come to me, He said
cry to me, He said
and I did.
He definitely saw the sin. I know He did. but He did not reproach me. He did not scorn or cross His arms. No. He looked with tenderness and said, "I love you, dear one." which made me cry more. this love. I don't get it. but oh, how much it means to me. thankful, this heart. our own standards--so high. His love is greater yet.
in Him I rest with peace.
H
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
Monday, August 19, 2013
8.19
Bidding adieu to a somewhat sticky afternoon, I stood by the window. A welcoming breeze swept through, and I paused. For a moment. Just a short moment. And I looked at the sky, that beautiful, cerulean-kissed peaceful, and I thought. For just a short moment. And a little twinkle, so proud to be the first one out tonight, he winked at me. And I winked back with a smile of contentment.
There are times my heart feels as though it will never stop growing. That it fights to make room for the loving and tender that so quickly capture its attention. Again, this late August, I welcome in nineteen more spots for loving and tender, and I beg for wisdom. For faithfulness. For words of Truth.
I am full. Thankful, joyful, peaceful. And I rest now in the arms of One who loves me so very much.
H
Thursday, May 9, 2013
open palms.
I wish I could chase the sunset.
It runs, quickly, like early summer peaches enveloped in their hot baking house, and arriving out again as a pie or cobbler. Funny how the sun sinks, and yet it still emits such brilliance to the surrounding wisps of cloud. Strangely enough, too, I hear birds. Chirping. Singing their evening lullabies, just as they do to wake me at dawn. There is order. Routine. The comfort of knowing what to expect.
And yet, not.
For each time the ice cream sun melts away, a new and different one takes its place. Each melody hummed by the sparrows and swallows is not the same as it once was.
And I remember--as I am so prone to forgetting--that although I cannot decree nor determine the color of tomorrow's sunset, some things will always stay faithful. For this I am thankful.
H
It runs, quickly, like early summer peaches enveloped in their hot baking house, and arriving out again as a pie or cobbler. Funny how the sun sinks, and yet it still emits such brilliance to the surrounding wisps of cloud. Strangely enough, too, I hear birds. Chirping. Singing their evening lullabies, just as they do to wake me at dawn. There is order. Routine. The comfort of knowing what to expect.
And yet, not.
For each time the ice cream sun melts away, a new and different one takes its place. Each melody hummed by the sparrows and swallows is not the same as it once was.
And I remember--as I am so prone to forgetting--that although I cannot decree nor determine the color of tomorrow's sunset, some things will always stay faithful. For this I am thankful.
H
Thursday, April 18, 2013
my life is not my own
scene 1: it was obvious she was flustered, though she tried to hide it. the almost inaudible sigh, the concentrated breathing, trying to sound steady, the coolness and calmness with which she moved about the room. but mostly it was the wetness of her eyes, like a spring rain threatening to spill from a cloud, doing it all it could to hold it in. who knows what had already transpired that morning, but she was late, and it seems as though the coffee always spills and the copier breaks on the day when you are late.
scene 2: help me, the hazel eyes begged. she looked up with uncertainty, with hurt. won't you please help me?
scene 3: as it comforts, so also it convicts. and to know the comfort, you must first know the conviction. where the next twenty-five minutes would take them, she could not imagine, but throw the lesson planner out the window, for this--which was not written in the job description--was what was most important. it was just the two of them and a worn, chalked up Bible. the young mind raced in curiosity and fear, while the other pleaded silently for a "fitting word, like apples of gold in frames of silver."
a word. a glance. a sigh. a smile.
these are the things which often act as catalysts for the choices i make during the days. is this right? i wonder at times. i dont think i've quite decided the answer to that question, but it does make me contemplate the outcome of these decisions and question the initial motivations.
this day is finally coming to a close, and what a day it has been. how thankful i am for the little opportunities in life, and more especially for the times when my eyes are opened to the truth...and the way the Lord gives us the right words at the right time.
scene 1 closed with a potted orange star and twenty little names on a card, delivered at the right time to return a smile to her lovely face. scene 2 was given hope, and the reminder that there is One who will never leave. and scene 3, though it brought tears to both, was a sweet embrace of the gospel, and of His great love, despite our failings.
may I ever be faithful to stop...
