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Sweet Baby; One.

July 10, 2011 in Reflections with 1 Comment

One year ago today, I was inside a hospital room, my eyes closed tight to the pain that came in unrelenting waves; searing, burning pain. Wave after wave after wave, crashing and taking me down until it seemed too much. Until finally.  Finally, the sweet relief of being emptied and filled to overflowing all at once as my son was born and laid on my chest.

A tiny bundle of love.  A perfect fit in my arms.

The rolling, the sitting, the standing, the walking, the running, the climbing. They all have joined us now. The babbling and the noises; the jumble of words that is making its way out. The hands that love to find the buttons; to clap; to wave. The ears that love the music and body that can’t help but dance to his favorite; Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture. The smiles; his eyes that light from within and spill out joy. The kisses; a wet sloppy letter O that presses against my cheek. The hugs; arms that now wrap a neck and squeeze, the giving back of what he has been given. The games of chase and hide. The learning; the being told no; the will that is emerging. The nose that crinkles; in wonder, delight, surprise, mischief; pureness of emotions.  The laugh that erupts and bubbles out; contagious.

All this, and too much more for my heart to tell you; 365 days have filled.

This day of your birth, I say to you, Happy Birthday my sweet boy. This year of discovering life with you has been immense and yet so quick. I never knew all that my heart could hold until I held you in my arms. My arms will never be too small, or you too big; sweet baby, who today, you are one!

The continual sound of pure happy

July 6, 2011 in Reflections with 1 Comment

My son woke up from his afternoon nap, early; crying. Large fat tears clinging to the corners of his eyes, sliding down his cheeks. I picked him up. My mom arms wrapped around his little self. His head burrowed into my neck and the crying stopped.

We sat in the rocking chair, his back against chest. He was still and peaceful, enjoying the continuation of his rest, even if he is now awake.

And then he pulled the blanket over his face.

A pause. “Where is my baby?”

Then pushing it back down to his legs.

“Peek!! There you are!”

I could feel the laughter roll through him. Feel his body shake with laughter under my hands. I couldn’t see his face but I could feel his face change, the crinkle in his nose, his eyes light up.

Then again.

He pulled the blanket over his face,

A pause. “Where is my little guy?”

Pushing it back down to his legs.

“Peek! There you are!”

Again the raw wave of laughter; such delight.

Again and again and again.  And still, again.

We rocked in the chair hiding and finding and laughing. Until there was no break between the blanket up and down and the laughter; it was one fluid movement of sound. Repeating and repeating. Until beneath my hands I could feel the hiccups take over his body. And still we rocked and still we laughed.

The continual sound of pure happy.

Healing for my heart.

The cost of adding

June 30, 2011 in Reflections with 0 Comments

A friend and her husband are in Ethiopia for a court date in the adoption process of adopting two boys. They got to meet the boys for the first time the other day and her updates via facebook have been emotion filled.  Yesterday, shortly after reading a status update that said she was 30 minutes away from meeting her sons for the first time, I left the house and was running errands with my own son. I was pulling out of our neighborhood and though of her in a room halfway around the world meeting her sons and tears pricked at my eyes.

The first meeting of your child is so sweet. Beforehand there is much waiting, praying, uncomfortable feelings, struggles, wondering, and the waiting, the waiting, the waiting. And then all that surge of pressure and pain, anticipation, until finally, finally they are there and your heart explodes with love the first moment you lay eyes on that child. Yours.

I thought of this lovely woman with two biological children of her own standing in that room with her two new sons, meeting them for the first time. For her to stand there and tell them she chooses them, she will always choose them, they have a family in her and her husband; siblings waiting in the states.

There is always pain in adding to your family. There is always a cost. If the children come through biology there is the physical pain of birthing, the cost of hospital bills, the cost of your body. If the children come through adoption there is the cost of agencies, sometimes emotional pain, the pain of not knowing how long the gestation period will be.

