Thankfulness on Thursdays

I thought I'd make a new pattern for the "nest" here and instead of  starting on Mondays (who does that?), I thought I'd get the ball rolling with "Thankful on Thursdays."  Join me?

- for the breeze blowing all these lovely deaths of leaves into an amazing carpet of glory

- for J's comment to his friend as I helped in library class this morning, "Dude, you should smell my mom, she smells so good!"  *blush*

- for the way kids get excited about new books to read

- for a neighbor/friend/prayer-partner who drops by and isn't offended by my germs or the fact that I can't really hug her today

- for a good employer who treats me well and is understanding of working moms (Tuesday was Boss's Day)

- for pumpkin pie from my "sister-from-another-mister" - my breakfast this week of rushing mornings

- for pretty red and white flowers, cut out and ready to decorate China-bound candy boxes in C's suitcases, less than a week until Grace

- for encouraging texts to and from girlfriends, and the privilege of loving others

- for a husband who prays with me

- for the smile on K's face on Tuesday when she was well enough to go back to school

- for laughs and giggles with both of my kids about baby pictures on the computer, and the hope that someday I'll make books out of them

- for mercy in the secret places, and hope to overcome all of this


I've been on this Thankful Journey for over a year now, when A gave me a copy of One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp.  A journey that has been life-changing and eye-opening, and even those words are not enough to describe it.  Every day I count my gifts of grace, and as Ann says, "all is grace."  Even the hard things, even the painful.  Thanking the Creator for it all, counting the endless blessings He pours into my open hands and giving Him back glory in the recording of them.  The acknowledgement of them.  The Love of them.  I've chosen Thursdays to share a few with you, my friends, and I hope you'll share a few with me too. Because this truly honors the Giver.  

"One of them, when he realized that he was healed, turned around and came back, shouting his gratitude, glorifying God. He kneeled at Jesus’ feet, so grateful. He couldn't thank him enough..." - Luke 17:16 (Msg)

I want to be that one.

Join me?  ... post a few of your count-ings here by clicking on the comments button.  

Today, God, just as I did yesterday - I want to thank You.

Though He can do anything, there are somethings He won't ...

Confusion is particularly painful. For me, anyway.  I want to figure it all out, know who and why and when and how these things like murder and rape and abuse and addiction can be resolved.  I want to take the thing in my hand and untie the knots of disorientation until there lies the straight, unbinding yarn of sense.  My sense.  My order.  My control.  So when will I learn that some knots are not meant to be untied, and even if they are, it is rarely meant to be done by me?  

How about today ... today seems like as good a day as any.

Do I believe in a God who can?  Of course I do.  And yet - this last week brought news of the worst.  A friend's friend murdered while she spoke to him on the phone; another precious girl-mother trapped in the lie of exotic dancing as her only means of earning enough; a prisoner who will not see her father again before he's taken by terminal cancer; addiction robbing lives and futures from sons and mothers alike; the wife of a friend's neighbor - stolen away too early by disease.  How can anything but confusion invade these neurons when this is my world, and That is my God?  The God who can, but does not untie this knot of disaster all around ...

So, what conclusions can I draw on this exasperatingly white slate?  Though I'm not yet sure, I doubt drawing conclusions can be worse than jumping to them, so I'll want to take my time.  Wait.  On Him.  To answer.  When He sees I'm ready.

Because premature answers poured into the shallow dish of inexperience would only be spilled anyway.

After C.S. Lewis lost his wife and the love of his life to cancer, his pain was so deep and confusing that sometimes all he could do was journal.  The writer wrote.  Not of Lions or Witches or Wardrobes, but in his journal of pain, which was later published in a book called A Grief Observed.  Down in the dark pit of loss and confusion, Lewis - a great believer and often-quoted man of faith - penned these honest words:

"Not that I am (I think) in much danger of ceasing to believe in God.  The real danger is of coming to believe such dreadful things about Him.  The conclusion I dread is not 'So there's no God after all,' but 'So this is what God's really like.  Deceive yourself no longer.' "

Nearly 34 years on this fallen earth has caused me enough experience to ponder similar thoughts of painful confusion.  I want God to be fluffy and happy and warm.  But my God is not a kitten.  Fortunately.

