Better than a Hallelujah (lyrics) Amy Grant

I was driving to an appointment this afternoon and heard this song on the radio.  I've listened to its melody and caught some of the words previously, but today it meant more.

Because I'm looking for more.

The struggle I am wading through is such that I need any touch, any inspiration, even though  it may appear seemingly insignificant to the average person.  I know that this is the "gift" of my pain...that I notice more...that I hear God more easily, because I need Him so desparately.  And so I loved listening to Amy's beautiful, calming voice tell me that what I am bringing to Him...
"is better than a Hallelujah sometimes".  

Therapy

I bought flowers yesterday.  Flowers to me, are synonymous with therapy.  There is just something about walking into a greenhouse filled with lush, vibrant blooms.  I will drop in at various greenhouses throughout the spring and early summer, but I am partial to one....spacious aisles, well cared for blooms, and  a covered santuary so I can peruse no matter what the weather.  Stepping into the wonderland of colors is calming, delightful... inviting.  Most of the time.  It was another difficult afternoon for me yesterday, which made the process of selecting flowers a more stressful task.  But I stuck with it, and managed to purchase most of what I will need to transform the areas around my house into their own havens of loveliness.

In the evening, my spirit had lifted and the process of beginning to plant, became a restful, therapeutic experience.  Placing fresh dirt into containers, trying to remember which flowers I bought for where, :) and then plunging them into the cool, damp earth...ahh...this so refreshed tired places in me.

The kinship of flowers and therapy seems evident to my personal experience.  Both bear a price tag, seemingly steep at the start, but with future benefits.  It's not all clear in the greenhouse, what my creations will look like...yet I know that within a month, my planting will reap gorgeous arrays of colour.  Often when I walk into the office of my therapist, my vision of the future of whatever my struggle is, seems rather opaque.  But in time, clarity becomes a friend, and the calming words of wisdom echoing in my mind, brings colour and new vibrancy to my life.

In the fresh air of this evening, I tirelessly relished the intricacies, textures and gracefulness of my flowers, admiring some of my finished product, giving others a welcome drink after another sun-filled summer-like day. Tomorrow therapy will beckon me once again.  I will eagerly answer the call.

 

Romancing my Soul

God is romancing my soul.  I first read this phrase in a book, "Captivating--Unveiling the Mystery of a Woman's Soul" by John and Stasi Eldredge.  Stasi talked about needing God to show her that He loved her, that she was worth fighting for.  When I read her words, I knew I needed romancing too.  I was in the midst of my darkest valley of depression, and I was desparate for any tangible sign that God was actually fighting for me...it certainly didn't feel like it!

I need romancing again.

It's been a week and a half of dark clouds again...some of them, eerily sinister.  And although 11 days doesn't sound very long, each 24 hour period is weighing on my spirit.  This is what I wrote in my journal this morning:
"God...this is not fun.  I feel tortured.  How do we get through this?  It feels sooooo hard, so overwhelming, so endless.  And yet we've done this all before countless times.  I know what to do.  I just keep inviting You into the torture and mindlessness of it all.  I want  you to show me You are here, but I know You are.  Everytime I see the cardinal... and hear him sing...out here on my bird feeder, I know You are here.  ThankYou for Your romances seeking to infiltrate this dreadful encasing of my being.  I need them.  I need You."

He is what I need.  It sounds simple...wait on Him...rest in Him...focus on Him.  But I don't find it simple.  It's painstaking work to" take every thought captive to Christ."( 2 Cor. 10:5)  It's a challenge not to become disheartened.  It's laborious to once again accept life as it is and adjust accordingly. 

But it's what I'm seeking after...His kingdom(Matthew 6:33)...which is so not like my kingdom.  It's where I desire the Holy Spirit to direct me..."into the love of God and the steadfastness of Christ."(2 Thessalonians3:5)  This is truly my heart's passion.

And He must be passionate about me, because His romancing of my soul stirs me, ever so slowly yet purposefully.

I'm ever grateful God.

Eden

Eden...
perfect place of tranquility and beauty
but all too quickly marred by sin
leaving me with only Word-pictures
of heaven on earth.
Amidst the brokenness of this world
I struggle,
     strive to endure,
          seek to truly live...
because I too am broken. 

