The Days are Long but the Years are Short

"Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God." Philippians 4;6

Phew.... just trying to catch my breath. The weekend was a joy .... and an exhaustion. 

Teens and college age, at all hours of the night it seemed. I remember hearing my piano being played around 1:30 am. I knew it wasn't one of my own. That only happened when forced upon them like a cold green vegetable, when they wanted only m&m's for dinner..... "No mom, please don't make me practice!" 

What joyous noise... that of young adults. Tired as I was, it was not lost on me that my days are numbered when I will dream of sleep and instead hear laughter and joy of these beautiful people, whom I love. These people who have grown up together, laughed, loved and share this road of unknowns... yet trusting in the One who loves them, even more than we can. The One with the perfect plan.... for each one of them.

The days are long but the years are short. What wise one said that?

Our days are numbered, no matter if we celebrate 8 or 87 today.

When we have little ones, we are exhausted from the repetition it requires to grow these sweet things into wise ones. Sweet children, that if we pay attention, we see the hand of God, ordaining their days.

The gifts, personalities and beauty He instills in each one. Some of it tucked away for the moment they will fly. Like the song... they were born to fly and through their mamas and daddies they are given wings. Wings that will send them into the world, but not alone. He lives in them, through His spirit that we are blessed with when we receive Him. Come Holy Spirit, come.

The days are long but the years are short.

Some little ones will stay by their parents sides, bringing a joy unknown to many of us... and also  concerns we will never quite understand.

These days can be long and exhausting to parents and the years can become a worry.

Come Holy Spirit come, fill these parents with your peace.

"Teach us to number our days, that we might receive a heart of wisdom"

Psalm 90:12

Lord, let us remember each day is a gift from you. Let us look to you each morning, seeking direction. Where do you need me today Lord? What do you want to teach me and where do I need to change my ways? What is today about.... surely more than me!

Let us look to the One who ordains our day and thank Him for this day.

The days may be long and the years short, but if they begin and end with Him...... then no worries!

Let the piano be played with passion, the laughter be loud and hearty and let us all rejoice in the blessing of today.

No matter 8 or 87

Do we see(k) Him this week? If Not now, then when?

This precious week is coming... quickly. It is upon us..... I can feel it. Are we ready for it?  Have we woken each morning recognizing that we must choose Him today? 

I am seeking Him this week, wanting to feel Him close to me. He is my hope and my salvation. Never do I see that more than here, in this day. This day that is moments away from when He offered Himself up for me....and you.

Passover, Easter... the combination of the two is quite beautiful to me.... as a Christ follower.

Our roots are in the Passover. Jesus ate the passover, also called the last supper (by Christians) with His disciples the night He was betrayed.. and would die a terrible death, as our sacrificial lamb.

 He was our passover.

 As the Passover Lamb must be without blemish, so was ours, perfect, without sin. He took on the sin of the world, for you and for me.

Isaiah 53 talks about the Suffering Servant. This beautiful Jewish book, full of hope of the coming Messiah and yet missed by so many of the faith. It tells how He will be despised, a man of many sorrows. 

" For He bore the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors."

Isaiah 53:12

He was clearly the Messiah, the Son of God.. the One that would lay down His life for you and me.

He was the last sacrifice. No more perfect lambs would need to be spilt out for us. We are free, by the blood of the One and only perfect Lamb.

Would I see Him as the Messiah or would I be Peter and deny Him three times, moments after fleeing  His side?

 Would I be the Jewish Leaders, jealous of Him and wanting Him dead? 

Would I be Pilate, thinking I could wash my hands of this sin the people shouted for and yet being guilty of sending Him to His death?

Would I be the half crazed crowd shouting for His death? Days earlier, they ushered Him in with palms and blessings.

Would I be Mary, who washed His feet with perfume, preparing Him for burial. 

Or the centurion at the foot of the cross who said," Surely he was the son of God."

Who would I be? Who am I here? 

I pray that Easter would take me by surprise this year. Surprised by the grace and mercy of Christ, our living sacrifice.

He died so that we could live and live fully, joyfully, complete in Him.

" In their fright the women bowed down with their faces to the ground, but the men said to them,"why do you look for the living among the dead? he is not here; he is risen! Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee: 'The Son of Man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men, be crucified and on the third day be raised again.'" Then they remembered his words.

Luke 24: 5-8

Let us always remember.

The Lover Of her Soul

This post will be on Mary DeMuth's - Thin Place.... next month.


Looking in the rear view mirror of my journey.

I see blessings, pain, comfort, anguish, mercy, fear.... they seem to go hand in hand when it comes to this journey I walk. Like sisters, hands tightly intertwined, they run through the dark forest searching for the light of the meadow.

How can it be that my most painful memory, ripping at my heart can also be my mountain top experience with the God of all creation. The God who goes before me and prepares the way, even when the way looks tragic, without a fairy-tale ending in sight?
The God, who I know loves me and yet I cry out to Him,"No, you can't let this happen God! No, please stop it, fix it, heal him!" I am begging. Begging for life.

