If My Words

If my words had substance and could be seen as they launch out, would they lift and fill the morning sky? Would they praise up with the clouds?

If my words spoke out in shades of color, and if they were hot or cold, would my world be bright with rainbows, and would You cuddle in their warmth?

If my words had weightiness and could remain just where they fall, would they pile right up to heaven, and build a monument to Your worth?

If my words were lofty, and could speak to kings and queens, would  they hear Your invitation and come to the great wedding feast?

                                             

If my words were humble and if they were safe for all, would You trust me with the "least of these", and would You send me to the lost?

If my words could reach You, and I know that they do, I would set an echo in the wind to repeat my LOVE for You!

  

It's a Saturday

It's a Saturday and a picture taking kind of day it seems to me.  Everything outside seemed to expand in my mind's eye as I walked around to enjoy a Saturday, doing chores and feeding the critters.   I snapped photos here and there, but the best things that I saw were in another lens. 

 In "another lens" I saw new fences stretched tight across the back acres, mended and painted ones on the north side, and new pickets around the little red shed out front. Such expansion!

I saw new babies on tiny hooves storming the little pasture with exuberance while their mothers were watching them with a cautious eye.  

  I saw more mulch on the garden holding in the rain and holding back the weeds. I saw rows of vegetables sprouting up, vines clinging to the arbor, Arkansas black apple trees lining the south field, flowers waving in the warm breeze, and such good things as that.

summer

                               

It is January, though, and cold.  All of this envisioning reminded me of this: 

Hebrews 11:1 Now faith is being sure of what we hope for, being convinced of what we do not see.

Outside, the baby goats are still snugged tight inside their mothers, I can not see them yet. Maybe they will arrive soon.  The apple trees are on order at the nursery, the fencing is yet in a roll on the ground, and the pile of mulch waits to be spread over the garden ground on a warmer day.  The seeds are in bottles in the kitchen, and Hope is a wonderful thing.

HOPE !

Soup and Jesus

I drove to the other side of our small town and then up the snaking and steep hill to the top of a mountain called Manitou. I've made the climb many times over the last decade, and then some.  The sign at the top says, YWAM Ozarks., which stands for Youth With a Mission, which, to me, stands for laid down lovers of Jesus who serve and traverse the world to bring His life to all they encounter, including me and this little town.  It stands for missionaries, teachers, friends and a family. 💓

Now I'm back in my room remembering the evening there called, "Soup and Jesus".  "Soup and Jesus" is a meal, a celebrating friendships, an offering of song and teaching and time together.   A verse sat beside each plate in keeping with the theme of the evening;  Remembering.  Look! Here is my verse on the bright blue card! I took a picture of it for you.   

I want to remember.  This call resonates deep within me. I want to steward the "wonder" of Jesus well with the remembering.  Always remembering. 

So, we ate the salad, the wonderful soup, and the bread that no one can get quite enough of.  Over dinner and coffee we reconnect and renew with time spent together. 

It is late now, but before I rest, I'm remembering the faces around the table and around the room.  I'm remembering the words spoken and songs sung.  I'm sleepy now, but remembering just a little longer.  😊  

Carryin' a Happy Load

Waddling around the south field are these funny little ladies. This morning I had an urge to capture them in their last few days before babies come again.  Here are my spoils: 

These girls are carryin' quite a happy load, and it will appear more so with every passing day until just the right time, when delivery day comes.  

The swelling sides,  expanding udders, and the giddy feeling in my chest all tell me that the time is soon.  😃  I've been through this many dozens of times before and I know that babies tumble to the ground with tiny noses, ears and hooves in their perfectly adorable places.   I wonder if they are pregnant with browns, whites, blacks and blues?  I wonder if I will get lots of girls this time.  I hope.  It is the season! 

The giddy feeling in my chest stirs up for a Kingdom, too, always pregnant with expectation, always carryin' quite a happy load of hope in every season.  And the same Holy Spirit that filled Mary full with the Hope of the World, also fills our heart, too.   We are a Kingdom and a people impregnated with hope that never fails to deliver, though it may labor and wait until just the right time, it always delivers.  It is the season!