There is always a cost and some days that cost seems steep, almost too high.

And then you have a doctors appointment and you hear the wild galloping of the baby’s heartbeat.
You get a letter from a lawyer, an agency; things are getting close.
Your hands raise in praise and you count the cost.

You have a doctors appointment and you hear words like syndromes, need to run the test again.
You get news from the government of the country you are adopting from, new laws are in place – all adoptions are suspended.
You bend your knees in prayer, not understanding but trusting God will make a way, you count the cost.

Whatever the cost is in adding to your family, when you see that child for the first time you would gladly pay it again and again and again. That first glimpse of your child and for them you would pay a steep price.

The image of Christ on the cross is so vivid to me, so clear. The pain He felt in adding humanity to his family.

The surge of pressure and pain He felt, the tearing in His body, not from birthing a baby, but from absorbing sin into His perfect sinless body and how it tore Him apart and made Him bleed out. Until finally, finally, He breathed his last, surrendered His life and His heart exploded with salvation.

For Him there was the ultimate cost; He felt the cost dearly, He counted the cost.

He saw my face and He paid the price for me.

He chose us. He will always choose us.

Feet to feel the blessings

June 27, 2011 in Reflections with 0 Comments

We just got home from a summer family vacation to the Oregon Coast. Days filled with relaxation, laughter, family, worship, and adventure. Trips to the ocean and the endless expanse of water and sand. My baby’s first trip to the ocean, the first time to feel the cold Pacific wash over his feet; to feel the sand grainy under foot.

I was looking at the photos from the trip this morning and I came to this one and my first thought was: blessings.

I thought of all the blessing in my life. How many? So many.  Too many to count.  But isn’t that what I am supposed to do.  Cout my blessing; name them one by one.

I thought of sand. How many grains of sand are in just this frame? Millions and millions and then more.

Just like the blessings in my life, every day; millions and millions and then more.  In just one day; just one frame of life.

And lots of times I walk over them. Walk on top of them. Not even notice them. Have shoes on and not feel them. Not take the time to stop and feel and look at them.

The blessings that stick to my skin like sand if I take off my shoes and walk; and stop and feel them slide between my toes.  Grainy reminders stuck on my skin, blessings, each and every one of them.

Blessings that are millions and millions and then more; every day – from God just for me.

Count your blessings, name them one by one,
Count your blessings, see what God hath done!
Count your blessings, name them one by one,
And it will surprise you what the Lord hath done.
-Johnson Oatman Jr.

Forgetful – Part 2

June 15, 2011 in Reflections with 1 Comment

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Psalm 103

1 Bless the LORD, O my soul,
and all that is within me,
bless his holy name!
2 Bless the LORD, O my soul,
and forget not all his benefits,
3who forgives all your iniquity,
who heals all your diseases,
4who redeems your life from the pit,
who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy,
5who satisfies you with good
so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.
6The LORD works righteousness
and justice for all who are oppressed.
7He made known his ways to Moses,
his acts to the people of Israel.
8The LORD is merciful and gracious,
slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.
9 He will not always chide,
nor will he keep his anger forever.
10He does not deal with us according to our sins,
nor repay us according to our iniquities.
11For as high as the heavens are above the earth,
so great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him;
12as far as the east is from the west,
so far does he remove our transgressions from us.
13As a father shows compassion to his children,
so the LORD shows compassion to those who fear him.
14For he knows our frame;
he remembers that we are dust.

Again looking at Psalm 103 King David starts of blessing God. Remembering truths about God to keep his soul in a posture of blessing, giving thanks. Then in verse 12 he writes, “as far as the east is from the west, so far does he remove our transgressions from us.” Transgressions, wrongdoings, sins. They are taken from us and flung as far as the east is from the west.

I heard Casting Crown’s song East to West on the radio yesterday morning. It is what started all this thinking on being forgetful. Here is the first verse of the song.

