My Grandma

When I was little - I most strongly associated my grandma with good books. Mostly because she would always bring books for us grandkids every time she visited! Through the years I have learned more of the dimensions of her character and beautiful heart. And this is just a little glimpse of one of my favorite people. . .

(photo by my mom)

My grandma is adventurous, fun-loving, and the most practical and hard working person I know. I love listening to her incredible stories of God's provision in hard times. Some of my favorites coming from the years she and Papa worked in Brazil. This next picture is when we were walking down an old road out in the jungle together. A wonderful memory in which we walked with multiple Blue Morpho butterflies floating their iridescence down the trail.



Her name is Ardis Opal - and she is

an organizational genius.

Prepared for everything.
And can mend or fix anything!

She really enjoys playing softball.
She really doesn't like broccoli.
She likes the color purple.
And she loves time with her family!

I love -
Her neatly written lists for everything and spotlessly scrubbed house.
Her marked up Sabbath school lessons filled with good notes.

How she underlines good magazine articles and cuts them out to share.
How much fun she and her siblings have when they get together!

I love -
Listening to her sing - because her heart has walked the words.

Meandering along footpaths as she points out different bird calls.

Listening to her chattering along in Portuguese with an English accent.

And her little intonations of delight when she sees something she likes.

I love -
That she would rather finish a meal with something salty than sweet.

Her canoe camping pictures from Canadian wilderness treks.
Our relatives in Brazil - who are family because of her big heart.

Her steady faith through each stage of life - even widowhood.

I love -
That God bloomed surprise for her in an unexpected place and my grandma fell in love - head over heels in love! And that this past April she married a wonderful man. Their journey together this year has spilled beauty over into the lives of all around them.

I love you Grandma!

Embroidered Poetry

My heart stuttered and stammered that this couldn't be for me. Completely over come by such extravagance. But during this past year of my journey with cancer, hundreds of fingers were threading their prayers into tangible expressions of hope and love. From all around the country - even the world - an organizational feat!
Each square a miracle of grace. Such exquisite art, incredible colors, precious memories and my favorite verses and hymns! The hearts of my dear friends quilted together in one piece. What love! And isn't this the body of Christ? Such beauty, warmth, and hope!

Gently I carried it home, and though the thermometer was dipping to 18 degrees the tenderness in the quilt warmed me to my core. Curling up on the couch I opened it wide all around. I looked up each verse and traced each stitch with my fingertips for hours. . . to late to tell. Simply Marveling.

And when I count my blessings ~ I count each of you many times over!
Thank you!!!

A Birth Certificate for Infinity

Contemplative glow. The lights warm the spiced pine cones and the branches of the tree standing at my window are heavy with fragrance. Cinnamon scents mingling with evergreen life and cedar curls spiraling down. I sit in a light circle of peace and a single candle flickers reflections.


Slowly I turn this puzzle. . .

When Infinity completed gestation. God - waiting nine months to grow fingernails and eyelashes and skin. And while our little earth spun steady around its' sun, the Son of God turned in the amniotic fluid of the tummy of a girl. A simple girl in an obscure corner of the planet that swarmed with uprisings and massacres. A small girl in a small country occupied by enemy forces and terrorized by guerrilla warfare.

Infinity entered our time. On a government enforced march in the unsanitary parking lot behind a local motel and convenience store. Birthed bloody and vulnerable just as each of us were. Divinity receiving the time stamp of our existence - a birth certificate into humanity. A Branch on a family tree. And how could human hands parent God? Protect this peace of transplanted heaven?

How could God think this mission was safe? No insurance for this venture into darkness. No assurance of success. It leaves me stilled in awe - this embryonic Love. Patiently growing until the fullness of time in both death and life. God - who is One - seeking oneness with humanity. With me. This Gift - the only way to restoration.

"Love to man is the earthward manifestation of the love of God.

It was to implant this love, to make us children of one family, that the King of glory became one with us.

And when His parting words are fulfilled, "Love one another, as I have loved you",

when we love the world as He has loved it, then for us His mission is accomplished.

We are fitted for heaven; for we have heaven in our hearts."
~Desire of Ages p. 641

When these words are fulfilled. . .

This is the piece for all puzzles - the truest fulfillment of our dreams. When I love the world as He has loved it, then for me His mission is accomplished. I am fitted for heaven; for I have heaven in my heart. Simplicity most intricate!

