God with us

This is my poetic rendition of the first part of Matthew based on the wonder of Emmanuel: God with us.  I meant to post it on Christmas Day, but as you can see, that didn't happen.  So, now, lying on the couch with fevered body and strep throat for perhaps the 6th or 7th time this year, I finally get it on the blog

Emmanuel

You gave up your deity to enter into humanity - Emmanuel
They tried to snuff out your infancy when kings bowed to worship Thee - Emmanuel
Gold, frankincense and myrrh were the prophetic gifts they did offer - Emmanuel
In Egypt you were exiled and from there we were reconciled - Emmanuel
You returned to your own never really having a home - Emmanuel
John the Baptist cried out, "Prepare the way," he did shout...for Emmanuel
He called men to repent and turn to the Man You had sent - Emmanuel
John came baptizing with water to turn men to the Father and Emmanuel
But who would baptize with fire and give the Holy Spirit who is higher? Emmanuel
Jesus came to be baptized and the Spirit did acknowledge and recognize Emmanuel
The Father gave Him a sign, opening up Heaven by design over Emmanuel
Jesus was Your beloved Son, the well-pleasing one was Emmanuel


I've continued on but without the Emmanuel theme in putting Matthew to poetry.  It's been interesting and I'll share more, but for now, may you get lost in the wonder and depth of what it means to have God with us, in us, living through us, making all thing new around us.

In memoriam and the battles we face every day

It's Veteran's Day.  And, after a tear-jerking, moving speech at the memorial service, I was left wondering what noble deed I am doing/might do for my country.  What is my noble, my courageous service?  First, I must humbly thank those brave men and women who have served and given all.  I think of the wives whose best years faded while their husbands spent lonely, cold and cruel nights in foreign parts, children who grew up with a picture of Father but no personal memories, and men who live still haunted by memories that can't be erased and, much like losing a loved one, may come crashing over them unexpected, unprovoked, leaving them once again struggling to live with the present tasks and face-paced culture.

  But, what can I do for this great country compared to these, and then it came softly, unexpected with all the weight and beauty of solid truth.  With a toddling one-year-old finally crashed-out asleep in his stroller, girls dressed in AHG uniforms passing out poppies and a son in Trail Life shirt and hat offering small flags while the anthems of our great service branches played in the background, I saw my sacrifice.  Not only my sacrifice but the sacrifice of many other women there present and who have been and will be coming after me.  Raising up godly men and women with integrity, respect and hearts of service: that is my gift to a nation and my daily sacrifice.

     As a mom, we give day in, day out, every heartbeat and often the wee hours of precious sleep, the hopeful projects and half-forgotten hobbies, our lives our laid down.  Not 6 feet under, not on far away battlefields but right here, right now, until death, on the great battlefield of the home.  I've experienced first hand lately and had my eyes open wide to the truth that my home is a very real battlefield and the minds and hearts of my children are territories worth keeping, preserving and dying for.  They are vulnerable, weak and constantly under attack by the world around them, the enemy and their own self-wills, and it is my job, my duty, my high-calling to stand guard, alert, ready to fight for them and to preserve that great freedom for which we have been set free by the One who has paid in blood, sweat and body.

       So, my friends, great Christian women of America, her future is resting upon you, upon your vigilance, upon your wisdom and gentle instruction, upon your sleepless nights, tear-stained pillow and worn-out knees.  My prayers are with you as I fight, your comrade, your ally, your fellow countryman of that Great Country we have not yet seen. along your side.

It all came rushing back: If ever you lost a loved one

This is my letter to our Pastor Bernie and Gayle Jernigan.  Gayle's mother just triumphed over a long battle with Alzheimers last night - a battle that looked like anything but triumph -  but has ended with her entry into the arms of Jesus.

Today, a young man spoke of recently losing his mother to heart disease.  He articulated the whys, heartache and struggle of walking the path with one dying, the heart breaking in those last few weeks/days/moments.  I relived my dad's last week on earth and all the pain and questions that went along with that and still hang lingering in the air.  The sorrow and emptiness also acutely felt over my dear brother, Jeremiah's death as the years slip away and we'll never know this side of heaven why he was killed - so young - and how the Kingdom of God is advancing through that devastation.