Three months pregnant with our first child. You gave us this child I remind Him. Why would you take her daddy, before she will ever know him? A child we longed for and already adored. Yet quickly set aside when the diagnosis of terminal cancer was prescribed to my 28 yr old husband, the man of my dreams. The man I cherish, love, worship, adore, would do anything for. He is my hero, my go to guy, my everything.

See a problem? Isn't that how we are called to love our husbands?

I am his cheerleader and protector for the next ten months. The roles are reversed. I try to be who he was to me. I quickly learn that I cannot do this alone. I have feet of clay.
I call out to God and seek His face. I need wisdom and discernment. No, I do not understand this and I hate it but I love Him and I trust Him and I will follow Him... all of my days, no matter where He takes me. I am His and I learn to love, cherish, worship, adore, do anything for Him,  make Him my go to guy. My everything.

Now, I understand my role and how to love my husband and my God. I had confused the two. How unfair to both of them and how gracious of my God to take me in His arms and carry me through my darkest days. Wiping my tears with the hands of His people and comforting me through His promises shared on the lips of His saints.
I can say, "Not my will, but thy will" on that cold February morning that Jesus called His beloved home. Free of pain and suffering and alive with Christ.

My heart is full. Full of thanksgiving, full of joy, full of life. A life that will be lived for Him and only Him. A heart that though it trembles at its loss, knows it will be satisfied by her lover. The Lover of her soul. Her great Physician, her Father, her Rock and her Redeemer. Yes, it is well with my soul.

Who’s Your Daddy  – Chapter 0ne

One thing I know. The blessing is in the obeying. In the laying down of ones life for another. As He laid bare His flesh for us, His chosen ones.

We will never truly live until we die to self. Taking in the day to day truths of Him, His word exhaling from us like the air that we breathe. Consuming as much of Him as our lungs can claim. Little bits of Him that will shine out of us in ways we had not thought possible, because we are mostly unlovely. Ah, but He is not. 

He is beauty and we are His. He can create beauty out of these empty shells. He can take the hard knots of life and soften them as dough in the bakers hand. He tells us that we are clay and He is the potter. Let Him mold us into something beautiful. Something useful to Him. Something that can bring glory to the great I Am.

We will then become the sweet smelling aroma and the bowl that can be filled, filled with the attributes of God. Let it overflow and be a blessing.

Do we trust Him enough to obey, to say, " Not my will, but thine, Oh Lord." Big words for such stiff necked, fearful people.

But He is worthy and wonderful. He is the truth giver, the wisdom sharer, the lover of our souls. He knows the plans He has for us… and they are good!

Obey, and see that He is good. As He obeyed His Father and laid Himself out for us, taking on the whole world. The depravity and stench of everyone of us, from Adam to the newborn, crying as he takes in life.

Everyone… He loves and gave His all for…. So that we may see with new eyes and hunger for more in this life. More of Him and less of me. More of His ways and less of mine.

More truth and less wasting away my days. Finding my purpose in Him, not man.

How do we arrive at this place? This place of holiness? This place where God is waiting and seeking for us to follow Him?

Each in a different way I imagine, but still in truth.  Through our journey, our choices, our pain and stumbling. The bruises we have felt and wounds that won’t heal. No matter, just arrive. Don’t miss it. This is the point.

When we come to the place we can Obey.

Then we find the Joy.

The Blessing of the mixture. 

The Push And Pull Of Moving

I have five months left to live "day to day life" in Champaign.
I remember when the process of relocating began, a year and a half ago. It loomed far away and now I am trying to push it back, while also pulling it close. Yes, I want my cake and eat it too.

There will come a day, very soon when I will not want to get out of bed. I will say good bye on that day.
I think I would like to skip that day... just go to the next day please.
Even though I have wonderful things waiting for me, they are unknown... and far away.
I have many proven wonderful things here, new every morning.

I will enjoy spring in Champaign.
I will sit in my back garden with coffee, devotional and journal.  The birds will sing me a new song while splashing in the birdbath.
I will listen to the children next door make up rules to their games, laughing and squealing with no thought of time or worry.
Later, as darkness approaches their mamas will call to them, telling them they must come in, it's dark for goodness sake.
Is there really a better sound than children's laughter? We forget how to play and their summer sounds remind me of that and take me back to sweet, simple times.

My puppy and I will wander down to Clark Park twice a day. She will smell the scent of the many dogs who have traveled this path before her.
I will notice the children in little clumps playing,  their mamas in little clumps talking.

Summer comes quickly on the heels of Spring, at least in Champaign. I will open my windows and smell the clean fresh air of my neighborhood. The sounds and smells of summer will fill my cottage and the rumble of nearby lawnmowers will make me smile. Ah, the smell of fresh cut grass is soon to follow.