No, He's neither safe nor predictable.  But He is good, and He alone defines good.   Even when my conclusions would draw otherwise, His hand covers mine and we illustrate onto the white together - a handsome portrait of His character that takes into account even the worst, which He allows in order to display the best in beautiful contrast.  For without the dark, the light would not be gorgeous, and without freedom to disobey Him, we'd never know the bliss of being His slaves.

Grief brought Lewis closer to knowing God, just as it had caused him to question Him.
"And so, perhaps, with God.  I have gradually been coming to feel that the door is no longer shut and bolted.  Was it my own frantic need that slammed it in my face?  The time when there is nothing at all in your soul except a cry for help may be just the time when God can't give it: you are like the drowning man who can't be helped because he clutches and grabs.  Perhaps your own reiterated cries deafen you to the voice you hoped to hear ... After all, you must have a capacity to receive, or even omnipotence can't give.  Perhaps your own passion temporarily destroys the capacity."

Oh God, I beg You - give me the strength not to clench fists, but to open my hands for Your capacity.

A friend stopped by today and we ponder what's to be done for this mutual sister facing her post-trauma.  A card? A visit?  It all seems but trifles.  She stares off into the orange and red flames of leaves burning up my neighborhood in autumn glory, and I'm at a loss too.  Her next words cut through, but she can't know why. "My husband said it all points back to the consequences of not having fathers."

And without meaning to, it's all about me again, and I'm sorry, but my pain counts also.  Too many times I lied to myself and told my bleeding heart it didn't count, and too many times those bottled tears exploded like gasoline.  How has not having my father affected me?  Who would I be if he were here?  What good is being held from me in not having knowledge of where or how he is?  It's a familiar spiral and I'm slipping on it again, though I know the signs and I also know how to step back from it.

The same way I step back from all of Satan's traps - with Truth.

"You hear, O LORD, the desire of the afflicted; You encourage them, and You listen to their cry, defending the fatherless and the oppressed, in order that man, who is of the earth, may terrify no more." - Psalm 10:17-18

Though some of us are fatherless, we have a Defender.  Not a kitten, but a formidable King.  Who alone knows this moment from eternity, and alone holds the wisdom of what it will take to get us from here to there.  Like a Good Surgeon who cuts only enough of the infection and doesn't stop until it's finished; like a Good Dentist who drills away the decay whether we scream or pass out.  He holds my hand when my dad won't or can't, and no begging on my part will cause this Good God to pull back His plan now.

He won't forsake me.  Won't force me to love Him, frightening Lion of Judah  though He is.  Won't snatch control out of my feeble hands, but waits for me to surrender it (even daily).  Won't withhold grief or sorrow for the sake of my whining.  He won't ever change His character that is ever faithful, loving, and true.  And this, my Prince, won't ever leave me stranded without hope.

Yes, He can do anything.  But I am so very thankful that there are some things He won't ever do.

without it, I would not have known

Without darkness, I would not have known light,
Without shame, His Grace would not have seemed so bright.

If not for seeing lack, mere cents left alone,
How ever could joy in abundance be known?

Sickness churning deep and scrapes dripping red,
If not for these, no compassion for how You bled.

Hungry in fasting, yearning and desperate.
Not to feel empty, food lacks delight of it.

Were I never the distressed, no despair -
My eyes unable to drink The Rescuer there.

No black night ... no orange dawn
No decaying trunks ... no new green moss
No sharp pain ... no thankful healing
No fear of battle ... no sweet triumph

If I had not opened my hands to what You gave...
I cannot bear the thought of these paths unpaved.


"What I tell you now in the darkness, shout abroad when daybreak comes. What I whisper in your ear, shout from the housetops for all to hear!"  -Matthew 10:27 (NLT)

Oh, God - I beg of You to bring glory to Yourself through my broken, dirty, fallen vessel.  Only a God so wonderful as You could do that.

sometimes you just have to call out for help ...

