The brilliance of this day is hesitantly crossing the threshold into night’s dark silence.

I wonder at these twilight moments did I spend this day well.

Did I hearken to every opportunity that was set before me? Did I choose the best rather than the good?

I marvel that in all my busyness, so much is left undone.

I am left feeling much the same way – undone.

In this twilight, I am given the opportunity to unravel the haste of this day and acknowledge His presence that was intricately woven into each detail.

While, I can’t finish what is left undone. I can abandon myself to into His loving arms.

In this twilight, I am given the opportunity to fearlessly examine myself against the purity of all that is He and fall humbly at His feet in confession.

While, I can’t change what has been accomplished. I can rest in His forgiveness.

Soon, night will fall and so will my eyes in gentle slumber.

Rest, my child for another day will dawn.

Yet, this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.
Lamentations 3:21-23

Peace and Quiet -

You have made my soul for Your peace and Your silence, but it is lacerated by the noise of my activity and my desires. My mind is crucified all day by its own hunger for experience, for ideas, for satisfaction. And I do not possess my house in silence.
Thomas Merton

Quiet my soul, Father.

The night shade of this day is creeping ever closer. The softness of sleep calls to my weary and tired body. The wild and frenzied pace of this day has propelled me to this moment. Frenetic thoughts and movements continue to assault me. My home is possessed but not with a holy and sacred silence of the soul.

I try to be quiet. It doesn't work.

Holy Spirit, fall upon me now. Free me from the chains that bind me to the internal, infernal noise.

In the riches of Your holy release, may I sleep in grace filled peace.

Amen.

(This was originally posted on my blog "Teacups and Time" )

A Good 'Ole Country Boy

It was a hot summer day, the sticky kind of hot that smothers your skin and zaps the energy right out of you. Days like these you would have found me in the shade of the front porch watching the cars drive by sipping on the biggest glass of sweet tea around. That was the type of summer work that I liked to engage in but not so for my dad. He knew it was the growing time. Things needed to be done on the hot, sunny days in order to enjoy the harvest later.

You see, my dad was a gardener. What he could do with a small plot of land smack dab in the middle of the city was amazing. I am not a gardener. Green thumbs and dirt under the nails didn’t make it in my genetic makeup. I couldn’t fathom why you would want to work hard for those vegetables when you could go to the nearest supermarket and buy them. I didn’t understand then but I do now.

What I wouldn’t give for another bite of the fruit of his garden. The corn was sweeter. The tomatoes were bigger. The green beans were longer and the zucchinis were massive. There was a difference between the bought and the nurtured – a very big difference and it was more than size or taste. There was a sense of accomplishment knowing your hands together with God’s grace grew a harvest to be enjoyed.

I wish my eyes would have seen what was really unfolding in that dirt field when the seeds were planted. I wish that I had not discounted the work my father was accomplishing and sought the lazy pleasure of a shady porch. I am grateful for the memories of his 6’2” frame bent over his plants. The vision of him in his dirty denim overalls and straw brimmed hat brought horrified embarrassment to a teenage city girl and now brings a warm smile of recollection to a middle aged daughter’s heart. While I was city born and bred, he was Kentucky country through and through.

A good man
A hard working man
A country boy forever

Unfortunately, my dad no longer tills this earthen dirt. He is tending abundant gardens in heaven I am sure. With him is the wealth of when, where and how to plant and tend the tilled and furrowed rows. Gone with him is the hope that I will one day grow a plot of land and harvest a sweet bounty. Yet, the gathering isn’t complete.

My life is a gleaning of the harvest he began. The work of his heart and hands joined with God’s grace has tended the furrowed rows of my heart. The person I am today has been shaped by his example.

He loved the land. He loved his family. He loved his God.

He wasn’t perfect. This side of heaven none of us can claim that title. He was and will always remain my father. Legacy born in dirt; grown in time and lived in life. I am grateful the harvesting continues.

Happy Father’s Day, Dad!






(This picture is from my wedding 26 years ago. Sadly and quite surprisingly, I couldn't find a picture of him in those denim overalls.)

Just Faith

They meet on this dusty road, an unlikely joining of desperation. These two, whose hopelessness is numbered by twelve, are clothed in contrasting garments. She is covered in rags of unclean misery and twelve years of soiled shunning. He is swathed in social stature with twelve years of joy and grace now torn by helpless grief. Here amid the dusty air of life they join, opposites seeking their portion.