My children will be home. We will talk about the shaved ice trucks and when will they arrive. Which flavor should we try first. We will go to Cozies or maybe Jarlings....  might be healthier. Healthy, schmelthy.... we are talking ice cream here. Just depends if you want cold fudge or hot fudge... Hmm, we may have to  visit both.
We will order pizza from Vinny's once a week and we will visit Hickory River often. Oh my... what will we do without that place?!
We will go the concerts in the park and reminisce of the days we would meet up with friends and all of our little ones. Packing snacks, bug spray, blankets and jackets. Hmm, now days we might take a chair.

Maybe we will go to the Fourth of July parade and even the fireworks... though I am still disappointed they moved them from our beloved stadium.  The stadium is where we went our first year in Champaign when our 4 yr old son went missing as darkness approached and the fireworks were about to begin. We found him within a few minutes.... the longest few minutes of his mamas life.
A moment I will never forget and will be sure to share with his children.

We will wander around campus, enjoying a few places that are just a little more fun, with a few less people.

Our backyard will be a place we celebrate the sons High school graduation. Our friends will gather and secretly, it will be a moment for me to look at the blessings in my life. These people who make up my community. I will cry inside and know life will never be the same.
I will celebrate these people I love as well as this son, whom I am so proud of.

The summer will be busy. There are jobs and trips, beginnings and endings. I will savor every moment and hide them away in my heart. A comfort for later, to warm me when the chill of the unfamiliar creeps in.
No worries I will say. We do not go into unchartered territories alone. We have faith and we have friends. What more is really necessary to live well? Nothing I say. It is true. To have been loved by people and to share the joys and sorrows of this life. What a blessing that is.

  

Welcome (in)courage readers. 

Thanks for stopping by this morning. I pray that you will be blessed and encouraged in your walk this spring morning. The birds are singing praises to our Fathers name. I pray we can find this same joy and sing to Him also today. 

Happy Spring.

          

Call Me Anything.... But Please Don't Call Me Religious

The word started out good but we have made it into something else.

It's not that the definition of religious is bad. The problem seems to stem from what we have created the word to mean. 

Sometimes I think of legalism, rules, rituals, a repeated practice. 

Something other than what I hope my personal faith looks like.

I hope my faith is none of the above.

The chance is always there, if I do not stay in communication with The One who created me for worship. The worship of Him, not a man, not a church, a set of rules and certainly not a denomination.

We say Jesus is about love... truth is ... Jesus IS love. He is the definition of love, not just one of His attributes.

Jesus was also a Jew. So if I really want to join the first church, I could join a Messianic Congregation. They are the first chosen people and completed Christians. 

That is exciting and I remember as a kid, when Jews For Jesus would come to our church and share their experience of recognizing who Jesus was and is. They also shared the loss many of them experienced from their families.  To tell your Jewish parents that you believed in Jesus as anything other than a prophet....that is heresy. Not always, but many times it was met with pain and loss, amidst this joy of knowing the risen, living saviour of the world.

Yet Isaiah 53 talks about our suffering servant. It prophecies of the coming Messiah to the Jewish people, and now to all people. Vs. 3 says," He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering. Like one from whom men hid their faces he was despised, and we esteemed Him not." 

In vs 5, " But He was pierced for our transgressions, He was crushed for our sins, the punishment that brought us peace was upon Him, and by His wounds we are healed."

Easter is almost here... may I not make it into a religious Holiday. May I see it as an opportunity to recognize that Gods Son, who came in the form of man, with all the human frailties and feelings, came and paid the price for all of the worlds sin. He took our sin on Himself, was brutally beaten and killed in the most painful way known to man. 

His Father God had to turn His face away from Him, while He hung on that cross, unable to look at that sin ... of mine, and yours. 

I am reminded it was the religious zealots who had Jesus killed. They had a set of ideas and expectations and Jesus did not fit into their plan. He was a rebel, as He taught grace, love, peace and mercy.

Do I show those qualities to people or am I a religious zealot? 

People sometimes call me religious. Should I be pleased by this? Are they drawn to it or is it repulsive to them?

 My response.... "For me, it's not about a religion, it's about a relationship.

A relationship with the Maker of the heavens and the earth... Kind of makes me giddy sometimes!

He made me and He loves me..... He really does.... and He has plans for me... everyday...

But there is room for you too. It's an open door policy. If you are willing to walk through that door He will welcome you in, with open arms and grace like you have never experienced..... I hope it makes you a little giddy too.

My favorite saying is this. 

"If you never know me....

You wont miss anything

If you never know Jesus...

You will miss everything"

So please don't think of me as religious. Truth is, don't think of me at all. That would make me the most happy. None of this is about me. It's about a God who loves and adores you and wants to meet all of your needs. 

It's about your relationship with Him. He is alive and He wants to be with you... starting now.

Will you welcome Him in?