When

When questions fill the air and all the space inside my head, I can trust You.

When I try way too hard, You let me know I can trust You.

When I seem way too small and not enough, I can trust You.

When the path ahead is only barely visible, I can trust You.

When the past is too close for comfort and pushing in, I can trust You.

When I don't know the way,  I can trust You.


When I want to quit and hide, Yes, I can still trust You.

 I can trust You. I can trust You.  I can trust You.

1 Corinthians 12; A Winter Burial

 I search through this haze of winter thinking for something profound that is poking me.  And I've found a need for a January sepulchre.  It's a good thing to find a burial day for worn out old ways.  It's winter  again on the farm, and it's a winter's burial.  I will wander on through this and  settle it once and for all.  

Who am I here on earth, I ask again?  
Where am I in the midst of it all? 
 And in this Kingdom of friends, who is ... ME, and what is my part to play? 
Can I just continue to watch and not play?
Does it matter at all?

1 Corinthians 12:7 Each believer has received a gift that manifests the Spirit’s power and presence. That gift is given for the good of the whole community.

I have found a way around this most of my life, but somehow not today. These words ring out into my room.    

1 Corinthians 12:18 God has meticulously put this body together 

Yes, there I am.  I see it now, carefully woven into the whole. 

1 Corinthians 12:18 He placed each part in the exact place to perform the exact function He wanted. 

  How can I continue to wonder and indulge the doubt?  

27 You are the body of the Anointed, the Liberating King;  each and every one of you is a vital member.

And in this winter sepulchre the question and doubt must finally aptly rest.   

Romans 12: 5 Each one of us is joined with one another, and we become together what we could not be alone. 6 Since our gifts vary depending on the grace poured out on each of us, it is important that we exercise the gifts we have been given.

Together, as one.  💓

More Notes on the Kind Kingdom

In the Kind Kingdom a family gathers in growing number, but there is always enough room for more.   A building won't hold them, nor define them.

A band of brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers gently held as One--We are friends finding foundation in this place, finding freedom, and giving it away.  We walk in earthen realms, yet are seated in another land. 

(He raised us up with Him and seated us in the heavenly realms with our beloved Jesus the Anointed, the Liberating King. 

Ephesians 2:6)

In the Kind Kingdom gifts are handed out for free.  Assignments fulfill our heart-longings and together we find our common destiny. (1 Corinthians 12)

A Kingdom rolling back our shame and handing out white robes.  Arm in arm we carry a land, a Kingdom, and a King in our hearts.  

Yes, in the Kind Kingdom the family is gathering in growing numbers, but there is room enough for more!

The Longing Trails Along With Me

Evening finds me wishing I had done the outside chores earlier.  The goats will soon begin to call for the evening grain and it may be cold. I've been caught up all day thinking of this from some morning reading: 

"In my inner soul there had always been and lingered the deep, persistent, at times painful longing for a bit of soil:  A place where I could plant" ......Phillip Keller.

 A longing trails along with me, the longing for a rooted place, too, a place where change is rare, where I can plant an orchard, build fences and barns, put perennials all around and have loved ones near.  My inner self sometimes longs to stop my world and hold good things as they are, to stop the fleeting forward motion of growing kids, aging parents, everyone, everything engaging in this "freestyle" flux. The great highs will move along the way just as the dark lows do. Oh my, such flux and flow.  Help me to let go.

"It is an ancient art taking untamed land and turning it into a homestead."  P. Keller

 I find here the reflecting of the solid walls and unchanging charm of being the homestead of God, his dwelling place.  The temple garden where whatever He plants, and whatever He builds and grows will last and not fade with the tug of time, nor the pull of earth.