...and to listen to the things you have to teach me
...to encourage, to comfort, to exhort, and to show forgiveness
if they saw nothing else today, let them each have seen You.
H
scene 2: help me, the hazel eyes begged. she looked up with uncertainty, with hurt. won't you please help me?
scene 3: as it comforts, so also it convicts. and to know the comfort, you must first know the conviction. where the next twenty-five minutes would take them, she could not imagine, but throw the lesson planner out the window, for this--which was not written in the job description--was what was most important. it was just the two of them and a worn, chalked up Bible. the young mind raced in curiosity and fear, while the other pleaded silently for a "fitting word, like apples of gold in frames of silver."
a word. a glance. a sigh. a smile.
these are the things which often act as catalysts for the choices i make during the days. is this right? i wonder at times. i dont think i've quite decided the answer to that question, but it does make me contemplate the outcome of these decisions and question the initial motivations.
this day is finally coming to a close, and what a day it has been. how thankful i am for the little opportunities in life, and more especially for the times when my eyes are opened to the truth...and the way the Lord gives us the right words at the right time.
scene 1 closed with a potted orange star and twenty little names on a card, delivered at the right time to return a smile to her lovely face. scene 2 was given hope, and the reminder that there is One who will never leave. and scene 3, though it brought tears to both, was a sweet embrace of the gospel, and of His great love, despite our failings.
may I ever be faithful to stop...
...and to listen to the things you have to teach me
...to encourage, to comfort, to exhort, and to show forgiveness
if they saw nothing else today, let them each have seen You.
H
Friday, April 5, 2013
get up, soldier
the rat-a-tat-tats
they come
far off cries echo through the night
and the only lights left
come from twinkling stars
high above their heads
another gunshot rings out
the stench of the enemy advances
and three choices hang in the bitter, black air:
the first is to run
to retreat
to cower in the overwhelming fear that threatens to swallow
their souls
the second, to charge
full-speed ahead toward the battlefield
with reckless abandonment for orders
to believe in one's own strength
and might
and power
so often have i been that soldier.
how the tears have fallen
as i thrash and slash my way through the mines and the mud
only to realize that i'm falling
that my best efforts come from weak and unsteady hands
only to realize that i, in fact, haven't even strapped on my armor tightly
if at all
that the Commander was right all along
he staggers and collapses
his opponent takes aim
more is injured than his pride
what use, he groans
this is not the tell-all
and he will obey the next time
but
for now he cannot see
[nor does he want to]
am i giving up? he wonders
while the enemy continues to pry open wounds, to inflict the poison deeper
he turns
writhing in pain
and searches desperately for that familiar face behind him
their eyes meet
one set filled with regret and shame
the other with loving rebuke and strength
he knows what's coming
or, at least, he thinks he does
and as the Commander shields the blows and carries him to safety
as his suffering comes to a temporary halt
he prepares his mind for what is next.
but before any words are spoken,
the soldier looks at his team
they tell him stories of His bravery, His faithful leadership, His care
and the soldier turns again to those eyes
"Get up, soldier."
that was all.
no harshness
no sigh
only gentleness
and a call to obey--
to love to obey
"There is one more way. And I will show you."
H
they come
far off cries echo through the night
and the only lights left
come from twinkling stars
high above their heads
another gunshot rings out
the stench of the enemy advances
and three choices hang in the bitter, black air:
the first is to run
to retreat
to cower in the overwhelming fear that threatens to swallow
their souls
the second, to charge
full-speed ahead toward the battlefield
with reckless abandonment for orders
to believe in one's own strength
and might
and power
so often have i been that soldier.
how the tears have fallen
as i thrash and slash my way through the mines and the mud
only to realize that i'm falling
that my best efforts come from weak and unsteady hands
only to realize that i, in fact, haven't even strapped on my armor tightly
if at all
that the Commander was right all along
he staggers and collapses
his opponent takes aim
more is injured than his pride
what use, he groans
this is not the tell-all
and he will obey the next time
but
for now he cannot see
[nor does he want to]
am i giving up? he wonders
while the enemy continues to pry open wounds, to inflict the poison deeper
he turns
writhing in pain
and searches desperately for that familiar face behind him
their eyes meet
one set filled with regret and shame
the other with loving rebuke and strength
he knows what's coming
or, at least, he thinks he does
and as the Commander shields the blows and carries him to safety
as his suffering comes to a temporary halt
he prepares his mind for what is next.