Here I am, Lord, and I’m drowning in your sea of forgetfulness
The chains of yesterday surround me
I yearn for peace and rest
I don’t want to end up where You found me
And it echoes in my mind, keeps me awake tonight
I know You’ve cast my sin as far as the east is from the west

That first line really jarred me. And I kept turning that one phrase over and over in my mind, “I’m drowning in your sea of forgetfulness.”

A long time ago I used to be a lifeguard. The job is in the title – guard life, keep it alive, keep a person from drowning. Generally speaking, drowning is a bad thing.  Not something you want to do.

As the song kept playing I kept thinking about that line, “I’m drowning in your sea of forgetfulness.”

Maybe this drowning is a good thing.

What is the opposite of drowning? Swimming, right? Swimming is active. I am doing something. I am moving through the water. I’m alive. Which, generally speaking, being alive is a good thing. But maybe I could be swimming in the wrong direction.  Or swimming for the wrong reasons.

The song kept playing, I was still thinking when I heard these lines…

I start the day, the war begins, endless reminding of my sin
Time and time again Your truth is drowned out by the storm I’m in…

There is that word again – drowned. This time though it’s not the singer who is drowning.  It is the truths of God that are being drowned out by life. The water thrashing all around pushing the truths of God further away, further down. You can’t see them. You forget them.

My mind is swirling with the images of me drowning in a sea of God’s forgetfulness and then the image of an endless reminding of my sins causing the waters to churn and God’s truth to be drowned.

Then I start to realize that maybe this storm that is causing the waters to churn and God’s truths to be forgotten is me thrashing in the water. Where does the endless reminders of my sins come from? Lots of times they come from my memory. Satan brings sin reminders back to my mind and tries to wound me all over again with them. And when he does this those sin reminders are what I’m looking at, what I’m keeping in front of my eyes. What I am desperately clinging to, thrashing the water as I go.

In lifeguard training we had to tread water holding a brick over our heads and your chin couldn’t touch the water. It was an exercise in strength, endurance.

When Satan whispers those endless reminders of my sins and my memory goes back to whatever that is. It’s like I grab that brick of sin and I hold on to it and tread the water. It’s my focus. I am remembering sin and holding on to it.  Clutching that brick of sin I struggle to keep my chin from touching the water under the weight of it.  Struggle to keep myself from going under; drowning.

The truths of God are drowned out in my treading water because I am focusing on the wrong thing.

When what needs to drown is me.

Colossians 3:1-11
1 If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. 2 Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth. 3For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. 4When Christ who is your life appears, then you also will appear with him in glory. 5 Put to death therefore what is earthly in you: sexual immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire, and covetousness, which is idolatry. 6 On account of these the wrath of God is coming. 7 In these you too once walked, when you were living in them. 8But now you must put them all away: anger, wrath, malice,slander, and obscene talk from your mouth. 9 Do not lie to one another, seeing that you have put off the old self with its practices 10and have put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge after the image of its creator. 11Here there is not Greek and Jew, circumcised and uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave, free; but Christ is all, and in all.

If I let go of that brick and stop treading water and let myself be immersed in the sea of God’s forgetfulness I will finally live. I need to put to death what is earthly inside of me. Sins. I need to stop remembering, holding on to, killing myself over the memory of sins.

Because God’s forgetfulness is amazing.

King Hezekiah prays this to God in Isaiah 38:17
17 Behold, it was for my welfare
that I had great bitterness;
but in love you have delivered my life
from the pit of destruction,
for you have cast all my sins
behind your back.

God puts our sins; all of them, yes, even that ugly one, behind His back. He can’t see them. He doesn’t remember them. He doesn’t bring them back to torment us with them. On the cross, He stretched his arms as wide as east is from the west and he bled, he died, and then he rose again to grant us freedom, forgiveness, and His astoundingly merciful sea of forgetfulness.

The picture at the beginning of these two posts is of that of the forget-me-not flower. This morning I had the image of there being offered to me two bouquets of these forget-me-not flowers.