I'm asking...for more.
More of Your wind in my sails,
Your Son to light my path,
Your voice to break the silence,
Your touch when I grow weary,
Your hand to brush away the tears
Your eyes to see glimpses of Eden...
     here and now,
until one day I awaken with the
dawn's new light, and find that
I am...home."
July 26, 2006

Courage Defined

I have the "Concise Roget's International Thesaurus  lying on the desk in front of me.  I am looking to see how the experts define courage.  Words and phrases such as "brave, face up to, meet head-on, go eye-ball-to-eyeball, not shrink from, bite the bullet, grapple with, march up to the canon's mouth", all intended to define courage.  However, if I were called upon to give a precise definition for courage, I would write in bold, capital letters, a name or two.  Because I know people who embody courage.  One such person is my daughter...

ASHLEY.

Perhaps many would not identify hers as a courageous spirit.  For many reasons...some explained and some unexplained, my daughter struggles with  monsters of fear, worry...anxiety.  Her mother's genes no doubt contribute. (Sorry Sweet Pea)  And this ugly life-threatening nut allergy she has been dealt, seeks to eke out the care-free spirit I so wish she could  enjoy.  Regardless of the reasons, she is faced with these demons.  It's part of her brokenness.  But unlike so many, it's not kept in hiding.  She wears it on her sleeve.  Which honestly, I think in itself is courageous.  So often, we seek to hide our broken parts, not wanting anyone to see the ways in which we limp through life.  But not my girl.  She chooses to express her ruminating thoughts, and paralyzing anxiety, and in so doing,  "grapples with" all that threatens to steal life away from her.

It is in her grappling, that I see courage defined.  Day in and day out, I witness her "marching up to the canon's mouth".  I watch her step out and try something new even though she is shaking inside.  I stand with her as she goes eye-ball-to-eyeball with her own version of "Fear Factor"...just eating period.  That which you consume by the mouthful without even thinking, she constantly must question, in order to protect her life.  The things that go" bump" in her life are many.  She has the choice to shrink from or to "not shrink from".  

She reminds me of a swimmer whose long distance course is always fraught with white-capped waves.  She is ever being buffetted by something, and just when her strokes get her over the next wave, another is right there seeking to pull her under.  But she keeps swimming.


I have my own choices in this.  There's the reality that my mother-heart is so recklessly torn by watching her struggle.  Those times when I hold her as tears stream down her tortured face, wrecks me so severely.  This is so not the life I envisioned for my daughter.  And so I focus on another here and now...the character trait of courage growing within her.  I remind her and encourage her as she forges on.  I take her with me to God's throne room requesting courage for "whatever may face her today".  I place myself strategically in the role of cheerleading her into the next white-capped waves.  And truly, I thank God for the priviledge of walking this journey with her.

My daughter still enjoys life, but there's no doubt that the waters are never still for long.  Everyone once and awhile, I am privy to witnessing a beautiful scene...a glorious carefree spirit.  I think I bask in it almost as much as she does.  Heaven will indeed be paradise for her. 

For now, she is to me...courage defined.

The Extreme Gardener

My son has taken up gardening...in small spaces, as the books outline.  He started talking about this in the winter and had listed on his Christmas list...pots for a deck garden and a gift card to a greenhouse. Recently he had a conversation and borrowed some books from an avid gardener friend of ours.  He was hooked.  Then came the detailed planning.

He had already decided that a deck garden was too small, and started envisioning a larger area.   His suggestion of cutting down our gorgous Norway Maple tree to allow for more sunlight in our backyard, was VERY quickly nixed by my husband and I.

"NO".

But, we said we would happily allow him to dig up a small area near our deck, which would be gifted with the most sun possible.  He was game.  And so began his meticulous task of preparing the soil.  He chose to have two plots, side by side, but prepared with varied methods and materials.  In essence his purpose was to experiment with the pattern of growth in each plot.  

On Mother's Day, he hightailed it out to a store for the lumber, and then continued on to a greenhouse for his soil concoctions and vegetable seeds.  I've watched him involve himself in projects before....focused, intent, intense.  He is amazing to watch.  I must say, that I was very thankful that part of this project was done on Mother's Day, because it gave me an excuse not to offer my aid.  My Compost Unit had once occupied the space in which the garden plot to the left is now stationed.  What that meant, was ...you guessed it....the unit, AND the compost had to be moved.  Have you ever moved a half full compost unit?  Neither have I!!!!!  But my son and husband did, and let's just say that the aroma from this unit cannot be described as therapy.  But they did it...one shovel full at a time, transferred to the other end of the yard. (My husband was a trooper!)

Our deck was transformed into a woodworking shop, as my son measured, sawed, and began to build the fenced frame.  My husband had to practically drag him into the house to make a Mother's Day card for me, and assist with meal preparation.  As soon as the dishes were done, he was back to work, and stayed there until dark.  Did I mentioned that he was focused, intent...intense??

