Linger

Morning Reflection - A Moment to Linger

2011-12-09T10:37:00.001-06:00

This fire is burning warm and delightful before me this morning, and I invite you to share in its beauty. This is my here and now.

Comforting...

Join me for a moment of quiet? A moment of linger? A moment of gentle approach to the gentlest of fathers... The Father? His desire is our here and now.

The flames leap high and the embers whisper quiet. And in the midst of gazing at the dance of the fire, I lift my head, my hands, and my heart. His voice whispers in the embers of my spirit, sparking a flame for His glory alone.

In the solitude and quiet of my here and now, He speaks ... Hear and Know.

Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, "This is the way; walk in it." Isaiah 30:21 (NIV)

Know therefore that the LORD your God is God; he is the faithful God, keeping his covenant of love to a thousand generations of those who love him and keep His commands. Deuteronomy 7:9 (NIV)

Quietly. Gently. With a tender heart.

2011-11-28T16:02:00.001-06:00

I offer no excuses. None. I haven't been here in a long while, and I apologize. I could offer all the familiar reasons for my absence, but I won't. I simply haven't been here. I'm sorry. Please, will you forgive me?

And now, simply, here I am. Quietly. Gently. With a tender heart. I've asked the Lord whether or not He's granting me permission to pick up my pen once again. I humbly believe He's answered yes. But I also believe He's hovering protectively as I move quietly into the realm of opening my heart again.

Just a stirring, my daughter.

Yes, just a stirring. And while I wait...

I'll linger in days of the Holy Advent. Loving my Lord Jesus. Quietly. Gently. With a tender heart.

Linger... a magnificent portrayal of God's care

2011-04-07T13:40:00.009-05:00

Like so many of my friends, I've been enjoying an eagle's nest livestream video coverage. From the laying of her eggs to the exchange of duty between mother and father eagle during incubation, to the hatching and care of new life, all of it captured on a camera hidden strategic, from the eagles' view. The eagle family's day-to-day events are taking place live via www.ustream.tv/decoraheagles.

And what a magnificent portrayal of God's care for us...

I watch smiling as the mother eagle tenderly tucks her tiny eaglets in. And then, like any other toddling youngsters, they stray from the safety of their mother's feathered shelter. Diligently, patiently, she tucks them in once again. And when the the little ones sleep and all is still, mama eagle never lets down her guard. She scours the landscape and sky above ready to protect her young ones from danger. I watch as she spots something loom too closely above, perceived as a possible threat. She hovers close her head and breast dipped low, but never her eyes. She, guardian of life downy, is fully present. The danger passes.

The chicks hunger. And mama responds. Her nest full of lifeless prey. Fish, squirrels, chipmunks... they are all there. A platter of delicacies to fill the child princes and princesses of this majestic bird. She rises from incubation as tiny beaks squawk impatient. Gingerly she rises and walks powerful talons around her young. She takes a small bite of a fish, works to prepare it for easy digestion. The eaglets stretch and lift beaks high and open, ready to receive nourishment they trust is coming. They bicker over who's beak finds food first. Sometimes one receives more than another. I'm sad for the neglected one. But their mother knows best how to raise her own, and I have no say in the matter. I trust her chicks' care to her.

I do the same for me...

... and mine. Alert and present fully He watches and protects.

He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart. (Psalm 91:4, NIV)

the still commotion of His Creation...

2011-04-06T20:23:00.006-05:00

A headache keeps me home today, yet the day is beautiful and good. The tempo of pain out of sync with breath drives me to quiet. Physical body slowed, mind settled with raw concentration of rest to restore.

I'm outside, and the sun is bright today. I lean back gentle in my wicker chair and capture the warm comfort. Breathing deep and even, I close my eyes and listen. And then a fluttering and a melody. I raise my head careful and slow to find a pair of red birds on the feeder. Yes, a couple. He, vibrant and crowned. She meeker in color. Cardinals. I smile and thank my Father for painting Creation lovely.

The phone rings and I answer. The love of my life on the other end of the line. I melt in love all over when I hear his voice. He asks if I'm feeling okay. I think he hears the headache in my voice. He wishes me better... I tell him about the pair of red birds on the feeder, and how they still feed even as I speak quiet on the phone.

... and then another lilting song. The familiar tug on the sides of my lips and I smile, careful to be tender. A bluebird sings on the fence. I share the view in words with my husband, and he says, "Sounds like Sharen heaven in the back yard today." And I laugh light and say, "Yes, it is, isn't it?" Before we hang up... "I love you." And "I love you too."

A coolish south breeze lifts the fringe from my forehead, soothes the thrum, thrum, thrum of the headache. The cardinals still feeding, the bluebird diving from the fence to the grass and back up again. A commotion calm and delightful.