Providence confronts faith and two are healed.

A prompt to my spirit to wisely consider what is required.

Like her there will be times when misery meets despair and become unlikely traveling partners. A journey that is much too long. Shredding the hope that covers and leaving one naked and alone.

Like him there will be those times when life is good and in one brief, solitary moment, contentment is ripped from our hand. What was is no longer and we are left grasping the wind.

Yet, Providence speaks in the center this dirty path, “Don’t be afraid. Just have faith.”

Faith

Faith beyond circumstances

Faith beyond reason

Faith borne out of desperate release

Not fear

Just faith

(based on Mark 5: 21-43)

Friends.
Playmates.
Defenders.
Encouragers.
Kindred Spirits.

We need in our lives those we can call friends. Playmates we can share the fun of life. Defenders who we can count on when our walls of protection are crumbling. Encouragers who speak truth in love to inspire, nurture, cultivate and strengthen our lives. Kindred spirits who graciously intertwine their faith and lives with our own so our journeys will not easily be deterred.

As I pondered the words of Luke 5 this morning and considered the events of the last few weeks, I know I have been blessed with such amazing friends. Sisters, who confronted, challenged, encouraged and loved me to the Truth. Truth that I had known but wouldn’t accept and therefore, lay paralyzed in the muck of my own sin. They carried me past the crowds, through the roof and lowered me to the foot of Jesus. This is the only place where forgiveness and healing could be found. They knew that and they knew that pride, fear and shame had incapacitated me. Their faith carried and placed me where I needed to be, the place where I could not seem to get to on my own.

This place, this sacred, holy destination is where healing was found. I stand in the strength that is not my own. I will not argue with the Pharisees who doubt the healing or the forgiveness. I will pick up my mat and go home – praising God for what He has done and for the sister friends who brought me there.

Leaving the Embittered Path

Have you ever been here? A place where you know you shouldn’t be. It is a place where you really don’t want to be but yet, you can’t seem to let it go because it has been a part of you for way too long.

Familiarity doesn’t mean good or right - just familiar.

This has been my place for the last few weeks. I am not proud that I have journeyed here and have chosen to remain.

I know better.

I want better.

My choices, my selfish and arrogant choices, however, indicated otherwise. I have been camping out in my own bitterness. Ignoring the promptings on my heart and instead, feasting on more selfish and bitter root.

God beckons with more urgency and greater intensity. He will not be ignored.

My heart softens and then is broken. He has that power to shatter the concrete shell of bitter discontent and reveal the beating flesh within.

I can no longer ignore His promptings. They are too deafening to disregard. I must respond by leaving this place. Leave it all behind. Nothing that I brought should travel on.

I will admit I find it difficult to leave it all behind. Much of it has kept close comfort. Most has reasoned my bitterness. Without it, I journey on naked and vulnerable.

Yet, I know. It is all or nothing. Leave it all behind or look at nothing different for the destination ahead. A place of forgiveness, I pray.

Where this path will end, I do not know. Its finish is now in the hands of another.

Peace comes in the obedience. I pray for restoration in the destination.

Vlogemotion #1

Well, I decided to briefly step out of my "quiet mode" and participate in this vlog carnival.

I hope that you enjoy this moment. I wish that I could say I did but after 3000 takes (only kidding) (okay maybe not kidding) - you have ended up with the best of the worst. **smile** This would be the reason I stay behind the camera!

When you are done here, click the button above and go check out the others vloggers. I am sure they will be more polished than this!

Holy Vibrations

It seems rather ridiculous that I would be the one to give such advice. Advice to move on and leave what has been the past, the present and a definition of an existence if not in whole at least in part.

I am not known for moving on easily. I tend to cling to the familiar. Hide in the usual. Wither in the expected. This is not exactly the soap box that I should be standing upon. Yet, I find this time the very words I speak for someone else, vibrate deeper in my own soul.

So, if you have been wondering where I have been – I have been, well, wondering myself.

Pondering the placement of the sun, moon and stars
Reflecting on the changes that have taken place in my life
Meditating on the Voice that whispers to my soul
Speculating as to where this life-path before me will lead

This sacred chase my soul has engaged in has enfolded a hush upon my muse. It is not a terminal condition but rather a deep, cleansing breath – a heavy sigh for the soul.

Soon…very soon…my muse will be uncovered.