Riddle

I found a universe in a room -
A thousand worlds stilled.


What is it?

Shy smile. . .

"Oh - I remember you!"

Her face brightened from behind the tall counter. Twirling the sign-in pen I tried to match her face among the hundreds of other hospital employees that I've met during the past months of chemo and surgery. . . No results found.

"I drew your blood when you came into the ER! How are you doing? Did they figure out what was wrong?"

Her warm remembrance surprised me. An obscure late night over 8 months ago? Remembered among countless other patients on her shift? Shy shoe-scuffing bewilderment.

Briefly summarizing the past months I tried to show how much God has blessed. It is good to recount His provision. And today she is one of them - offering the gift of remembrance.

If humans can be so gracious - what then does it mean to be remembered by God's heart?

Micheal and Christina

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

When Divinity Storms

The storm mist swirls into the porch and sparks little snowflake sensations on my face and bare arms. Clattering rain on the tin roof overhead nearly clouds out the background tympani of thunder. I inhale deeply. The moistened air heavy with the scent of life. Its as if the whole world has been given a breath mint and when the downpour subsides its eyes are wide open.

I remember rain.

Dark rain coursing down sad windows.
Sun sparkled rain tickling the surface of lake waters above.
Cold European drizzles on narrow cobblestone streets.
Dashing into steamy Brazilian torrents to snatch the laundry from the lines.
Sharing an umbrella while selling books of hope to strangers.
Puddle jumping and all out mud fights.
Rain drenched skin and the joy of living.
Both funerals and weddings christened with graceful rain.
And the hope in Christmas lights is never so poignantly clear as on a bitter and blustery winter day.

It has been said by art instructors that "The shadow is as important as the light." The truth of this in two dimensions is ever more evident in our multidimensional existence. How quick I am to forget. Our tangible surroundings are always holding hands with spiritual truths. The truth of recognizing the shadows of God.

The warrior David describes the dark majesty of God rescuing him in Psalm 18. This psalm is a hymn of gratefulness penned on the day that the Lord delivered him from all his enemies and from the hand of Saul. Perhaps this is a poetic rendition of a specific event where God used a literal storm to protect him from his enemies.

"He bowed down the heavens also, and came down with darkness under His feet.
And He rode upon a cherub and flew; He flew upon the wings of the wind.
He made darkness His secret place; His canopy around Him was dark waters and thick clouds of the skies. . . ." (vs. 9-11)

"He sent from above, He took me. He drew me out of many waters.
He also brought me out into a broad place, He delivered me because He delighted in me." (vs. 16, 19)

This is no pastel portrait of divinity on a sunny picnic. It is a rich word palate with all the colors of a storm. Ripped strength and raw energy pulse forward to culminate in a miraculous rescue. A reminder that God is not just present in serene pastures but also in the shadows of death. That God himself is a warrior fighting for the defense and justice of those who trust Him. The stalwart truth about God in storms.

My God is not a placid God. His storms have purpose. His shadows are strength.
And even if I am not the one to witness the rescue,
His gift of rain cycles on.

A Milestone

Today I made bread for the first time since early January! I absolutely love making bread, but I haven't had the energy to do it or much else in the cooking department. So taking advantage of a window of relative perkiness before my next round of chemo, I mixed and poured and smiled! I had to sit down and put the bowl on a chair in front of me to knead it. This method worked quite well - and the tall brown loaves turned out delicious! I forgot to take pictures of the end result - but you know what bread looks like :)

Grateful today for:

Serenades
Baby birds still learning to fly
Guitar music
Flour on my hands
Flax seed
Vacuumed carpet
Stationary
Books by Elizabeth Elliot
Crusty fresh slices of bread
Cold cantaloupe melting in my mouth
Soft hats
Scarves of color
Basil plants
New rootlets sprouting on cuttings
Brilliant zinnias on the table

Detangler

There are some days when the mind jumbles up questions like toss salad and they get all tangled in my brain. For this tumbled mess I have found two things in particular that make a pretty good detangler for my thought processor.

1. Long walks to anywhere.
2. Writing.

It isn't my duty to provide the answers - God will do that in His time. My job is to patiently search and honestly ask the right questions. Here are some questions I penned this week:

God,

What is your will?
What is the regret index of life?
How am I to love with all my heart?
What enables one to live beyond the boundaries of Christian cliches?
How can I remain centered in the riptides of life?
Where does the line between doing my best and manipulation fall?
When is the appropriate time to speak?
What failures have distracted me from my life purpose?
Am I really trusting You?
Is anything obscuring my vision?
Am I being diligent today?
How can I build my endurance for the road ahead?
Am I choosing joy?
Can I remain graceful under the weight of silence?
What is balance?
How am I to live out hope?
Have I accepted Your acceptance?

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.