I lean back into the chair, and a tear squeaks from the outside corner of my eye. Not a tear of pain, but a tear of grate-full-ness. I know the aching pain will pass, but even in the midst, today, I find another smile light. And the warmth and comfort of the Son brings peace. I praise Him in the still commotion of His Creation. And I feel it... He delights in me, His daughter.

The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing. (Zephaniah 3:17, NIV)

linger... even in the clutter

2011-04-05T20:40:00.008-05:00

The Kiwi carpet guys came by today. It was a last minute sort of visit. I let them into my son's house to repair a puppy chewed corner of carpet, and they asked if he needed a carpet cleaning. I told them his carpet was only two months old, so not yet. But a good carpet cleaning piqued my attention. And the idea of another job, piqued theirs.

So, they hopped in their truck and drove right over. I asked them to start in the loft because I needed to pick up some clutter in the master (mostly the closet) before they started in there.

... and then the mad dash. Stuffing unused pillows here, dusty silk vines there, an unhung picture on top of the stuffed pillows, and bags of various kinds hither and to. And more. The carpet, now completely visible, was ready for a good cleaning, deodorizing, and Scotch Guard-ing. Finally finished with preparation, I took my worn out self upstairs to let the Kiwi guys know.

As they sprayed and buffed my bedroom rug, I sat my weary mad dash self on the couch to catch my breath. I did my part, and now it was their turn to complete the job. De-cluttering takes effort, but finishing the job is for the pros.

All of this leads me to ponder...

A simple fact: sometimes I'm just a mess. And to clean all my life clutter would leave me exhausted, and mostly... unfinished.

... and still a mess.

Yet thankfully, God invites me to Him just the same, clutter and all. So in the middle of my sometimes messy life journey, I can simply rest in these Truths:

1) Jesus invited children to come to Him. My mothering days made it very clear that children are seldom clean. Mostly dirty from play, and messy from mudpie baking, Jesus held their messy bodies and loved them in spite of the mess.

2) Jesus washed the filthy feet of His disciples at dinner. Those sandaled feet had seen the dust of many dirt roads. And He actively invited each disciple to offer their mess to Him, so He could make it clean.

3) Jesus made mud and placed it over a blind man's eyes. Yes, He used a mess to heal.

The fact is, I can de-clutter my messy life only so far. But there is only one way to make it clean, and with no effort on my part.

... except complete surrender.

four seasons in as many days...

2011-04-04T18:07:00.011-05:00

These past four days I've cried. I've also laughed. I've smiled sublime - yes, a gentle, reflective, liquid smile transformed then to a smile preceding laughter, unwavering and planted there.

... and then, quiet

This thoughtful place, Linger, has suffered my absence. Yet maybe it hasn't, but I have suffered as result of its neglect. I haven't written words of what Linger looks like in real life. Authentic, raw, time-consuming, emotion-draining day-to-day life. So many seasons - days four - a fast, a fury-some journey.

A friend remembered... and laid to rest. His wife grieves deep emotion from a place where only one who has lost the promise of, "until death do us part." Her dad holds her, patting her back tender as she pours hot, heaving tears. Winter as day one. (And will you pray for Kay?)

Day two begins as day one draws to a close... Not in the thought of day as between sunrise and set, but day two in season. An evening of celebration (and public signing) with a dear one who's words are finally birthed new - as spring - in print for all to see. Her wisdom available to any who need a warm, tender book "conversation" offering support to parents of adult children. (Secrets to Parenting Your Adult Child, by Nancy Williams)

Day three rises with the sun... and laughter, summer and carefree. Not with anyone else; only me, alone. A day unfolding with joy. A gift, I believe. A grace moment of holy joy. And a time to learn, and linger with sister-friends who gift my life with presence.

And as the sun cools and the evening breeze blows twilight near, the love of my life and I shared dinner, family style with the dearest of friends. And then movement of twilight into dark night brings slumber. Day four... Autumn settling the flow of four seasons in as many days.

And my soul is transiently quiet...

And again... another set of seasons arrives today, morning autumn strikes furious with storm, another beloved family. And they set their face as flint...

I pray this Scripture.

Because the Sovereign LORD helps me, I will not be disgraced. Therefore have I set my face like flint, and I know I will not be put to shame. (Isaiah 50:7, NIV)

... and I prepare to journey through the seasons again.

Linger over thoughts of laughter...

2011-03-31T17:15:00.007-05:00

Today, I woke up laughing, and for most of the day, I've enjoyed at the very least, a smile. The day started like any other. Morning woke to bird songs and a puppy stretching at my side. A typical spring day. But there was this feeling of joy bursting. Not the kind that needs a precursor of something to react to, but a rogue tickle-type feeling. No, not a physical sensation, but one that came from nothing I suspected.