When I was a freshman in college I got lost alone in the woods in the middle of the night.  I don't remember being more afraid at any other time in my whole life.

About twelve of us were on a backpacking trip as part of the "freshman experience" into the mountains of Colorado, hiking one of the 14-ers, as we natives fondly refer to some of the Collegiate Peaks of the Rockies that rise over 14,000 feet above sea level.   I believe it was the night before we were to breach the foot of Mount Yale when I woke up from a dead sleep needing to empty my bladder.  Using all of the safety precautions I learned from my upperclassmen leaders, I carefully donned my coat and boots, remembering my flashlight and forgetting my fears.  The flashlight beamed out onto the path in front of me and swept illuminating circles to my flanks as I searched for the perfect private place where none of my fellows would hear my stream or see my moon. I tried to remember some landmarks along the way so that I could get myself back to my tent.  Really, I tried.

But after emerging from behind my hundred-ton boulder and walking back in the direction I remembered trudging from for approximately the same amount of time I had previously traveled, my tent was nowhere my flashlight could see.  So there I was, in the middle of freezing darkness, afraid of being lost, but even more frightened of embarrassment.  You see, pride is bigger than boulders when you're an 18-year-old Colorado Native among other liberal-arts students who are like you, without parents or authority for the first time in your whole life.  I was most likely only a few degrees off my path, and not too far from the camp, close enough for them to hear me if I called out, but the martyr in me often screams louder than logic in the recesses of my reasoning.  I didn't call for help because I didn't want to be a bother to someone who was needing sleep more than needing to show me the way.

And so I doubled back and kept walking.   I continued on, trying to find the camp in the middle of my loud silence where my heart was pounding and my fingers were crying.  The rocks all looked the same, and I lost all sense of time in my searching.  My compass was tucked safely under my pillow back in my tent, as if I could have even used it in the dark.  At one point I sat down on a hillside and resolved to wait there until morning light and find my way back.  I tried to sleep on the frosty, dry grass.  Visions of mountain lions kept my eyes from closing, so I got up and walked some more.

Suddenly, I stopped short so as not to fall into the abyss in front of my light that was a cliff dropping into a canyon below.  Funny, I don't remember anything like that near our camp last night.  I pictured everything that could go wrong and my fears of the elements began to scream louder than my pride.  Without a shred of awareness of the time or location of my being, thoughts of my mother crying over my frozen, starved body finally found after days of searching helped me to find the vocal cords to yell, "Help!"

At first it was surprisingly faint.  Was that loud enough to wake them?  Am I too far away now for them to hear me?  And I shouted again.  "Help me, please!"  After a few more shouts I heard another voice, far off and to my left.  She was so far away, I could hardly believe it.  "I hear you.  We're coming."

My pounding heart stopped as I exhaled the breath I'd been holding since leaving my boulder.  My pride faded like last year's report card and I realized my folly as clear as writing on the wall.  True, I had woken them and they would have to sacrifice a few minutes of rest to find me and guide me back by the sound of their voices, but - and there it loomed on the wall - that's what they were there for.  To help me if I got into trouble.

And isn't that what we're all here for?  To help each other?  I can't tell you how many people I meet who admit openly, "It's so hard for me to ask for help, even when I know I need it."

Why?  I don't know their reasons - maybe they're different from my reasons that night.  All I know is I was trying to sacrifice my needs because I had made the choice for the rest of my group that their comfort was more important than my need.  In those hours of not calling out, I put self-sufficient pride before the freedom of community, and stole purpose from my leaders as I ran with only the riches of fear in my little getaway.  Was it worth it?  Sure, just like years in prison are worth it for a bank-robber.  The value is in the lesson learned.

A few months before this trip I had surrendered my heart to Christ and made a commitment to Him.  This was the first time the commitment had nothing to do with my parents or my friends.  It was when I told Him, "I want You - whoever You really are, and I want to love You with my life the way You loved me with Yours."  To come to that decision I had to get to the point of realizing that my life was doomed if I was to be the one in control of it.