On one side there is Satan who longs for me to take his offered bouquet of forget-not-my-sins. It keeps me thrashing in the waters, regretting, reliving, remorseful. It keeps me dead to the life giving truths of God.

On the other side is God who offers the sweet bouquet of forget-not-His-benefits that lead to life. The kind where I can dive head first into His sea of forgetfulness and be drowned in it. Where I sink deeper and deeper into his measureless grace and truths. Ones that tell me to put off my old self, where I was a slave to sin, the one where I was treading water holding a brick over my head. And to put on the new self. A sea of God’s forgetfulness where it is truth, not lies, that are in front of my face. A sea of forgetfulness where I can drown in the truths of God and where I actually remember truths that make me thank him all the more.

Don’t forget that God forgives all your wicked acts.
Don’t forget that God heals your diseases.
Don’t forget that God snatched you out of the pit.
Don’t forget that God heaps you with love and mercy.
Don’t forget that God satisfies you with good so you can carry on.

It’s that kind of remembering that I need.  That kind of purposeful, intent remembering.

A constant drowning in order to live.

And so I wonder, which bouquet are you swimming toward?

{image credit: jon carpenter}

 

Forgetful – Part 1

June 14, 2011 in Reflections with 1 Comment

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We are a forgetful people.

Trips to the grocery store only to return home and remember that one item; forgotten.
Dates, times, places; things that slip our minds; forgotten.
The name of a new person, introduced; forgotten.

Those are pretty benign. We forget names or appointments or to buy cans of soup.

Forgetting happens in relationships too. I once received a letter from a friend as we were starting to climb out of a rocky patch between us and she told me that she had forgotten all the sweet things about our friendship.

How does that happen? How do we forget? Why do we forget?

Forget:
to cease or fail to remember; be unable to recall.
to omit or neglect unintentionally.
to leave behind unintentionally; neglect to take.

There is a stopping when we forget. We become lazy to the remembering. The recounting. We fail to remember. And like the definitions from dictionary.com says, it can be unintentional. We might not mean to.  It might not be our intent, it just happens.

If forgetting can be unintentional, then we need to be intentional about remembering.

God knew this. He knew we would forget.

Deuteronomy 6:4-9
Hear, O Israel: The LORD our GOD, the LORD is one. You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might. And these words that I command you today shall be on your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise. You shall bind them as a sign on your hand, and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes. You shall write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.

It’s hard to forget if you are in love. You remember things when you are in love. A constant bringing to mind of sweet words whispered, notes given and received. Glances. Moments. You cherish and remember them because you love. That’s what God is saying here in Deuteronomy. “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might.” Love is hard sometimes. So hang on to it with everything you have – your heart, soul and strength. And when you are teaching your children this fierce love for God you shall do it diligently – or with intent. Talking of it constantly, everywhere, every time.  Always. It’s hard to forget something that’s right in front of your face because you should be constantly looking at it; remembering. The truths of God should be bound to you.

Solomon uses the same vivid language of remembering in Proverbs 3.

Proverbs 3:1-3
My son, do not forget my teaching,
but let your heart keep my commandments,
for length of days and years of life
and peace they will add to you.
Let not steadfast love and faithfulness forsake you;
bind them around your neck;
write them on the tablet of your heart.

I love the images in both Deuteronomy and Proverbs of binding truth around ourselves so we won’t forget.

I can often be a slow learner. I need reminders all. the. time. So I got a tattoo. It’s on the inside of my left foot. It’s in Swahili. It says “Kwa Imani.” Which translates to “With Faith.” I see it every day. A black inked reminder on my skin that today, this moment, this step needs to be with faith. I didn’t want to forget, because I am so forgetful. I wanted to remember. I had it permanently placed on my foot.