So what did I do? Well... I went with it. I giggled, grinned, and laughed at myself for being so ... so ... tickled. And I continued smiling and chuckling through the day. Scrubbed floors silly, danced with the mop. I swished toilet bowls, and polished countertops. I tackled the vacuum cleaning with equal humor.

Really, it's been a nonsensical sort of day... but I've enjoyed it.

... and I remember with lips upturned (which makes me laugh more)...

God named Abraham and Sarah's son: Isaac. His name meant laughter, yet God established His covenant with him. An everlasting covenant. Almost a conundrum of sorts... laughter in the mix of a serious Promise. I think that's why I love this portion of Scripture so very much. God has His plan for all of humanity, and in the midst of our reactions and actions, He goes with our "oh so human flow," and allows us laughter.

I wonder...

Does He know how simply overwhelmed we would be if we really attempted to understand His entire plan? Maybe... just maybe, laughter is a joyful reprieve for our human hearts.

But God said, Sarah your wife shall bear you a son indeed, and you shall call his name Isaac [laughter]; and I will establish My covenant or solemn pledge with him for an everlasting covenant and with his posterity after him. (Genesis 17:19, Amplified Bible)

a chain of swaying friendship unbroken...

2011-03-30T17:23:00.008-05:00

Today, I'm lingering with thoughts thankfulness for precious friends...

I've heard it said there are friends for various seasons that fade through time. Perhaps. But I much prefer friendships that span the years - and even miles.

As a Brownie, I remember a circle of little girls, including me (and my mom, who was our leader), crossing arms and clasping hands. A chain of swaying friendship unbroken. We sang...

Make new friends,

But keep the old.

One is silver,

the other's gold... (author unknown)

My husband's career has relocated our family three times over the years.

Friendships forged through time blessed in each place are all (and each) golden to me. Email, Facebook, Skype... keep us in touch. Even though warm hugs may be lacking, warm hearts are abundant. And together, we form our own swaying chain of friendship unbroken.

And to quote the last line of the above poem/song...

Across the land,

Across the sea,

Friends forever

We will always be...

His ever open arms...

2011-03-29T10:05:00.009-05:00

I remember the open arms, the pure availability. Those arms that wrap warm and tender, that never grow weary from my attendance. Yet if I choose, I can wander as they release me bidding exploration, to enjoy the dwelling place... and others (family) - also equally welcome to the open arms - who reside with me here.

Yet the arms which release call me, not with a voice that calls for an obedience of attendance, but a beckoning invitation. A wooing of gracious, forever Love. I smile, knowing the always open arms, and am welcome to come and go as I please, by His grace and prompting... but always in the cover of His dwelling. Never far from His presence. Always in hearing distance even though I explore far and wide. His Creation is lovely and all expanse. I wander, and enjoy. It is all His.

And then, I return to... He. Altogether beautiful. Altogether lovely. Altogether worthy. He... Jesus. His arms. The Shepherd, and I His lamb.

And I gaze upon the One Who loves me pure and wholly as He holds me in His ever open arms.

One thing I ask form the LORD, this only do I seek; that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to gaze on the beauty of the LORD and to seek him in his temple. (Psalm 27:4)

transition... not yet finished

2011-03-28T18:19:00.004-05:00

I bathe in the sun, not with intention of a blush, but for the comfortable warmth it brings in spring. Yet still, my skin mottles red. Buds, a promise of emerald, sage, olive, jade, and lime burst open with life anew and dance upon meeting the breeze. And I gaze upon the first rose of the season, brave with color, paving the way for the flamboyant procession sure to follow. All of nature transitions, and I am startled by beauty, even if I did expect it.

And then the north wind blows once again. Cooler air settles over the bursts of color carpeting the ground. Flowers shiver beneath the breeze, and so do I.

Transition is like that. Transitory. Seasons come, recede, and thankfully (or sometimes regretfully) come again. The movement of life does the same. Seasons come; they go. Sometimes they are all welcome and stay for a time. Other times they are unanticipated and stay far too long. Sometimes they offer beauty and sweet fragrance, comfort and warmth. Other times they cut with frigid cold and long storm-filled nights.

But by grace, all of life is transition. It moves, undulates, and is shaped by the hands of a Potter who knows His art medium intimately. And we, the vessels of His Hands know the change. We live it moment-by-moment, change unto change. In transition always... Not yet finished.

return to authentic heart...

2011-03-26T08:44:00.003-05:00

This weekend, I am pondering in linger moments a return to authentic heart. Spending vulnerable moments with the One Who sees the deep crevices of me. My own unawareness of hidden things - in me - are brought to Light when I kneel before the All-Knowing Father, Divine and Hallowed.

I wonder ~

2011-03-25T18:36:00.005-05:00

I wonder ~

Why do I craft words on this lonely page? In random quiet moments of the day, I open the laptop and load a program that offers the ability to communicate.