For a capable native of the mountains of success, that is a big deal.  It's pride, sacrificed and bloody on the altar of self.  It's surrender and open-handed living in the wake of a lifetime of taking matters into my own hands.  For me it continues to be one of the most difficult daily lessons He must teach me over and over.  Like the past decade of teaching my children to put away their belongings, it continues to be a source of God's instruction to my stubborn heart.

You need help.  I never made you to do this by yourself.

"Instead, in order that none of you be deceived by sin and become stubborn, you must help one another every day, as long as the word “Today” in the scripture applies to us." - Hebrews 3:13 (GNT)

And I've gotten slightly better at calling out for help since that cold night in the mountains.  Whenever I feel myself putting up protective walls of self-sacrifice and martyr-like pride, I recall how gracious my leaders were when our voices and flashlights had led us back to one another.  They asked if I was alright and I said, "Just a little cold.  Sorry to wake you up."  She shined her flashlight right into my face and I shined mine right back at hers.  The look in her eyes was nothing short of compassionate relief.  "Not at all - we're glad you did."

Yes, glad.  Happy to help.  Ready to do what they came out to do - keep the individuals within the strength of the flock.  Seek and save the lost.  Assist those who have lost the path and who shake alone in fright and shame.  Bring them back to the health of doing life together.  Extend shocking concern where they might have expected perturbed huffing.

Help.  It's what God does for His kids:

"For I hold you by your right hand—
    I, the Lord your God.
And I say to you,
    ‘Don’t be afraid. I am here to help you.' " -Isaiah 41:13 (NLT)

Also, it's what His kids do for one another.  And please don't forget - we're glad to.

When have you had to call out for help?

What stops you, even when you know you need it?

What can you do to reach out, even when it's hard?

I'd love to hear the stories of your learning too...

care-full choices

Here's a recommendation, if you care to receive it: set yourself some personal goals every week.

This is my goals journal - it's a combination of two ideas I got recently - one from a good friend, and another from a blog I found.  Here are some easy steps: [By the way, this isn't usually the style of my blog, but I'm branching out to a how-to session today. *smile*]

1. Purchase a cheap journal - dollar store is a great source.

2. Get out a calendar and write the date of the beginning of each week (I go with Sundays, but occasionally I don't get to it until Monday or even Tuesday) at the top of every successive page, for as many weeks will fit in your journal.  Be sure to skip the first page - see below...

3. On the very first page of of the journal, write the categories of your goals, and number them.  These should include some of your identity.  I chose 7 categories of who I am and who I want to become (that overlap is another discussion): as a respectful bride, as a teaching-as-we-go mother, as a gentle shepherdess, as a gospel-proclaiming writer, as a delicately-shining daughter [of the King], as a kind and encouraging friend, as a Christ-sharing professional. Your categories will be unique to you and they will vary in number.  Think of your roles and your priorities as you pray and ask God what He wants to do in you.

4. Once a week, add some creativity as you pray over what God wants to do in you for each goal.  This can be pretty paper, stamps, doodling, colored pencils, ribbon, etc.  I find that as I do this to slow me down, I'm able to be quiet enough and hear what He wants me to work on for the week.  Some of you are more "crafty" than others, and some of you have extravagant gifts in this area, but we can all be creative when we try.  It's good therapy, trust me.

5.  Write down what you hear in your heart.  This will become a lovely melding of what God wants and what you want.  It's such an encouraging thing to see your desires and His coming together in practical goals you can aim for each week. For example, my #2 entry this week is "organize their time, teach and show them how - so they don't feel tossed around in the waves of busy life."

6.  Come back to this journal throughout the week to remind you what you're aiming for and to evaluate whether or not you've reached them.  If you haven't, don't be too hard on yourself - just try again after you re-evaluate.  It's not an exact science, and it's the farthest thing from rules and religion as you can get.  Think of reaching for what God wants with intention and direction, and imagine Him giving you the strength to accomplish your Christ-gifted purpose as He holds your hand, for this is truly what He's doing.