It is the ruin of many marriages; unintentional forgetting. It is not your intent on your wedding day, while you stand dressed to the nines, holding the hand of your beloved, to months or years later slip, slide, slither or flat out run from your marriage. But somewhere along life together you forget your commitment. You forget your vows. You forget your promise. You forget your love. You forgot. You were unintentional in remembering.

And then there is Psalm 103. The lyrics of King David. He starts off blessing, or giving thanks back to God. He can’t help it, he says his soul and every tiny molecule within him, is longing to bless God. Bless God, don’t forget; he is still using the same breath, bless God, don’t forget. They have to go hand in hand. Bless God, don’t forget. He listed a few things to remember. To make his soul stir with blessing back to God; things he didn’t want to forget. Things he wanted to be intentional in remembering. Things to keep in front of his face. Bound to him.

Don’t forget that God forgives all your wicked acts.
Don’t forget that God heals your diseases.
Don’t forget that God snatched you out of the pit.
Don’t forget that God heaps you with love and mercy.
Don’t forget that God satisfies you with good so you can carry on.

Psalm 103:1-5
1 Bless the LORD, O my soul,
and all that is within me,
bless his holy name!
2 Bless the LORD, O my soul,
and forget not all his benefits,
3who forgives all your iniquity,
who heals all your diseases,
4who redeems your life from the pit,
who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy,
5who satisfies you with good
so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.

Be intentional. Diligent.

Remember Truth. Bind it to you so you won’t forget.

Bless the Lord, o my soul, and all that is within me bless His holy name.

{image credit: jon carpenter}

Leaning

June 8, 2011 in Reflections with 0 Comments

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When I lean, I shift my weight from one direction to the other.  Pressing it against the wall, or chair, or whatever it happens to be that I am leaning against. It generally isn’t all that sturdy of a position to be standing in. Because if that wall moved, or the chair I was leaning against slid out from under me, I’d fall. Because when you lean, generally all your weight is against what you are leaning against.

A few Sundays ago we sang Leaning on the Everlasting arms by Elisha Hoffman

What a fellowship, what a joy divine,
Leaning on the everlasting arms;
What a blessedness, what a peace is mine,
Leaning on the everlasting arms.

Refrain:
Leaning, leaning, safe and secure from all alarms;
Leaning, leaning, leaning on the everlasting arms.

Oh, how sweet to walk in this pilgrim way,
Leaning on the everlasting arms;
Oh, how bright the path grows from day to day,
Leaning on the everlasting arms.

What have I to dread, what have I to fear,
Leaning on the everlasting arms?
I have blessed peace with my Lord so near,
Leaning on the everlasting arms.

And do you know what hit me? The first line of the refrain. Leaning, Leaning, safe and secure from all alarms.

How exactly is leaning safe and secure? Leaning seems off balance to me.  If I’m leaning and what I’m leaning against moves, I’ll fall. Gravity will win, not me. So how is that a safe and secure posture?

Next line of the refrain. Leaning, Leaning, Leaning on the everlasting arms.

Ahh, yes, those arms are strong and they won’t move.  They won’t shift.  They won’t drop me.

I’ve leaned against myself, it is a funny mental picture, but it’s true. I’ve leaned against what I know, or my own feeble strength or ability. I’ve leaned against dreams or ideas. I’ve leaned against you and you and even you. And all those things I’ve leaned against, they’ve moved and shifted and I’ve fallen. Maybe you’ve leaned against me and I’ve moved and you’ve fallen.

It all depends where I lean.

King Solomon knew that. He knew I’d forget so it wrote it down for me to remember in Proverbs 3:5.
5Trust in the LORD with all your heart,
and do not lean on your own understanding.

Don’t do it, he’s saying. Don’t you dare lean on your own understanding. He was the wisest king ever  and he looks us in the face and says, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, don’t lean on your own understanding.”

“Leaning, Leaning, safe and secure from all alarms.” All alarms.  Not some.  Not most.  Not a few.  All.

To get to a place of  safety and security I have to lean on the everlasting arms.

