "uppery corner".  :)  
You know sometimes words pass by and leave nothing much behind their passing and sometimes those same words, for reasons not always known, SPARKLE.  Today I saw the glistening and a pittery pattery pounded soft in my chest wondering about little treasures sneaking around in my Saturday.  

 Ticks and tocks on the clock moved forward the morning, and I sat down to the big white screen and logged in.  A man from California leaves a note each day for all to see and he says they come from Heaven to share.  I wondered if they really do.   

**It read, "Watch for unexpected blessings and hidden treasures to       be revealed."  

The pittery pattery sound in my chest beat faster now and I wanted to search for this treasure, but where?  I whispered to the urging to "be still" since it only said to be watchful. I could wander into Saturday with all of the wonder of a child.  

The morning went vanishing while pulling out a chair for the afternoon. And I was passing by a little thrift store on my way home from the grocery.  I was caught up by an enthusiasm to venture inside .  I found the isles felt full of wonderment (could there be treasure?).  Up the last isle I saw, sitting alone on the floor a little brown suitcase for a bargain.  The brass tag said  Samsonite, but it looked more like plain Sam. He was old and perfect  so I brought him home, even though I don't think I needed a suitcase.  As I pulled away from the curb, I looked back with a start to see the sign above the door reminding me the little shop was called,  "Trendy Treasures".  ♥

I set the suitcase up high on the chest of drawers so that I could see it with ease because every time I glanced its way I saw the SPARKLE of a treasure, like an adventure, like a new story was starting to be told and only a few pages were yet turned.   The invitation to watch for treasure seemed to stretch out far beyond the rising and setting of a Sat.  And my new suitcase, Sam, was more than just a place to carry my clothes......it seemed an invitation into adventure..........and the question from the start of my story seemed answered now.....Sam and I would take our first adventure to the mountains and Camp Mitchell.   


Evening came and I climbed into bed and opened the book with the good words one last time to no page in particular and it read,  "The Kingdom of Heaven is like treasures hidden in a field......Matthew 13:44".

I was watching for The Kingdom all along! ♥  

---------------------------------------------------------
Psalms 139:17
Your thoughts and plans are treasures to me, O God! I cherish each and every one of them!
    How grand in scope! How many in number! 
Matthew 6:21 For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

                          
Camp Mitchell, Petite Jean Mountain
Fellowship of Christians Women's retreat 2016 ♥
"Daughters of the King"

Monday, September 12, 2016

Sunday

Oh Sunday, it is YOU again!  Hello!  Good morning! I've spent the week in the wake of Your goodness. I got up real early just to greet you and your awesome sort of something that makes you like no other day.    

It's true that the "church" is not a building and that the "believers" are sent out beyond its sanctuaries.  But when we gather together in the bosoms of our churches, we savor the "us" that God has made out of you and me.   Together we lift each other higher,  and for Monday to be the perennial love peddlers looking for their paydays in a Kingdom a'comin'.  It's so easy to say what I see in you, Sunday! 

Sunday, you are the shower, the coffee, the choosing the same old jeans and the something above them, a little better than " my on the farm" wear.  
Sunday,  and I choose the newest thrifted shoes that my friend will notice and say she loves.  
Sunday, and the farm chores are cut short because critters have to wait for me to return in the afternoon time, after all of the Sunday magic has been lived and relished again. 
 Sunday, and before I go, I read the living words, speak to the adoring Father, and face the loving God that gives me a Sunday again!  
Sunday, and I call my mom on the way there.  It is our weekly drive together.  We love each other with listening and talking and "knowing" one another well. She had a good week, she has encouraging words.  I hang up when I get to the big parking lot with not too many cars there just yet. There's not much time to dawdle,  I rarely leave enough.
 Sunday, and I make my way to the little room to the right of the stage where the other few are waiting.  I walk against the long wall on my way while the musicians are belting out the good songs about the "goodest" news of "ever".  
 Sunday, and I enter the little room at 9 a.m. where the loved ones are poured out to pray awhile together.  

Sunday, and the morning prayers end too soon, but this place is filling up  now with smiles, with exchanges of affection, affirmations, and love tones all around! There is more coffee, food and the followers, following their "Faithful One", are filing in. It's always the same in some ways! I love you, Sunday!  How could I not!? 