7.  Keep going.  If you skip a week or a few, don't stop - just journal what you can remember from those weeks, be it busy or difficult or whatever, and start from where you ARE.  For those of you who can be hard on yourselves - live in GRACE.

Hopefully this will be a practical and helpful tool for you.  God has given us each day as a gift and He desires that we not squander it.  I truly believe He has purpose for us all and He wants us to sculpt our free will into choices that glorify Him with who we are and what we're becoming.  Identity is an important word to me, because who I am should reflect who He is.  It's what I want so much.  And I want it for you too.  Because when we live deliberately out of who He made us to be - we will be His praise in the earth.  But it won't happen without care-full choices every day.

"The Lord directs the steps of the godly.
    He delights in every detail of their lives."
                            -Psalm 37:23 (NLT)

Dear Jesus, please help Your people to seek Your plans and goals and purposes for our lives.  May we reach for Your ways, Your direction every day.  I pray that if this simple idea will bless another sister, You will encourage her and speak to her in gentle whispers about what You want to give and do as our Gentle, Loving Father.  Have Your way, God.  Not mine.

when you're tired, and maybe even exhausted

Fatigue plagues us and we wonder why. What more can we fit into the day?  What new bits of information can we squeeze into our heads?  How many activities can our children experience?  How many more dollars could we earn today and how many different ways can we think of to spend them?  What pretty thing can we buy to brighten our home or our wrist for a little happiness?  What game can we download and compete in for a little fun or what table can we place our bet on for the thrill of it all?

Is it me or is anyone else running a race that is neither trained for nor entered willfully?

I have a few tech-savvy, apple-owning (i-what-not) friends who share a joke with me - To screen or Not to screen, This is the question. And as you read this, you know I do.  I know you do too.  And at what cost?

My kids want to participate in activities like all their friends, but they don't or can't know what they haven't learned the hard way - too many "good things" can add up to being a "bad thing."

Though I don't earn luxury in my part-time job at the school, I make more in just one hour than an African Pastor will in a month.  And oh how fast I can spend those wages on silly things like paper and books and ice cream.

... Sometimes I want to just live. 

But I'm too exhausted to do that.

Too tired to see, to fatigued to touch, too drained to really listen, too exhausted to talk, too sleepy to truly do anything that really matters. And what is living if not those things?  I don't know me and I lose sight of God, and breathing has become the inhalation of my news feed and the exhalation of my current status.

"Back in the day, students may have meandered through the Fine Arts section of the library to pick up a book. They may have even sat and spent some quality time alone without any distractions. There was a time when spending time reflecting and getting to know yourself did not involve vibrating interruptions every two seconds." - Gabby Tilevetz (college blogger) 

I once read that with higher machinery and technology, we've filled the time saved with expectations of just more busy-work rather than really enjoying our lives and the time we saved.  Take washing machines.  Now we have the expectation of owning hundreds of outfits and that they will all be meticulously spotless, whereas before this lovely contraption (for which I am extremely thankful), we had a few garments that we washed weekly in the basin and cared for the best we could, wearing an apron to cook in and graciously understanding if there was a bit of dust on our neighbor's cuff.  Was it worth the convenience, if we've merely hijacked our time with piles of laundry and excessive spending on clothing?  I'm not sure I can say yes.

Though I don't know how many beats this heart will perform in the course of my life, I know the One who counts them.  And I am so hungry to make the beats matter.  I want to really live this life and not waste it.  

"Make the most of every opportunity in these evil days." - Ephesians 5:16 (NLT)

I'm not calling names - judgement of evil still belongs firmly in His hand and not in mine.  But why are the days evil?  Could it be perhaps because we've forgotten to stop and see the holy in each one?

This is why I carry around books of pretty paper and ribbon full of my counting . . . because each day is the gift of opportunity.  To do what?  To worship in thankfulness. To "know He is God" (Psalm 46:10). 

Because I'm a writer and when I write down the gifts, I begin to look for what the gift is now. And if I'm ready to write it, ready to thank Him for it, I'm really living it for all it's worth.  Like these:

- her soft curly hair in my face - my friend and the twin sister I always wanted, right here in my arms as we pray for one another

- hoodies

- another astounding sunset painted bright red and orange, peering through all those leaves, and my awe at how He can do that differently every day

- the way my son still hugs me in the hallway when we pass, and the way he still calls me "Mama."  There's no way I'm rushing him out of either.