I wonder ~

What words will spill from my fingertips today? I ask the Father for guidance in penning a message. What can I possibly say... ? How do I unveil You... ? Am I self glory seeking or God Glory giving? Please weave the words before they fill this screen, Yahweh...

I wonder ~

If I had no followers. No friends or family to read the words poured out with prayer. Would I continue to visit this lonely screen each day?

And because I wonder ~

I ask the Lord... Is all of this really for You? Are You pleased? And I face the screen, ready now to please an audience of One. All of this, for Him. All of this, for You.

a day to pray...

2011-03-24T15:08:00.003-05:00

My neighborhood mourns one of ours today. And I am without words. Today is a day to pray.

a thought about seed faith... and a dream

2011-03-23T13:25:00.005-05:00

Today I read about faith in four different texts, One that counts far above the rest.

Mine is the Night (by Liz Curtis Higgs) weaves a fiction story similar to the Book of Ruth in Scripture. Man, The Dwelling Place of God (by AW Tozer) speaks of faith humble, gentle yet firm. Jesus Calling (by Sarah Young) pens the Father heart, increasing faith with God Word. The Holy Scriptures, The Word of God (inspired by God, Most High) reveals Him, that we can know Him.

This from His hand... The Apostles said to the Lord, "Increase our faith!" He replied, "If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mulberry tree, 'Be uprooted and planted in the sea,' and it will obey you." (Luke 17:5-6)

And not only this Scripture, but another...

He replied, "Because you have so little faith, Truly I tell you, if you faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you. (Matthew 17:20)

I desire faith increased. I need more faith. I want more faith! Lord, increase my faith! I shout with the disciples. I read God Word surrounding the verse texts above and discover the how of increased faith. The journey is hard... Experience of this nature comes at great price. Battle avails... and the weapons are not of this world. Yet Jesus offers the seed. But oh! to have a million seeds!

And the dream...

In the half-wake hours of slumber before sleep, I see a seed. Barely it comes into view, so small and inconspicuous. Yet I know, here in this time, it is a seed. It is peaceful, its presence in my near sleep. And then movement... The seed trembles powerful, and multiplies rapid out of itself. Thousands to a million seeds fill every pore of me and I can't contain. I am jolted awake fully. The half-slumber dream closed abrupt.

And I wonder...

One seed can move the impossible... What can a million do? Oh! to pour out those multiplied seeds! And then, I understand. Only one is needed. How many can I humbly give away? How can I spread the seed (the Good News)? Is this my labor?

And I wonder out of my heart, trembling in spirit... Am I serving well?

all moments are fleeting...

2011-03-22T17:20:00.007-05:00

I've never been first to leave a gathering. On the contrary, I often linger longer than expected. Not that I wouldn't want to make a hastier exit at times, but once the door closes behind me, moments of smiles, hugs, encouragement, and face-to-face relationship exit with me. I wonder if anything is left unsaid, or anyone's heart untouched. Do I make a difference in moments fleeting? It's not me I want them to see...

Am I a reflection of Christ?

And we all, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord's glory, are being transformed into his image with an ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit. (2 Corinthians 3:18)

the everyday-ness of everyday... and tomorrow

2011-03-21T12:51:00.006-05:00

Four-thirty this morning. I see it again. The raccoon feasting on seed and berries the birds leave behind. I see it there. Eyes shine piercing from below the feeder; and unsure of the masked creature, the Lhasa sees it too. Every morning sameness. The raccoon, the seed, the berries. At 7:00 AM, the squirrel pudgy with spring plenty arrives and takes his fill at his own table (of my suet setting). The sun peeks through the forest, and wakes birds from their slumber. They too, gather fluttering to feast. The morning dove coos gentle atop the fence.

I watch the scene unfold day after day. The sameness, the everyday-ness. And there is beauty in it all, grace unfolding provision. Morning-by-morning, new mercies.

And for a moment I wonder about tomorrow, and then, listen to Word whispers...

Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. (Matthew 6:34)

still...

2011-03-19T13:21:00.000-05:00

Praying this weekend offers opportunity to spend time... still... with the Father. His presence is comforting, peaceful, Love deep. Jesus is calling.

Oh Father, may I always answer. Time with You is full of wonder, and alive with Your glorious presence. Your invitation draws me. May I always be thirsty for more of You, so I will take more time to be Still...

two days and cattle on a thousand hills

2011-03-18T12:02:00.008-05:00

On the road with the love of my life. We didn't go far... eight hours up the road. Oklahoma. A quick trip this time, but sweet fellowship with my husband's brother and his wife. We share over thirty years of together memories. Has that much time really gone by? Our children, cousins, now grown are making their own remember years.