When the music begins to play again, a collective "us" are drawn into celebration as all revel in our most fortunate positions;  daughters and sons, beloved of God, sisters and brothers of belonging.   When voices swell to meet the joy in our hearts, all is well with the world.  
Later, when the night time comes and I am back home in my bed, the supper was cooked, and my chores all done, I sleep in the glow of Sunday---- until we meet again!  ;)



Thursday, September 8, 2016

Daughters of the King

The daughters are making their plans, flipping through their closets for something nice to wear.  They wonder what the others will wear, and if theirs will be nice enough to let them relax and forget about themselves for a while.

The daughters are making their plans, packing their bags, planning the meals and chores for home when they are away....... wondering if this is worth the time and effort, wondering if they'll fit in and come home with anything new or profound for this time they've signed up for.





The daughters look in their mirrors and they think the thoughts that daughters sometimes do, at any age;  Who am I, really?  Where am I going?  Have I come far enough so far?  Is God pleased? What is still left inside of me that will see the sun before I go?  Am I all that I can be?  Am I enough?



The daughters say goodbye and start their journey.  Some are driving alone and some share the drive.  A retreat just for them and time to exhale and be. Expectation is on their side now and the drive upwards becomes beautiful.  There's no turning back now.  



The daughters find their rooms, lay down their bags, and start to see themselves in this mix of women and friends.



  Exhaling the cares of the lower lands they will settle in and soak in the divine now. 



The daughters find atop this mountain the "something new and profound" that they wondered about below the rise of Camp Mitchell and its lovely mountain vistas. The daughters find a place, arm in arm, between the love of their sisters. ♥

Monday, September 5, 2016

Eavesdropping

Eavesdropping..........I was listening intently to this curious language concerning me and you:

Father, just as you are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us.....................(John 17:21)


Eavesdropping, I was. I was listening to the tender intent of intimate inclusion. I follow along softly and timidly:

 "May they also be in us", he asks........

Eavesdropping and hearing this sacred desire concerning us:

 ...may they be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me.

 I hear his intent to pull away the blindness from our eyes....prayers of deepest desire for this: ..."that the world may believe"...... Jesus  has such desires and they are all wrapped up in us, even to this very moment we are sharing here together. ♥ 

And we have to wonder some Monday-wondering-whys:  Like why does heaven want us so much?  Why does Jesus pray for us to be one with Him and His Father?  Why are we so cherished and desired? Why are we the objects of His love?  But also, why are we not amazed at all of this to the point of utter distraction?  Why is this not causing a complete train wreck of distraction in our every day living--- to realize that God wants to bring us and join us up with Him?  Aw........this is the best, most comforting wondering of my Labor Day. ♥ 

Gentle Jesus, I hear your prayers for me and all those now, before, and after me.....this loving concern that we could see with heart-eyes--- with faith-sightedness and come into You ( I make up words when I need to)......not earthen eyes of skepticism, refusing to believe You.
You speak to Your Father and He always hears......and I am hearing, too, because we were allowed to eavesdrop like this. ♥


Monday, March 7, 2016

Through the Chamber Door

In tranquility (the state of being free from disturbance; calm), in serenity (the state of being calm, peaceful, untroubled), in repose (a state of rest, sleep, or tranquility) I find You in the chamber where with rich hospitality in Your voice, You said, “Come in!” I found abundance of fresh, flowing, mountain water to drink my fill from.  I laid back on carpets of softest grasses and gazed into the sun soaked skies of blue and white, cut through with golden rays of warmth and repose.  Aw………this birth place of my soul—returning, returning, returning friends.  

Gorgeous canopies cover like mother.  Mountains jute up with protective force and strength like father.  Copious (abundant in supply or quantity) birds flutter in gentle serenity.  Gentle melody fills and falls as raindrops crisp the air in springtime.  I feel exactly as a baby drinking the warm milk, or a soft, safe child at her father’s feet and under her mother’s arm.  Repose, serenity, safety;  this is where I live and the notions come to me like the waters lap the shoreline, like with sureness, with abundantly more, with gentle tenderness, with purposes, with fun and frolic.  This is childhood at any age; being a child of God. 



Saturday, December 26, 2015

Behind Your Eyes



How about a little music to read along with me?  You will hear and feel this better if you click before you read.  :)  

I'm remembering Christmas day like all the days before it, in that space behind my eyes where I do my thinkin'.  That space, it connects me to remembering and imagining other days.  It was just yesterday, eh?  But it might as well have been 30 years ago because it has past.  How strange.  