 I think of all the well meant condolences that sometimes hurt more than they helped.  People often try to cheer the grieving with the hope and joy of Heaven while we are yet cut to the quick with the very real pain of loss on Earth.  There certainly is that deep, abiding joy and hope and it is the underpinning of our every next footstep and fortitude but it does not supersede the pain of loss this side of glory -- at least not yet.  The grieving do not wish to be cheered midst the mechanical numbness intertwined by very poignant sorrow when all you can do is sit down and stare at nothing and no one, or hold close an object that was theirs and long and wonder or shake with grieving sobs.


     So, my prayer for you Bernie and Gayle is that you are held close by friends and family and even more keenly aware of the arms of Jesus surrounding you and His tears mingling with those flowing down your cheeks as He walks you through these sorrows.  CS Lewis said: "The joy then is part of the sorrow now," and all those memories that made you laugh will now always carry with them the cloak of sorrow.  You'll still laugh but not without a pang of grief intermingled.  May there be a quieting and gentling  in your sorrow flowing from the God of all comfort.  Don't be afraid of the heartache and tears but embrace the moments when you're overwhelmed by it; let it slow you down as long as it takes, whenever it strikes you.
   May the hand of God uphold you and His grace cover you till your feet find some firmness for another step.
With love, prayers and understanding,
Sarah

The Gift of Offering

It's not what you think.  I'm not talking about giving money or a material gift, but offering of yourself.  There's a difference you know between asking someone for a favor or for help and having someone genuinely, graciously and enthusiastically offer to serve, to give, to help.  All of those being ideal in offering up yourself.  Have you ever been offered help but with the tone of "Please, say no.  I really don't want to help but am offering because I feel guilty or obliged."   or the condescending offer that says "Clearly, you don't have it altogether, but since I do, I'll give you a hand." ?

     I have the fortunate opportunity of being a frequent flyer and with 4 children, I have found myself on multiple occasions with hands full of bags and babies traveling "alone" and looking a little (or a lot, as the case may be) frazzled and overloaded!  I have people look at me with compassion in their eyes or comment on how full my hands are, but it is the rare and refreshing exception when someone says, "May I take that for you?" or "Let me carry that or hold the baby, etc while you get settled." or even, but less appealing, "How can I help you?"  I let out a little sigh of relief as the cup of much needed coffee that is on the verge of spilling or having the lid torn off by the baby is lifted to safety or the heavy bag is lifted to the overhead compartment or, most recently, the baby is held (and has a blow out in the process) while I clean up the mess from my child vomiting all over herself on the plane.

not us! but a good demonstration of what it's like

    Enough of the run-on sentences.  You get my point, right?  There's also a difference between having someone say, "Let me know if I can do something."  or "Call me anytime." or "You could have just asked me." and someone noticing a need and meeting that specific need at a timely hour.  I've caught myself often being the one who says, "Let me know if I can do something!"  Rarely do I get a response or call to help, but if I have eyes to see, there is always a way to get down and dirty and wash the feet.  Most of the time that response is from my failure to take the time to really see - often 'cause I'm too busy with my own stuff to want to see.  Sad, but a true confession.  On the receiving end, I always want to think, "I've got this." and I don't want to burden anyone with my needs or struggles and so, I let the kind and even genuine generic offers slide and muster through my mess.

Treena, myself and Judah

Genuine offering, seeing the need and meeting, is a gift.  It's not just a gift to the one receiving it, but it's a gift from God to the giver.  I hope to pause more often in the middle of saying, "Let me know if I can help." and say, "Give me a job to do, and I'll be over to do it." or having the grace to see or come up with a way to gift myself, my time, to serve those in need.  So, next time you're tempted to throw out the generic, "Call me if I can help," Pray for the grace to see or recognize a potential need and be the answer to a person's need.  There's a promised blessing attached to that. "Whoever does to the least of these, does it unto ME." (paraphrase) and "He shall by no means lose his reward." Matt. 25:40, 10:42.

Heaven in a child's eyes

Nice title, right?  Today was not one of those days.  Today was up too early, nap too soon and too tired and hungry to want to use sign language to ask for food, aka obedience training.  Ever tried much obedience training?  It can be hard.  It is always hard with a tired child!!  Does that mean to forgo obedience training at that time?  I don't think so.  I certainly don't think obedience should only be expected when one is well rested and happy - where would that leave me?  Scott free! Lol.