Life there is different than mine. Cattle moan deep close to their home. A solitary cat roams the back yard, waiting for prey. And Martins flutter around dwellings atop tall polls, preparing to raise families (and make memories) of their own. My sister-in-law, like me, delights in watching colorful, singing birds enjoy seed and berries on feeders hung in strategic places, just outside of picture window views from inside.

Camera in hand, Lhasa trotting by my heels, I take some alone minutes and wander toward open field. A family of another kind (making memories) gathered in community, doing what they do. They surprise me with their interaction. Cattle. Eight month old youngsters fight imaginary battles with each other, the adults ignoring their antics for the most part. Though I see some tender nudges... A white-faced, two-week-old calf watches too. And his mother keeps watch over him.

... And I remember The Word.

I have no need of a bull from your stall or of goats from your pens, for every animal of the forest is mine, and the cattle on a thousand hills. I know every bird in the mountains, and the insects in the field are mine. (Psalm 50:9-11)

He has no need of them, but I feel Him smiling warm over my delight of His Creation. I smile in return.

I love lingering here... It's peaceful. And I'm grateful for family who opens their home for wanderers like us. So generous, caring. With an abiding love for Christ, Who shines through conversation and hospitality.

grace to pray

2011-03-15T13:10:00.005-05:00

There is a heavy place in me today. That catch in the throat that threatens tears. Desperation in the middle of catastrophe unprecedented. And I ache desire to fix something I can't. To help those so far away I can't reach. Longing to comfort grief, offer hope, share a shoulder.

Miles, seems a million or more, separate my world from those on an island quaking in the Pacific. But one thing I can offer, is prayer. Words escape me though. The need is unspeakable. I meditate on the God's omnipresence. He is here; He is there. He knows the need. He knows the beyond words feeling I carry in my heart. But He is beyond words.

"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are you ways my ways," declares the LORD. "As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts.. than your thoughts." (Isaiah 55:8-9)

There is a covering. It blankets all of creation. It is grace. We wear it humble when we believe. It clothes us pure as we pass through the torn veil into the presence of our Father. It gives us audience. This gift. And He sees us there, knows our presence with Him. He knows our understanding is limited in times such as this. And I believe He knows that we, ourselves, though we are not shaking a million miles away, we tremble with trepidation of the unknown. For them; for us.

Words may escape me, but I can be in His presence. I can utter half-sentences or even fragments of words. He knows.

Before Him...

Under His Grace...

To pray...

today is all prayer for the shaken

2011-03-14T12:11:00.006-05:00

Trophies toppled from their high places on shelves above my baby brother's bed. In supposed slow motion, I pulled him from his rest to run from our shared room. My grandfather's trophies fell, but none scathed my brother. I was nine, and he had just celebrated his sixth birthday two days prior.

One room away, our mom leapt from her own bed and pulled us under her bedroom door casing. Grammy told us to stay there until the shaking stopped. We did as she said, and when the shaking stopped, we held to each other until our anxiety eased. News of bridges collapsed, a hospital destroyed, buildings crooked on foundations, and homes scattered with debris.

But my grandparents' house stood.

And the Earth moves still, and again. Other families are shaken, and worse. I cannot help but lift the lives of these before our Lord, the Creator of All... our Father, Who cares deeply, passionately for His Creation. He never stops calling.

And...

God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear,

though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters foam and the mountains quake with their surging. There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy place where the Most High Dwells. God is within her, she will not fall; God will help her at break of day. Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall; he lifts his voice, the earth melts. The LORD Almighty is with us; and the God of Jacob is our fortress. (Psalm 46:1-7)

And today, I trust in Him. And today is all prayer they will trust Him too.

weekend wandering

2011-03-12T13:32:00.004-06:00

Buds, barely visible, line bare branches. Blooms wake to the sun's warmth. Birds flutter frantic, dancing with mates and fighting for their place on the feeder. Dustings of yellow bring tickled sneezes. Yes, spring moves life slow into view. May you take moments to weekend wander through God's creation ...

when love is extravagant...

2011-03-11T16:51:00.001-06:00

These days leading to Resurrection Day leave me in awe of Christ's passion for us. Can I fully comprehend His Love? His deep, deep Love... It defies all human explanation, all human knowledge, all human emotion. His Love is beyond...

I remember, as a child broken, how He loved me tangible. Outward circumstances remained, but His Love, Jesus, my Savior... His Love never fails. Make it stop! I ran to Him... every time. I took shelter in Him. He sheltered my spirit, my soul.

I remember, as an adolescent, nearly woman, yet a girl still. Confused. Who am I? Love?

I remember, a young woman undone. Hiding from emotion raw. I just want everything perfect. Everything has its place. Each nook and cranny filled. Like Tetris. But the edges ground irritated. Harsh.

