Wednesday, September 28, 2011

The Hands of God

Today I was thinking about the hands of God.

I was thinking about a person reaching out to God. Maybe standing on a hill, arms outstretched.
And I was thinking of God's hands, reaching out to the person.

And then I started looking at His hands.

They're big enough to hold the world. These hands hold the world and everything in it. The seas, the moon, the mountains, the animals. The galaxy.  And who knows what might lie beyond. And it all fits in the palm of His big hands.

His hands are gentle enough to form a baby. Tiny fingers and toes. The little heart. So small, so delicate. Carefully touching, carefully forming. Gentle, tender.

God's hands are strong. They cover us, protect us. They fight the enemy and do no allow him to win. Muscular and flexible. They define the word strength. They are mighty.

They're able to withstand nails being hammered through. God's hands are the picture of Love.

God's hands heal. The brokenness and pain that is in our lives and hearts, His hands touch and make whole and well again.

Reaching out to God, you are always assured of God reaching back to you.

Monday, September 26, 2011


Today's Happies were:
The feeling of energy and contentment I get from being with people. And I was with a lot of people this weekend!
Warm pasta with butter and parsley
A pumpkin spice candle from Daddy for my office
A hug from my Mama
Cool water
A brisk walk
Cotton fields up close and personal with Carrie (photos coming)
Jewish fiddle music
A quick falafel
A talk with a good friend
One of these: :D

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

One Thousand Gifts

Life is hard.
Complaining is easy.

But there are many things for which to be thankful. Instead of spending time thinking about what I am anxious about, I thought it was high time I posted some happies.

Maybe not a thousand of them today, but I'm going to start a list and see where it takes me.

Things to be Happy About
Lists-I love them so much
Little Girls with sea shells and salt water taffy
A friend who prays
Sunshine after several rainy days
A working lawnmower
Cherry Limeades at happy hour
Rosemary scent on my hands
Purple shoes
Hot dogs on sale- just time for a bonfire tomorrow!
Blackberry Cobbler scented candle that made me hungry all day
Cotton blooming in fields
Goldenrod shining in the sun
A little love note in my notebook from a sister
Leftover Cajun sweet potatoes for supper
The perfect song on the radio
A stranger's kindness
A bit of beauty tucked away in my heart

Quite a list when I get going! :)
More coming soon to a blog near you!

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Saturday, September 17, 2011

The Call

A calling. An almost ambiguous term to describe the indescribable urge placed in our hearts to accomplish a certain task or lifework. It's a tug that is more than just a tug. It's an inescapable compelling command that we must acknowledge or live a miserable existence.

A calling. A calling that is from God, whispering in our hearts, and sometimes shouted from the rooftops for our ears alone. Even though (as with everything from God) you have a choice, you can't get away from it. When you wake up, it's there. When you go about your everyday business, it peeps at you from behind the ordinariness. When you go to sleep, it's in your dreams. It's the click that makes everything fall into place and makes you the most satisfied and fulfilled as a person.

It's in your heart. It's waiting for discovery. God is speaking to you about what He has created you to do, about why you're here on this planet and all you have to do is look for it and act on it. God's call is not something to be ignored. It is not something to be dabbled in to trifled with. It is a force that must be reckoned with and He is gently asking you, irrisistably drawing you toward the potential He has placed in you.

How will you respond to this call? How will you act toward it? Will you surrender your ideas and feelings, or will you stubbornly continue on your own miniscule way?

The call is different for each person. Each one has something as unique as they are to accomplish and work toward. Each one is equally important.

The call is like the trumpet blast of the bugler, ordering a charge! in the heat of battle. It's a call to action, a call to faith, a call to moving forward. The kingdom of God is not static. It is constantly moving. It is a violent assault which requires work and alertness to win.

The trumpet has sounded. The charge has been ordered. And you must respond to the call. You must act on what is required. You must help win the kingdom.

Friday, September 16, 2011

Hat Day

Today feels like a hat day.
Not that my hair is misbehaving, but it's a really cute hat, and with some cooler temperatures, it just feels like a good day to make a fashion statement.

I've got a cup of coffee in one hand, my school books nearby, and I'm settling down to a day of writing. But before I start on the scholastics, I wanted to do a bit of blogging.

I'm feeling high as a kite and happy as a lark today. Fall is coming! I detest cold and being cold, but I love the fall colors and smells. Apple pie in the oven, the smell of fallen leaves, candles burning. My fingers are itching to get the camera out to document some of these beauties.

Today Mom and I are going to pull out our fall decorations and cozy up the house. If it doesn't happen soon it won't happen at all, and fall decorating is our favorite time of year. We like things like

fall foliage
little pumpkins
dried okra

Things that make the house smell good, and feel cozy and warm.
And I like old quilts and antique rolling pins, and iron skillets.

Which reminds me: ya'll should check out this blog:  Sugarpie Farmhouse. I love her decorating each season.

I like to say that Mom can make a home out of a cardboard box. She does it each time we move (which is frequently). And she taught me how to make a house (even an ugly one) into a home. Mom and I like to decorate seasonally, changing things out and moving things around to keep it interesting. And I like it that Mom doesn't use the bland decorator objects found in your local decor aisle. We use things that mean something to us. Family heirlooms, bits and pieces from places we've been, or things that we love. It makes our lives beautiful.

Making our home beautiful makes our hearts happy.

Thanks Mom.

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Simple Things

As you can see, I was thinking today about the joys of receiving messages. Emails, text messages, but best of all, letters. In real envelopes. With real stamps. Anyone remember those?