but before any words are spoken,
the soldier looks at his team
they tell him stories of His bravery, His faithful leadership, His care
and the soldier turns again to those eyes
"Get up, soldier."
that was all.
no harshness
no sigh
only gentleness
and a call to obey--
to love to obey
"There is one more way. And I will show you."
H
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
a little tired out
what does a teacher do, someone once asked me.
well....not much, i suppose. i "teach" children. just tell 'em what to do, and they should readily, cheerfully, and immediately comply. that can't be too hard now, can it?
a teacher fixes sore throats and headaches.
she tells children to give their best for the Lord, not for a grade book or her own happiness.
she reads directions multiple times.
she saves glue bottles at the last minute before their insides are squeezed out onto a project.
she ties shoes.
she reminds students to write their names at the top of their papers.
she encourages literature reading during reading time, but usually not during math time.
she finds homes for lost pencils.
she gives lots and lots of hugs and high-fives.
she cries for her students' hearts.
she wipes out sticky, smelly, nasty, dirty desks.
she uses red pens to help students see their mistakes.
she talks in chinese, french, indian, british, and scottish accents.
she writes her spelling words on the board.
she divides 4-digit dividends in her head within 10 seconds.
she staples projects to the walls (and ceiling).
she eats lunch...sometimes.
she prays.
she hides notes in students' desks.
she drinks lots of coffee.
she laughs at homophone drawings created by her students.
she crosses her eyes at someone every so often.
she exhorts boys to practice being young men.
she advises girls to love each other and be friends.
she referees basketball and warball games during recess...at the same time.
she stays in during lunch to help someone make up an assignment.
she emails parents, administrators, office staff, and other teachers.
she snacks on peanut M&Ms.
she wipes down doorhandles, windows, desks, and chairs.
she carries four conversations at once.
oh yeah, and she teaches.
sometimes i think the "teaching" part is based more on the list above, rather than opening a textbook. don't get me wrong--i love my job. today was a day, though, that reminded me how much my Teacher does for me. and He never gets tired out.
thanks for your love & strength today, Father.
H
well....not much, i suppose. i "teach" children. just tell 'em what to do, and they should readily, cheerfully, and immediately comply. that can't be too hard now, can it?
a teacher fixes sore throats and headaches.
she tells children to give their best for the Lord, not for a grade book or her own happiness.
she reads directions multiple times.
she saves glue bottles at the last minute before their insides are squeezed out onto a project.
she ties shoes.
she reminds students to write their names at the top of their papers.
she encourages literature reading during reading time, but usually not during math time.
she finds homes for lost pencils.
she gives lots and lots of hugs and high-fives.
she cries for her students' hearts.
she wipes out sticky, smelly, nasty, dirty desks.
she uses red pens to help students see their mistakes.
she talks in chinese, french, indian, british, and scottish accents.
she writes her spelling words on the board.
she divides 4-digit dividends in her head within 10 seconds.
she staples projects to the walls (and ceiling).
she eats lunch...sometimes.
she prays.
she hides notes in students' desks.
she drinks lots of coffee.
she laughs at homophone drawings created by her students.
she crosses her eyes at someone every so often.
she exhorts boys to practice being young men.
she advises girls to love each other and be friends.
she referees basketball and warball games during recess...at the same time.
she stays in during lunch to help someone make up an assignment.
she emails parents, administrators, office staff, and other teachers.
she snacks on peanut M&Ms.
she wipes down doorhandles, windows, desks, and chairs.
she carries four conversations at once.
oh yeah, and she teaches.
sometimes i think the "teaching" part is based more on the list above, rather than opening a textbook. don't get me wrong--i love my job. today was a day, though, that reminded me how much my Teacher does for me. and He never gets tired out.
thanks for your love & strength today, Father.
H
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