Last night he got the itch at 8:40 in the evening, to plant the seeds.  It was dark, cold, windy and raining.  But this was not a deterrent for him.  And of course he opted not to wear gloves, because they're just to cumbersome when handling seeds.  I was sure he  wouldn't last long, but at 10:25, when my husband and I went to bed, he was still planting!!!  (We have a sensored light on our deck, which enabled him to work, but every few minutes, when the light shut off, he would have to come up on to the deck and wave at the light, and then return to planting)  I was almost asleep when I heard him in the washroom around 10:45!

The Extreme Gardener...that's my best title for him.  Of course there are others...crazy, insane(that's my husband's)...you pick yours, but I like Extreme.  And it's got me thinking...about the gardening of our souls, and whether anyone would place such a title on you or I?

Are we extreme when it comes to preparing our hearts for growth?  Do you seek hard after wisdom, read your "manual" for growing?  Am I focused, intent...intense, about the work that needs to be done in me?  And what about the times when we come across an area that requires some upheaval, with just a bit...or maybe a lot of "smell" to it?  Are we willing to work at it, one shovel full at a time, to allow for fresh growth?  Will I do whatever it takes for the soil of my soul to welcome seeds for growth...regardless of having to work in the dark, or the rain, or with the wind swirling around me.  Some challenging questions for all of us.  What will your answer be to the question: 

Will I be an Extreme Gardener?

Happy Mother's Day...to Me!!!!!!

What a lovely, relaxing Mother's Day.   I relaxed the entire afternoon, reading and lounging about.  It felt strange as my family scurried around the kitchen preparing supper.  I requested fingerling potatoes which my son is so deftly turning(while he elbow's his sister).

My hubby barbecued delicious chicken, and was clearly the organizer of this entire "event".  Thanks my sweetheart. 

Ashley was pro at setting the table...oh, and she would of course want me to add that she helped with the beans!!!!

Beautiful cards and much love was showered on me by my hubby and children.

We are quite the crew!  I love them to pieces, and value these times of fun and togetherness.  My son already asked me at supper to run an errand for him tomorrow.  I guess that means I'm back on "duty" at the crack of dawn.  That's ok.  I don't mind.  I quite enjoy serving my family.  It's one of my callings in life....this domestic engineering job.  And judging from the cards I received, my "reviews" are way up there!!

Thanks for a wonderful day...I love you all!!

I Have Arrived

I have experienced a growing sense of unrest in my spirit this week.  I know why, it's not as though it's some phantom lurking in the recesses of my mind.  In truth, I'm not sure which is worse...to know why I am feeling this increasing uneasiness, or to be searching for the reason behind it.

Because I really don't want "it" here.  This awareness of a place in my heart that needs to grow is hard for me to face.  I've been here before, and I don't like it.  It's going to involve struggle, soul-searching, exposing my vulnerability. Honestly, I've been tempted to turn and high tail it out of here.  I'm just tired.  Tired of yet another piece of me that is damaged, defective, sinful.  I'm tired of never seeming to "pull it all together".

I sat alone in the pew at church this morning.  Alone with God.  I closed my eyes to talk with Him, and to send a message to anyone nearby..."please don't talk with me now."  The service had not yet started, but my my heart was so ready to hear His voice.  I needed for Him to talk with me, to somehow calm the building turmoil within.

I find it so beautiful how God just swoops in so quickly, yet so quietly.  Conversation and movement all around me, but within me, His Spirit has just penetrated the churning mass of thoughts.  He did so by reminding me of some poignant words from my Spiritual Director.  She had  spoken them to me several months ago, during a conversation in which I had expressed my angst over always having some area of my heart needing reconstruction.  I had lamented to her, "I feel like I will never arrive."  Her response caught my heart.

"I think of arriving as being in relationship with Jesus."

And in the pew this morning, the Spirit brought  those words right back.  I have arrived!!!  Oh maybe not from a human perspective, but from a spiritual perspective...from Jesus' perspective...I have arrived.  There is nothing I can add to my relationship with Him.  Colossians 2:10 breathes these life-giving words...."In Him you have been made complete."  And in John 8:36 Jesus Himself offers this promise..."If therefore the Son shall make you free, you shall be free indeed."

I don't know what lies ahead of me.  I don't know what tearing down and rebuilding will be required.  I don't know how long the process will take or what will be required of me to cooperate with Him.  But I do know, that being in relationship with Jesus, means that I am complete.  I do know that regardless of this restlessness of spirit, I am free, in the deepest sense possible.  And I do know that despite journeying down yet another road, towards Christ-likeness... in the purest, fullest, wildest way possible, "I have arrived."