It's fun to know that someone is thinking about you enough to stop and send a message.

One of the simple pleasures of life that I enjoy.


The screen is dark. A touch of the button, and it dimly shines, and then to the great joy of the beholder:
"1 New Message"
bouncing up and down, waiting to be discovered.
The heart races. The mind gasps with delight. A message!
Perhaps the vibration continues and then, two, three, four new messages! All waiting, all expectation.
Quick! Unlock the screen and discover what is being said! Quick! Mash the button and the contents glow, bringing delight to the beholder, disclosing friendship, love, and a sense of pleasure.
Just a phrase. A mini communication that tantalizes and taunts and tempts us to reply.
A confidential note to bring a splash of sunshine.
All behind the bouncing promise,
"1 New Message"

Inbox (1)

Inbox (1). Just glimpsed on the tab of the browser window. 
A glimpse of hope, a glimpse of promise, a glimpse of friendship. 
Who knows what Inbox (1) means...who knows to what it might lead.
Inbox (1) what kind of promise is hidden there, waiting for the click to bring the mystery to light? 

What kind of secret do you hide, what kind of insight, what kind of procrastination will you provide? 
A click will bring it all forth, all to the eye. 
A click will bring understanding, will show it all. 
A click will reveal, a click will proclaim. 
A click will leave nothing else to remain. 
Inbox (1) will no longer be the same.

Monday, September 12, 2011

The Beauty of Pain

Pain, deep and abiding. It feels ugly, because it is not pleasant. It cuts deeply, it is ever present. And yet there is beauty in pain.
Pain, the dull ache of reality that will not fade. It numbs and blurs, like a thick fog.
Pain, changing and teaching. We change because of fear of it, because of experience that is taught by it.

The beauty of pain is that it changes us. The deepest pain in my life journey has taught me the most lasting lessons. Lessons I can never forget. Even today, it shapes and colors who I am and how I think and how I react.

The beauty of pain is that it instructs us. When hurting most, it's a constant reminder of the lesson to be learned. It sears it into our minds and hearts in ways that nothing else can.

Who can describe pain? There are so many ways to feel it. Sharp stabbing pain. Dull ache, deep and strong. Throbbing pain. Gut wrenching pain. Blinding pain.

Ah yes, there is beauty in pain but you must look for it. There is beauty in pain but you must appreciate it. There is beauty in pain but you must find it.

There is a small child who feels pain from discipline it needs to learn to obey. The pain changes the child.
After touching something hot, one learns to be wary. The pain changes us.
One who knows the feeling of pain learns to touch gently those who are hurting. The pain changes us.

The pain has already changed me. And will continue to do so until it is healed. Even then, the change will be there, a constant reminder of the pain even after it has faded.

Only I can control how it changes me.

I could become fearful and avoid anything similar to the cause of the pain.
I could become bitter and resent anything similar to the cause of the pain.
I could become hard and unforgiving of anything similar to the cause of the pain.

Or I can let the pain cleanse, and teach and instruct toward higher and better things. I can learn lessons, and change to accommodate what I am learning. I can become softer and kinder because I know how it feels to hurt. I can become thoughtful and wiser because I know what causes the hurt.

The beauty of pain deep within.

Somehow, when the pain hurts the most and when I'm crying out for mercy, the voice of Christ reminds me of His pain. When the pain is overwhelming, somehow I am reminded of His love. Its tempting to think that no one else has experienced the pain, but then the image of Christ and His suffering is flashed across my mind. Christ, the one who came to heal pain. Christ, the one who touches our lives and makes it whole. My pain is pitifully small in comparison. My pain is nothing.

O merciful Father, who hast taught us in thy holy Word that thou dost not willingly afflict or grieve the children of men: Look with pity upon the sorrows of thy servant from whom our prayers are offered. Remember him, O Lord, in mercy, nourish his soul with patience, comfort him with a sense of thy goodness, lift up thy countenance upon him, and give him peace; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Friday, September 9, 2011

Here I Am, Lord

I the Lord of sea and sky
I have heard my people cry
All who dwell in dark and sin
My hand will save.

I who made the stars and night
I will make the darkness bright
Who will bear my light to them
Whom shall I send?

Here I am Lord
Is it I Lord?
I have heard you calling in the night
I will go Lord
If you lead me
I will hold your people in my heart.

I the Lord of snow and rain
I have borne my people's pain
I have wept for love of them
They turn away.

I will break their hearts of stone
Fill their hearts with love alone
I will speak my word to them
Whom shall I send?

Here I am Lord
Is it I Lord?
I have heard you calling in the night
I will go Lord
If you lead me
I will hold your people in my heart.
I will hold your people in my heart.

Such a beautiful hymn. And my prayer for today.
Here I am. Is it I? Send me.

Sunday, September 4, 2011

Fresh Month

A new month. A blank slate, with all the writing from the past wiped clean, ready to begin again. A tomorrow with no mistakes. A chance to start over, begin again, and do better.

Our church usually has communion on the first Sunday of the month. I missed church today, but it strikes me as a very fitting thing to begin the month with communion. Or the week with communion.
A symbol of Jesus entering us. A symbol of Jesus' sacrifice for us. A symbol of being new, clean, forgiven. A symbol of a new start.

The adventure of life moves on. The journey continues every day. Every day I look and listen for what I should be doing to follow Jesus. There is a call echoing in my heart, and every day is a fresh chance to listen to the call and find how to fulfill it.

I'm glad for fresh starts.