I remember, a woman healed. How tears flowed down. And heaving shoulders pressed heavy. Crumpled to the floor. Freedom came there.

And Love extravagant... He caught the shattered pieces of my heart, and pulled it whole to His. And grateful, thankful, I move to the rhythm of His grace.

before the 40 days...

2011-03-10T16:01:00.014-06:00

Heavy with child, I wade careful into the water. Grey hair, grandfatherly concern, he takes my hand to be sure of balanced footing. I'm twenty. I have loved God as long as I can remember, yet never have I waded into these tepid waters.

I turn shy and look through the faces of our congregation for the father of my child. He is there. And he smiles... encourages.

I turn toward wrinkled eyes and wispy grey hair and nod. He asks if I would like to say anything. I do. I can't remember my spoken words, but I remember the heart, the spirit guiding. I feel gentle movement of the little one hidden in the warm liquid of my womb, gently lifted in the waters surrounding me.

I think of Him, Jesus. Him, led by His Father (our Father) to His cousin. John invites the repentant into cool waters of the Jordan. A voice of one calling in the wilderness, Prepare the way for the Lord, make st

raight paths for him. (Matthew 3:3) I baptize you with water for repentance. [John says] But after me comes one more powerful than I, whose sandals I am not worthy to carry... (Matthew 3:11)

Jesus, Son of God, Son of man, God walking the soil of His created Earth. He approaches John for baptism. Jesus colors outside of humanity's line. He, perfect and holy. He, righteous and just. John, unsure, tried to deter him, saying I need to be baptized by you... (Matthew 3:14). Jesus knows the why. He explains to his cousin. And John consents.

I hear the pastor. "I baptize you, my sister, in the name of the Father, the Son, and Holy Spirit." I hold my breath, buried in warm waters, only for a moment. He helps me find the ground underneath me again, and I stand. He helps me climb the steps toward a woman waiting with a towel.

I recall... And a voice from Heaven said, "This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased." (Matthew 3:17).

And I pray silent... I hope you are well pleased with me, my Father.

And Jesus walks toward the wilderness... for 40 days.

I wonder about the cross of ash...

2011-03-09T13:42:00.000-06:00

I wonder about the cross of ash on foreheads. About the fasting of this time. The giving up of something here meaningful (is there really such a thing?). I think about the word, Lent. Something I don't fully understand, yet the essence is carved deep in my spirit.

What Jesus did. The offering of Him, by Him.

For me.

I can scarce take it in. It disturbs to the very core, what He did.

For me.

Appalled by by the cruel lashes, 39. Prostrate under the burden of the Cross. He, making the way to Calvary.

For me.

I don't have an outward cross of ash on my forehead to be seen. Yet, I'm wearing it inward. And I'm remembering, this 40 days ahead are about Jesus, and what He did.

For me.

a million tears

2011-03-08T17:25:00.005-06:00

How many tears, Lord, do you keep an accounting of? How many bottles are full to overflow?

You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book. (Psalm 56:8)

A million is a number inconsequential as I consider the abundance of life here, in this world fallen. Though I also see through tears of purest joy. Yet You say, all my tears, yes, You say, All.

When tears flow down, no matter the cause, You place Your bottle - just so - to catch with compassion each one.

Lord, I trust You with my tears. They are the expressive part of my heart. Deepest grief; furthest reaches of delight. They are personal, vulnerable. Tears are the essence of my authentic self... And if they are sincere, they are humanity's gift of expression. God-given.

tears from memories past

2011-03-07T16:48:00.012-06:00

Breezes gentle paste wisps of my hair against my damp face. I face the open window and weep in the wind. I am eight.

Why do young children suffer so?

Daddy clears his throat. I turn slight to face him. Is he going to speak? Just the slightest sound of his voice will tear my heart in two. I watch his Adam's apple bob up, and then down on his neck. He clears his throat again.

"Daddy?" My brother, unrestrained in the back seat stands, feet on the floorboard, leaning close to our father's ear.

"Sit down, son," Daddy whispers tender and pats the side of my little brother's head. My brother sits.

Silence...

Why must a child's heart pound with pain profound?

Without turning to look, I reach for my daddy's hand, and it envelopes mine complete. He holds my tiny fingers with gentle fervor. I feel safe. I can't think about it now. It's not real. But I know in my heart it is. I hate divorce!

No longer able to contain my tears, my shoulders tremble and I cry. My daddy's grip tightens on my hand, and he steers the blue sedan to the side of the road and stops. My stomach churns.

"Daddy, I don't feel good. My tummy hurts."

Raw emotion cuts deep, even in the heart of a child.

"Do you feel like you're going to be sick?" He brushes the back of his hand light over my forehead. And I nod.