The Psalmist knew it when he wrote Psalm 71. It has the title of “Forsake me not when my strength is spent.” Sounds like a good time to be leaning to me. Here are the first 6 verses of this particular psalm.

Psalm 71

Forsake Me Not When My Strength Is Spent

1 In you, O LORD, do I take refuge;
let me never be put to shame!
2In your righteousness deliver me and rescue me;
incline your ear to me, and save me!
3Be to me a rock of refuge,
to which I may continually come;
you have given the command to save me,
for you are my rock and my fortress.
4 Rescue me, O my God, from the hand of the wicked,
from the grasp of the unjust and cruel man.
5For you, O Lord, are my hope,
my trust, O LORD, from my youth.
6Upon you I have leaned from before my birth;
you are he who took me from my mother’s womb.
My praise is continually of you.

The truth of the matter is that today I feel like my strength is spent. I’ve felt sapped from the moment I woke up this morning.  Drained emotionally, physically, spiritually. My strength is spent today. It’s almost counterintuitive to lean right now. I can’t see those arms, those everlasting arms. And yet I have to pick myself up, shift my weight from leaning against whatever it is I have been leaning against that has left me feeling spent, and Trust in the Lord with all my heart and lean not on my own understanding.

I have to lean.

What have I to dread, what have I to fear,
Leaning on the everlasting arms?
I have blessed peace with my Lord so near,
Leaning on the everlasting arms.

{Image credit: elise hurst}

Forgetting to get dressed

June 2, 2011 in Reflections with 0 Comments

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sometimes I forget to get dressed.

It’s not as scandalous as it sounds. I get dressed every day. T-shirt and jeans. Smart wool socks on cold days. Filp-flops on warm days. Every once and awhile something fancy. Every once and a while, when feeling particularly hippie, the tie-dye muu-muu I bought in Mombassa Kenya. But mostly I’m a t-shirt and jeans kind of dresser.

Sometimes I forget to really get dressed. The things that matter. The things that keep me from falling apart.

A compassionate heart.
Kindness.
Humility.
Meekness.
Patience.
Bearing With.
Forgiveness.

Colossians 3:12-17
12 Put on then, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, 13 bearing with one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. 14And above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. 15And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body. And be thankful. 16Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God. 17And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.

Once I’m wearing all of those cinched tight around myself so they won’t shake off in the battle of the day. Then and only then can I put on love. Above all those other things, put on love. It binds them all together. Keeps things where they need to be so my compassionate heart, kindness, humility, meekness, patience, bearing with one another, forgiveness doesn’t leak out.  Putting on love makes them all work the way they are supposed to work.

We can go to a lot of places to see what love is. But lets go here,

I Corinthians 13:4-8a
4Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant 5or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; 6it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. 7 Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. 8Love never ends …

Love is a big jacket to put on above everything else. It’s not just a warm fuzzy feeling jacket of love. It is hard work in the mucky, messy, day to day life to put on love. When I’m impatient, unkind, envious, boastful, arrogant, rude, insisting, prideful, irritable, or resentful to name a few – I am not wearing love. How often do I shrug off that jacket and not even realize it? How often do I shrug off that jacket and know full well I’m taking it off, laying it on the floor? How often to I see it on the floor and not want to pick it back up thinking it is too heavy to put back on?

Honestly, more than I realize or would like to admit.

But once I have my outfit on look what happens. The Peace of Christ will rule in my heart. I will be thankful. I will let the word of God dwell in me; dwell, it will settle in and make a home. And with that peace ruling in my heart I will want to sing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs that overflow out of a thankful heart.

I’m rethinking my outfit today. Not the red t-shirt, black vest, green cargo pants, purple socks and orange shoes. I’m fine with that outfit.

I’m rethinking what I’m really wearing.

Be The Tree

May 26, 2011 in Reflections with 0 Comments

I am a sucker for trees. And today the thought hit me; maybe I crave them, because I want to be one.