 And  I know everything God does endures for all time. Nothing can be added to it; nothing can be taken away from it. We humans can only stand in awe of all God has done. (Ecclesiastes 3:14,King Solomon)

 I thought of how the "Farmer's" seed fell on fertile soil, it produced a crop thirty, sixty, and even a hundred times as much as had been planted. (Matthew 4:8) I see a glimpse of the bit of soil, the homestead garden is built and never torn down, where what He does is perpetual, where perennial gardens grow. There IS a place in a heart redeemed where all we gain can stay. And with these thoughts, I end my day.  :) 


"When looking for a spot to settle, one of the essential attributes it had to possess was a patch of ground suitable for a garden."  P. Keller
............. "Two little lines I heard one day, traveling along life's busy way; bringing conviction to my heart, and from my mind would not depart; Only one life, 'twill soon be past, only what's done for Christ will last." C.T. Studd

I Hear a Roar

I hear a roar and a thunderclap,  it is God coming into the temple. I see a mist, I feel a surge, it is His breath inside of me. 

 I know a way to depths untold, it is hidden in Christ alone.
I see a path, I fling away from any earthen hold on me. 

 I take a hand, a Father's hand and know I walk secure.  I take a page and dine today on The Word betrothed to me.

The Cup, the Comb, Communing and Matilda Jane

Morning's here. The coffee steam is wafting into the cool air of my room, the dogs are at my feet, the old book with always new words is open on the screen.  Today, it will be the book of Matthew and me.  I have a comb ready for Matilda Jane, since she will ask to be groomed soon, and I am here to commune.  I open a fresh white page to put words on the screen, and I am set.  

In September, when she came to live with me, she would lie squirming and biting as I took the comb through each layer of her thick hair.  The gentle tugs through knots set her to biting at my hands and comb.  I had to bribe her with things to chew to keep her barely long enough for me finish this daily ritual. She would tug and pull, nip and gnaw. I wondered how I would ever keep this up.  It is January now.  Matilda Jane comes to my side asking to be lifted up for grooming. There is no need for a bone or a bribe, but willingly comes for me to remove the tangles of the previous day.  What a quick learner!  Not like me.

I wonder how I ever came here for bribe and bone?  The bone smelling of a "duty done", a pat on the back and moving on.  It was a coming, but not communing, an appointment, but not a visit.  It was fearing the tug of the comb and closeness.  My dog would not settle for a dry bone like this and I have learned not to either.  😊

Like her, I've learned to reach arms to be lifted for holding and going through my tangled day.  I've learned about Him being present with me and I must learn to be present, too.    I've learned of His place that transcends and swallows up my seat in the little room, on the little farm, in the little valley town in Arkansas.  In the early dark of each new day with bare feet and heart, we all can walk the path of faith to his lap again and again. 

The "Sweet Spot" is ours and the way is ever found through our faith.  I'm going in with my cup, my comb, and my communion today, and Matilda Jane is still at my feet.😉

Never Am I Gonna Be!

As the saying goes, "A rope made of three strands is not easily broken." (Ecclesiastes 4:12)

What words supply the wonder of Triune, of Three---and this braiding in the likes of me? What words describe this beautifully? I think its best described as "We".  

And I can not get over "We", never am I gonna be! 😃

I just opened the half glassed door to January 1 and felt the 10 degree air that is lying solid about the farmyard. I took a survey here of 2018.  The goats emerging from the shed, the forest and fields, the dogs romping about, the chickens perusing the grounds, the sun coming up amid a visual sea of blue, all cause the tumbling, rumbling, bubbling "thank yous" to roll out from my heart.  A new year slipped in as I slept.  I hear the soft echo of its easy arrival, and the calling invitation to run along with this God of "We"-- confident, expectantly!

 And oh to know the God of We (!), me invited into "Three"--Three in One, and me.  This must be bliss eternally. (John 17:21) His seat is near the Glassy Sea and from there this cord's attached to me.  Me and We! --no better words ever said of me!

This triangle of Three, me tucked inside so perfectly--yes, ever am I gonna be! 🔺

So, I'll sit just a few minutes longer in a fresh new year with my thoughts for you and me, before heading up to the kitchen to cut some vegetables for potato soup.  I wish and pray many blessings attach to you this year and linger long.  May 2018 be gripped in a gaze of wonder for all we see and hear.  May our hearts be light and happy all year long. 

Happy New Year! 

Rhonda