He helps me out of the car, into the muggy June night. Crickets and locust surround us with night songs. "Do you feel better, now?" I shake my head. He scoops me secure into his arms and I lay my head on his shoulder. His familiar cologne wafts heavy in the humid air.

"Better?" And I nod barely.

My daddy. Rescuer in midnight hours, chasing away monsters and soothing fears beyond nightmares. Singer of Jesus Loves Me in the middle of thunderstorms raging. "Daddy?" He sets me on the ground and kneels beside me.

"Yes?"

"I'm leaving tomorrow with Mommy and my baby brother..." My eyes fill with the sting of fresh tears. My little brother opens the back seat car door, and wipes his own damp face. He runs toward us wobbly on four year old legs. The two of us, wrapped in our daddy's embrace. It's real.

Fairy tale stories of happily-ever-after only exist in the land of pretend.

"Will we ever see you again, Daddy?" I barely have voice to ask, but he hears me.

"Oh yes, you'll see me again. I love you. I love you both so much." He holds us for what seems hours, but not nearly long enough. Finally, he lifts my brother, takes my hand and walks us back to the car.

"I don't want to go home now, Daddy. Not yet."

"Your mom will be worried if I don't get you back soon." He pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket and wipes his tearful face. He starts the car and drives us home.

Today I linger in prayer for children wounded.

Release... to Linger

2011-03-05T11:38:00.006-06:00

This weekend...

Release me, Lord and all my sisters, to see You in everything we see, to hear You in everything we hear. Our eyes; Yours. Our ears; Yours. Our hearts and every beat; wholly Yours. Each one of us; Yours.

And thankful...

heart and fragrance

2011-03-04T15:30:00.011-06:00

White roses smooth like satin wired to grapevine backing. A gift of heart for my grandmother, Grammy. I remember the act of giving, my heart toward her. All precious, all sweet, all caring, and kind, Grammy. If only I could have used roses unfeigned on this gift, dream of fragrance never ending, color never fading. Greenery fresh surrounding the beauty blooms. But my desire for her enjoyment was meant for an enduring time. The real would not have lasted.

Grammy's mind, failing with Alzheimer's, her life, short for our world. But if she could see beauty, and if it would make her smile... To the Father, will You breath Your breath and exhale a sweet fragrance through my gift?

And now, the roses home with my "I love you infinity" mom. She added pink to the white, a touch of her. I love her touch... And again... Father, will You breath Your breath and exhale a sweet fragrance through my gift?

I linger in thought of heart and fragrance and Mary comes to mind...

Then Mary took about a pint[a] of pure nard, an expensive perfume; she poured it on Jesus’ feet and wiped his feet with her hair. And the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. (John 12:3)

Jesus, well pleased. And how I desire to be Mary, washing the feet of my Lord with tears and hair mine

And then...

And walk in the way of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God. (Ephesians 5:2)

when it takes a second touch...

2011-03-03T12:30:00.005-06:00

Morning breaks with shades of grey. Distant treetops barely visible, except to the discerning eye. I wonder - if sometimes - God clouds our vision of the distant. Futures we aren't meant to see... yet. Days we aren't meant to experience... yet. Emotions we are incapable of processing... yet.

I wonder about the blind man...

He took the blind man by the hand and led him outside the village. When he had spit on the man’s eyes and put his hands on him, Jesus asked, “Do you see anything?”

He looked up and said, “I see people; they look like trees walking around.”

Once more Jesus put his hands on the man’s eyes. Then his eyes were opened, his sight was restored, and he saw everything clearly.

(Mark 8:23-25)

Full healing came as a two-step process, at least as we can see. Yet, I wonder how long was the process, really? What series of events placed him in front of the Healer in that very moment? Why did Jesus spit into the blind man's eyes? Why was the man incapable of focusing initially? Why did it take a second touch of Jesus to clear the blind man's vision?

For some heavenly reason, the process mattered.... and the man's sight was restored. I don't know why. But I trust in this: all experience with God is grace and love.

And the offense clouds and sin mist were swept away... Because when Jesus heals, He heals from the inside out.

I have swept away your offenses like a cloud, your sins like the morning mist. Return to me, for I have redeemed you. (Isaiah 44:22)

beautiful gathering...

2011-03-02T17:26:00.003-06:00

Beautiful by MercyMe

I'm late, I know. This post is showing well past the norm of daily time. But today started early... and sweet. Sisterfriends gathered around wooden tables, and supped on a variety of French cuisine. Today... a beautiful gathering.

Each of us with a story inside. Each of us with a past. Each of us having suffered pain somewhere along this journey, life. Some of our pain self-inflicted. Some served from misguided hands of others, sometimes purposely inflicted. And some hurt, some pain a result of the Fall, and some pointedly enemy-driven.

But as I gaze around the room I see grace. All grace. All mercy. And joy. Even in the human weathering of seasons gone by.