  Anyway, there we were, Eve and I trying to do Math at the kitchen table and baby desperately (but not too desperately) wanting veggies straws.  He was desperate enough to wail and cry like he was being tortured but not enough to sign more when he finished his first two straws.  I put him through the paces a couple times - using his own hands to sign "more, please" but after the first couple times of that, he pulled away and plopped himself down, wailing even louder.  He adamantly refused to sign and cried to make your heart break or have you pull out your hair- whichever you might be inclined toward.  So, thankfully, after a time in bed to rethink his behavior, he chose to bring his hands together and request "more" at lunchtime with significantly less difficulty than before. :)

     What does this have to do with my title?  Not much except that the self-same little boy has a gift that I pray the mercy and grace to be able to cultivate and witness the fruit thereof.  He's a people person.  He notices them, calling them out with his eyes, with his winsome smile.  Often seeming to pick out of a crowd those who appear sad, lonely or self-absorbed.  Inviting them into joy, inviting them to turn up the corners of their mouths over something simple, beyond themselves. And I wonder what this one will be, my little prophet of joy, of looking beyond self.

Aren't naked babies so adorable!

  I noticed this first and distinctly, this searching out, pursuing the aloof or alone with his eyes, when we were at an airport awaiting our trip to Costa Rica.  He was 4 months old. He couldn't talk or make much noise but he wiggled and stared down and smiled with such focus and determination toward a man who was completely oblivious to the attention he was receiving.  Most of the time, he won over the object of his smile, though there were times I felt disappointed for him and even more for his studied subject because they missed out on the warmth of a smile and of being surprised by joy.

 I want to be that one who doesn't look past those hurting, marginalized or ostracized but looks into them, as Jesus did, and seeks to light a spark of joy and hope into that isolated heart.  I want to be intentional with my love, not so absorbed in my own needs and desires that I completely overlook the lost, the hurting, the lonely right in front of me.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     I also don't want to be that tired child who fails to humbly submit in obedience to the Father, who fails to see the importance or value of His ways and stubbornly fights for what I want.  May I hear and respond with willingness and joy when the Spirit speaks, my heart, my will jumping to obey, delighted that he would even call me to do something above, beyond myself.  He thinks of me to call me to obedience and that alone should be enough to leap with joy and respond rather than drag my feet or grudgingly, unwillingly warring against the Spirit like I often will when it's not my own inclination.  God help me!  God help me raise this little boy who causes me to wonder.

Growing up

It's with a little anxiety that I post this, feeling the desire/pressure to be consistent, unlike I have been, and write on a weekly basis.  But I'm diving in, so we'll see how it goes!

     There's a certain beauty, nostalgia, joy and sadness that comes with the passing of time, changes in seasons and years and growing up.  I felt this poignantly as I packed up the kids summer clothes and exchanged them with the next size up and their fall/winter wear.  They're growing up fast and its hard and beautiful to watch it happen. The nostalgia of a favorite outfit or the story behind that stain or the holes in the knee.  The shorts that were really too short and need to be removed from the bin of too-small clothes to be saved for the next sibling down the line or the eventuality of another possible additional blessing in the future, should God see fit.

     I enjoy cleaning out, organizing.  The anticipation of this outfit combo at the pumpkin patch and the memories to be had there. Or jumping in leaves and sledding down hills or snug jammies on cozy nights reading a good book, playing games and drinking hot cocoa.  I hope for a slower winter/Christmas season filled with friends, hot drinks, cozy nights and awe and wonder.  We'll make all kinds of cookie creations, serve the poor and learn to give ourselves as a family in a new way to the Christ-child who changed and divided history with His grace-gift and sacrifice.

     I wonder what my spiritual growing-up looks like to Him.  Does He smile with amusement and some relief at memories of my stumblings and rantings  I imagine He celebrates my small victories and is eager to see the growth from future lessons.  May I grow up in Him, in His timing, not remaining stuck unnaturally in a certain stage nor pushing for more than He's ready to give or I'm ready to receive.

Ode to my dad

Subtitle: It's not about faith, I found myself surprised.  