The torn wrapping paper unveiled the thoughts I've been having towards my sons and my desire to bless them big...The wrapping torn unveiled the plans, the love, the listening I did to prepare gifts that would satisfy.  The smiles and thank yous said that I did it good.  Today I drove in the rain for 40 miles to secure more of the nice wrapping paper, half off, so that  I could do this all again for them.  I will wait 364 more days before I can wrap up this loving for them once again.  It is only like this on December 25th.  You know what I mean.  You did this for those you love, too.  They laughed and said I am planning so early, but  I've been planning about them for many more years than this.  ♥

 I love Christmas day because the birth of Jesus makes hope rise in the chest no matter the circumstances.  Like the baby in the manger, we can trust like a child.  This day is a mighty force against the darkness.  It is a triumph remembered and experienced.  The Lord is tender in everyone's thoughts......like on communion Sundays.   And the smiles and thank yous diminish any sorrow you feel, or concerns you bear. You can get swept away in the happiness of the moments of December 25th 'round here.  

And beyond the gifts there is so much more.  Because of His birth we can imagine things we wouldn't otherwise.  We can imagine our "forever days" in that space behind our eyes where we do our thinkin'.  I can imagine my Dad again and an embrace we will share when I arrive on the "other shore".  We can imagine all that we've lost surrounding us again.  We can imagine resurrection of dead bodies, we can remember, or experience for the first time, the forgiveness of all of our sins,  and we can live life in our heads and in our skin with the promise of peace even if everything or everyone around us is not peaceful.  Because of Christmas the words of this song mean something to us.  Freedom has bloomed and grown far and wide in us.  We sow seeds in a garden that has soil energized with heaven's life--our faith. 

Merry Christmas and may there be peace in the space behind your eyes and heart.








Tuesday, December 1, 2015

Moonflowers and Me

I want to paint a picture with both fine and sweeping brush strokes like the masters of old have done, but I am not good at that at all.  So I try here with syllables and whole words and I wonder if I dare even try?  But, stepping out into the air these past few days after the first passing of freezing nights and I see how much has changed for me.   I want to sort it out right here and now.  

It only takes one glance to miss those blazing red faces that met me each morning standing tall for the picking. The red zinnias are gone. Today they are devastated and look almost charred and abused.  The tangling vines that had my garden arbor and rails looking all gussied up for company each day, from my view now, look to  have succumbed to some awful fate as they only hang now, gruesomely by the death grip of their many, once tender tendrils.   And the parallels reach out and grab on like tendrils round my mind.

It's simple really.  It was not a plague or massacre, an attack or a mistake.  It came quietly as always. Just over night and under a nearly full moon it happened again;  the air changed.  The day before it blew fierce, forcing a change.........the air seemed like a weapon all day, yanking the leaves from the trees, tossing and throwing them,  pushing, pounding the farm and all of us.

It would not seem like much to me now except for the garden and the farm.  The response there I see is profound.  Life seems gone for death!--bursting red zinnias bitten and purged.  Moonflowers sort of melted on the rail, unrecognizable now.  "Response", that is all that it is.  My world has responded to the change in air.  

I do not like change. Especially when it seems to exchange beauty for ashes and life for some sort of death.   I have dreaded many of  them like a child dreading a vaccination.  My heart's plea is a quiet,  "No" and, "Please let it pass me by".   The cooler air told me that change was a comin', but I closed my eyes and imagined the sun.  The tall sons at the table tell me that little boy days are gone, but I close my eyes and remember bee bee guns and younger boys, sleepovers and tiny hands.  

But, it is time to respond to the changes in the air like the moonflower did;  like the tomato, the grape, and the zinnia.  It is o.k. for the vine to lay over and take it's winter's rest, right?   It is right for the Canadians to fly south and the bears know to enter their dens to sleep, yes?   It is right to respond to new times and seasons even if it is not our favorite.  Whatever time it is, He is there to help us and to delight in our good response.  

Some wise man once said that there was a time for everything under the sun.  He said it like this many moonflowers ago:  

 For everything that happens in life—there is a season, a right time for everything under heaven:
    A time to be born, a time to die;
        a time to plant, a time to collect the harvest;
    A time to kill, a time to heal;
        a time to tear down, a time to build up;
    A time to cry, a time to laugh;
        a time to mourn, a time to dance;
    A time to scatter stones, a time to pile them up;
        a time for a warm embrace, a time for keeping your distance;
    A time to search, a time to give up as lost;
        a time to keep, a time to throw out;
    A time to tear apart, a time to bind together;
        a time to be quiet, a time to speak up;
    A time to love, a time to hate;
        a time to go to war, a time to make peace.
Ecclesiastes 3



What time is it for you and for me?  Embrace it and respond.  ♥