- my husband's embrace, and the way his arms can make every awful thing disappear, if only for a moment - it's still relief

- a missionary, ready to be sent, "if only to love one of them" to India and tears to remind me that God loves each of us that much

- the light teal-blue color He painted my daughter's eyes, and the way they take in everything before she speaks

"Why do we want to spend eternity with God, but we don't want to spend time with Him?"  -Mark Batterson

(ouch)

I'm tired again today, and yes, even exhausted.  It's early on the Sabbath (which means to catch your breath) and I'm already counting down the hours until my nap.  I'll make myself be still right now, though.  Choose to stop and see. Decide to be still and know who He is.  Sing my guts out in worship, because He deserves it, and I will become more undignified than this if I need to.  Consume the Bread and savor the taste of it on the tongue of my heart.  Rejoice in Him, because of who He is and all He's done.

The Giver of all good things.  The Father of lights.  My Provider and the One who gives each moment to be lived and not squandered.

if only you knew ...

Sometimes masking is coping, and some methods of coping are better than others. 

The beauty of masking is that you can usually do and say all the "right" things, even if you aren't feeling them.

The pain of masking is that your real feelings end up strangling you.

Sometimes when people give me accolades, my first inner reaction sounds a little like this: "... if only you knew ... you might not say that."

I've learned that quote to be a sneaky lie of the enemy, though.  A lie meant to keep me in hiding.  Because truth be told, there is such a thing as unconditional love - and even though people who possess it are few and far between, I do have some friends who have proven the test of my honesty and have lived to love me another day.

And more than that - I have known the depth of a different kind of love.  The love of A Heavenly Father.

"So the Word became human and made his home among us. He was full of unfailing love and faithfulness. And we have seen his glory, the glory of the Father’s one and only Son." -John 1:14

And when Jesus revealed the love of the Father, every being at once knew his own identity - I'm not Him, but loved by Him.  It is when we accept this with open hands that we are made ready to become that which He made us to be from the beginning.

"The acceptance of self does not mean to be resigned to the status quo.  On the contrary, the more fully we accept ourselves, the more successfully we begin to grow.  Love is a far better stimulus than threat or pressure. ... When we accept ourselves for what we are, we decrease our hunger for power or the acceptance of others because our self-intimacy reinforces our inner sense of security. We are no longer fear criticism because we accept the reality of our human limitations.  ... simply being true to ourselves brings lasting peace." - Brennan Manning (Ragamuffin Gospel)

One of my greatest joys is loving people and being loved in return.  I know this is most genuine with the people who actually know me, and know me well ... right down to the dirt.  The irony is that sometimes once they've seen the dirt, they love me even more.  And the same goes with the way I love them even more after they've divulged some skeletons from the back of their closet as well.  

And isn't that like our Lord?  One of the very most amazing and winsome qualities He retains is His knowing.  He knows me.  Every move.  Every breath.  Every word.  Every thought ... And He still  loves me.  I'm astounded.  I'm in love with Him - for loving me after knowing me that well.  Even for dying a brutal death for me in His knowing.  This song says it all for me.  I can't stop singing it.  All day long. 

"You know what I am going to say
    even before I say it, Lord.
You go before me and follow me.
    You place your hand of blessing on my head.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
    too great for me to understand!
I can never escape from your Spirit!
I can never get away from your presence!" 
                      - Psalm 139:4-7 (NLT)


Lord, I'm so glad You know me, every part.  Sometimes that feels uncomfortable because I'd like to hide the worst from you and show you just the best.  But, as always, Your ways are higher than mine.  And even in Your knowing, Your love for me stays the same adoration for my soul You've always held - from the beginning, and You'll never forsake forever.  Once again, Father I am so amazed.  It's too deep to comprehend, but I'm trying.  Your love is glorious.  Show me Your glory.