The end came quickly for my dad two short months ago.  Has it really been that long already?  Some would say that it was a lack of faith that prevented his healing from the terminal illness that took his body by storm just two years ago.  If only we had believed...had faith, we could have claimed his healing, stood on it, seen it/faithed it into existence.  Surely, dear reader, you must know that we prayed, even cried out for his healing, unceasingly like the widow, humbly like the child asking for bread, earnestly like the centurion.  I think that we all, I for one, fully expected his complete, miraculous healing and recovery.  Not understanding why this came upon him, why he had to suffer but full of faith that "this was not unto death", Yet here we are having stared death in the face and wept.

Jesus wept, you know.  The shortest verse in the Bible.  Is that because in the face of great grief, there's nothing to be said?  Certainly plenty is said but most is unhelpful and some of the best-meant words can cut deep in the face of such loss and sorrow.  I think Jesus like no one else understood that, so...Jesus wept.  He just entered into the grief with them. Simple but most profound comfort.

These thoughts I pondered as I flew out to be with my dad the days before he no longer saw dimly but face to Face: I wonder who will I call when I'm doing yet another building/construction project?  Who will understand what I'm trying to do and give me tips on how to dot it well?  Who will I call when I just don't know what to do and life seems confusing (besides my mom)?  Who will have good graphic design ideas and the best way to present my blog? (We were going to work on this but the time never came) Who will be a father to my fatherless husband and a godly role model for my children?  Who will make up silly rap rhymes to help us memorize Scriptures like Ruth 3:9b "Spread the corner of your garment over me since you are my kinsmen redeemer"?  Who will fix up that old boat you had vision for so that we can enjoy warm days tubing, skiing or just trolling in the inlet? Who will lead impromptu prayer and worship at family gatherings?  Who will take your place?  No one, ever, but GOD will provide other means of wisdom and grace and in a little while, we'll be together again.  I love you, Dad and miss you so much.

A beautiful turn of events

I start.  Stop.  Think about starting...the computer isn't working right.  I have many thoughts, so much I could pour out on this page and yet days, weeks go by and my inconsistency glares in my face.  They say one of the keys to successful blogging is consistency.  I guess I'm destined to be an unsuccessful blogger at this stage in my life.

The beautiful turn of events, however, is unrelated.  It's Emma.  My second born, second daughter, full of energy.  LIFE!  Vibrant.  She tests me, tries me, makes me laugh, makes me cry.  For months we clashed.  I didn't know what to do with her.  I prayed and cried and felt as though she hated me.  She would say at times that she didn't like me.  Every day we would butt heads and school was painfully difficult.  I tried discipline, praying with her, taking things slow, would lose my temper and feel like I would lose my mind.  I often felt at my wits end.  When our dog died in October, we had a moment of bonding.  I held her.  We cried together.  It was a precious time for me and I thought things were better.  This would fix the breach.  But, it didn't take long for the clash to recur.  Days turned into weeks.

  In February I was talking to a friend who was experiencing a similar situation with her son.  I talked to her about my experience with Emma.  It was then that I suddenly realized that our relationship was dramatically improved.  We weren't clashing every day.  Sure, she still has strong opinions and doesn't always want to obey.  She's impulsive and crazy at times, but our relationship had mellowed.  She kisses me randomly and says "I love you."

Often, in the midst of a struggle that seems to stretch behind and before in a daunting endlessness, it's hard to see microscopic changes.  I don't know when it happened or how it happened.  There was no magic pill or process.  But somehow, slowly, imperceptibly, our relationship had changed.  We were growing closer and healing had taken place.  Me learning to be gentler, softer...I hope.  Her hopefully learning that I am for her not against her.

Isn't that how we are often?  Fighting against what is best for us.  Clashing, struggling, and then life changes.  A turn of events, a change of hear, the constant barrage of pressure eases and the skies clear.  We can take a deep breath again and realize that God is for us.  And if He is for us, who can be against us.

  So take courage.  Whether it's a struggle in relationship, life's pressures squeezing in, you're too tired to look up or grasp hope, God is there.  There will be a day when you will look back and be able to sigh with relief over the fact that the great never-ending struggle, has indeed ended. A victory has been won and it is yours to lay hold of, to keep and maintain, to be thankful for. Look to Jesus, the Author and Finisher of our faith: the Beginning and the End and the I AM in between.