There is a road I used to drive from my house in Oregon City to my sisters house in Silverton. A two lane twisty, hilly, scenic country road. Around one bend; a church. Around the next bend; a string of country bars and a gas station. Then it’s just fields and the occasional farm house. I remember rounding a corner and seeing an old oak tree in the middle of a field. Its branches forming a perfectly cupped circle. The leaves, a radiant healthy green; the trunk solid yet weathered. I spun full round to watch it until up a hill and around another bend it was out of sight.

Coming home that evening I was giddy, anticipating seeing it again. Which seemed silly to me even then; it’s only a tree I thought. The sun was no longer high above. Now it was sagging so close to the ground. Making everything, even the dirt, look polished and new. When I saw The Tree the sun was shinning up through its branches. A million glittering burst of sun. A million tiny shadowed leaves dancing. Sublime perfection.

It became my tree.

Something about its loneliness in the middle of the field. Its strength and beauty kept drawing me back down that little country road, just to get a glimpse of it.

There is something about a lone tree that calls to me. Speaks to me of beauty, of creation, of The Creator.

A giant sturdy tree.
A small sapling just starting to bud.

And more often than not I reach into my bag, pull out my camera, and take that tree home with me.  Print the photo of the tree and put it on my wall.

A reminder of what I want to be.

Psalm 1

Blessed is the man
who walks not in the counsel of the wicked,
nor stands in the way of sinners,
nor sits in the seat of scoffers;
but his delight is in the law of the LORD,
and on his law he meditates day and night.
He is like a tree
planted by streams of water
that yields its fruit in its season,
and its leaf does not wither.
In all that he does, he prospers.
The wicked are not so,
but are like chaff that the wind drives away.
Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgment,
nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous;
for the LORD knows the way of the righteous,
but the way of the wicked will perish.
{emphasis mine}

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

{These are some of my trees.  I took their picture and collected them.  This collection is from Oregon, Washington and Kenya}

The I’ves of May

May 24, 2011 in Reflections with 0 Comments

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I like to stop and take stock. It happens often. But there are two times of year where it almost seems mandatory.

New Years and Birthdays.

I’ve lived in 5 states.
I’ve been to the Bahamas, Canada, Mexico, Iceland, New Zealand, England, Spain, Greece, France, Germany, Italy, Belgium, Hungry, Madagascar, Kenya, and Rwanda to name a few.
I’ve slept on the ground with only a blanket of stars over my head.
I’ve killed ugly spiders.
I’ve sipped tea with friends.
I’ve gotten blisters so bad I couldn’t wear my shoes.
I’ve skipped and cartwheeled.
I’ve cheated on a spelling test.
I’ve been afraid of the dark.
I’ve been wrong.
I’ve questioned peoples motives.
I’ve been confused.
I’ve lost my way.
I’ve swam in 3 oceans and one sea.
I’ve laughed and laughed and laughed.
I’ve been found.
I’ve learned.
I’ve made things grow.
I’ve watched in wonder.
I’ve listend.
I’ve dreamed.
I’ve danced.
I’ve counted my blessings and been amazed.
I’ve filled more photo albums than you’d think possible.
I’ve written until my pen has died.
I’ve stood at the cliffs edge and watched Victoria Falls spill over.
I’ve cried and cried and cried.
I’ve eaten things I didn’t know what they were.
I’ve married my best friend.
I’ve taught people how to swim.
I’ve cleaned a lot of toilets.
I’ve given birth.
I’ve felt my heart explode with love.

All of these are part and parcel of me. And as amazing as they are, as much as I love some of those facts. The don’t matter much at all unless I also include …

I am a sinner.
I disserve death.
I’ve been saved by the shed blood of Jesus on the cross.
I’ve been forgiven.
I’ve been redeemed.
I’ve been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.
Galatians 2:20

{photo credit: Jonda Spurbeck}

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