This world can be a prickly thing to love. And I still do not love it - thick with crime and dirt, hate and indifference. Yet even my apathy contributes to darkness. No life is neutral.

But His gift internalized plants the seed of Love. Steady. Softly growing, creating grace for others. Vision of hope. Seeing each person with all the dignity as family to God.


Will I let love swell to completeness - to peace? Will I choose to love the world as He loved? Will I let the heaven fill my heart?

Micheal and Christina

May Gods sweetest blessings lift you ever higher in His joy.

To my Shaila Rose:

I remember your swaddled smallness that night when I snuck out of my room to stand on tiptoe and lift you out of your crib. There in the darkness your tears slipped away to the rhythm of the rocking chair. My little four-year-old heart swelled to bursting with something bigger than words. . . Have I ever told you this: you are my first memory of loving someone?

We grew side by side. Me spinning yarns of words and you making something useful with the yarn. You always surprised me with your boldness and courage even in the dark. And oh - the tepees and forts we built! The leaf piles and tire swing gymnastics, ballet recitals, swimming games and silly wrestling matches. And who knows how many times we crossed the great plains with that little red wagon and built a homestead in the wild frontier!

Our feet have worn the same shoes, sloughed through the same mud, and stood on stubborn ground. You have held me in a downpour of rain and tears and imparted wisdom beyond your years. And though some days it seems that we are as opposite as fire and water, there are many other days it feels as if we are twins. Our stride is well matched for this relay of life. Each in turn carrying the other. Sometimes simply sitting side-by-side. And when I listen to you sing, my soul soars along with your angel voice.

And you, my angel rose, have blossomed. From a tiny wonder of life who toddled after me into an inspiring friend upon whose strength I can lean. This sister metamorphosis - a heart journey from God. I treasure you!

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So, dear friend, while life is joyous and full it is also fleeting and frail. Please tell someone today how much they mean to you. Words of cherishing love will never be regretted.

When Love sits on the ground. . .

Her face is tender in the warm lampglow. And even though I know her back is tired my roommate sits on the floor bent low.

Over my feet.

Steaming in the pan of water they are unlocking my tightness - all the way to my brain. Gently she lifts and dries them. A trust - for few people can touch my ticklish feet.

Cradling my foot against her knee she presses away the tension of lifeweight they carried all day. My toes nearly poking her neck. She doesn't mind. Her face is tilted gracefully - artist-like. As if she were playing a soulful cello line rather then restoring the soles of my feet.

And I, sitting up in this soft chair, am humbled deep by her nightly gift. The gift of humility. . . of communion. And in her hands, in her eyes - the resemblance of Christ.

Love lavished with no demand for returns lifts us into its purest realm.

For I do not yet have the strength to soak and massage her feet. And none of the disciples even thought to offer to rinse the Saviors tired, dirty feet after Love sat on the ground tending to their souls.

Endless and eternal lesson to learn!

I feel that I am only ever beginning - with tentative childish toes at edge of this vastness. My inner pride shrinking as the universe expanding makes room for love. And I am the "least of these" for someone in this intricate circle. A gift that is sometimes hard to accept. But it brings release and that same sense of smallness that comes from seeing a long ways off.

Beautiful. This unassuming way my God restores heart vision.

By Love bending low.

Comfort Spills

God

The Father of all mercies.
The God of all comfort.

Comforts me.

In all my tribulation.So that I may be able to comfort anyone in trouble. With God comfort.

As suffering abounds in me, my consolation in Christ abounds.

If I am afflicted, if I am comforted, it is because God is able to bring salvation and comfort to others that will enable them to endure, to persevere along their own earth journey.

And my hope for you is strong and sure. I know from personal experience that your suffering will never outweigh the consolation of God's comfort.

Life's burdens are immeasurable - beyond the capabilities of my strength.

Even though I have the sentence of death in myself . . . in this present case - stage III cancer. . . I learn to not trust myself - but to trust my God - the God who raises the dead. Who also resurrects the dead places of my heartscape, bringing quietude, grace, and life.

God has delivered me from the death of hope. He is delivering. He will continue to deliver.

And you, dear ones, by joining in prayer for and with me, create a geyser of human gratitude for the gift of our God's comfort and grace.

A gift that grows from heart to heart.

Paraphrased by Caitlin

2nd Corinthians Chapter 1:3-11