And I wonder...

Does each one know their value before the King? Do they know He is captivated by their beauty? The past is put away. He's calling. Jesus, calling...

Now listen, daughter, don't miss a word: forget your country, put your home behind you. Be here—the king is wild for you. (Psalm 45:10-11)

But today, each of us embracing others with smiles and lightly brushed kisses on sides of faces. New sisterfriends and golden sisterfriends.

How I pray each one knows her worth.

... of few words

2011-03-01T11:24:00.004-06:00

Quiet. In my mind, in my heart, in my soul. All is quiet. I listen. Noise is all around me, like a tuning of fine instruments before the symphony, random in tone, yet equal in note.

But still...I am quiet.

Today is a day to listen.

My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me. (John 10:27)

linger pondering for today...

2011-02-28T11:21:00.006-06:00

I remember yesterday...

Sunday begins with worship, yes, as everyday. But Sundays are different. Cooperate worship brings the faithful (and some unfaithful) into the chapels, churches, cathedrals all over the world. Church bells ring, choirs voice songs of tradition and contemporary. Stringed instruments sing, trumpets praise, percussion beats with heart keeping time with shouts and whispers. I lift hands and tilt head upward, fall on repentant knees, and bow in honor of the One and Only, God. I listen to those standing close voice their praise, like me, not always in perfect key, but raised to the One Who hears all beauty in a sincere heart.

I keep my eyes closed...

The worship leader shouts directive, interrupting, "Now, sing!" I wonder, who is she shouting to? Does she see lips unmoving, hearts unstirred?

I open my own eyes.

Music continues...LIghts dim and lift in color keeping rhythm with the piano keys. Screens portray pictures that reach for my attention. And I watch for clues of music direction. I see all smiles, all joy. All sway to movement of (worship?) Distracted.

I close my eyes again...

I wonder about the Cross. The rough hewn wood, the thorn crown, the blood shed. The flesh torn, unrecognized. Death. And I remember the Resurrection, the raising by the power of the Holy Spirit. The same Spirit Who lives and moves freely in me (and in millions of others who have surrendered lives to our risen Christ). And I wonder... What does all of this really mean. Am I living the essence of Truth?

Musical notes ebb and flow, and they are beautiful. Yet I ponder still. Is the new "cross" opposed to authentic worship? Is the Cross, the rough-hewn splintered wood lifted with Jesus remembered in the new worship? I wonder, is this all show? Do I understand that the message of the Cross sometimes makes unpleasant demands of me? The Cross slays completely, all of me.

Abrupt end to song opens my eyes... The congregation sits comfortable.

Announcements come, brusque to my hearing. "I will be teaching a new Bible study..." I cringe. "My ministry..." I swallow hard. Words from one so human. And I remember my own words past, similar, but shaken through the years. The Cross demands more. The Cross Jesus suffered on, the Cross of Sacrifice for all, for me... The rough-hewn splintered wood does not run parallel, but intersects at the very heart of the One who loves deep and eternal. This intersection changes the course of humanity, if we allow it. It is abrupt. It is good.

The gathering of believers ends and with eyes wide open now, I exit the house and give thanks. Today, the message of the man is outweighed by the Message of the Son of Man. I linger, even in the busyness of the day to come, with this pondering. And slips of tears warm my face throughout the day, I laugh, I smile, I work, I eat, I hug, I dance. I love this Sunday, all. It is full of family. And it is full of Truth and Light.

weekend morning

2011-02-26T09:21:00.003-06:00

Weekend morning slumber awakens to gentle waking stretches and tender husband kisses. The Lhasa stirs at my feet and morning growls. It's her sweet habit. I wrap my shoulders in the cozy robe and listen to the click of the Lhasa's feet as we make our way slow across the wood floor. Perfect morning cool embraces us as we step across the threshold. Finches skitter from the feeder and the Lhasa wonders at their hurry.

Such is the beginning of my weekend... and all is calm.

Praying your weekend is gentle in spirit and joyful in meaning.

LINGERing in the mess of stress

2011-02-25T15:56:00.005-06:00

Sometimes, days are all a mess. Stress digs, scratches from the inside out. Every sense heightens, adrenaline rushes, and the head pounds a rhythm awkward and tempo undefined. Louder, stronger, heavy and deep. It rattles the core.

... and in the middle of the cacophony, I put out a flare. A prayer of "help!" A prayer of, "I know You're here, I just to hear You're here." it's not so much that I need to hear His voice. I need to hear myself speak to Him, to remind myself in the messiness, He's never gone anywhere. He is here. He is... Yes, I hear You, Lord.

... I AM.

... and I breathe steady. Circumstances unchanged. My hands still busy, mind engaged in the chaos of what is today, But I am all changed. A settling of fretful thoughts, the ragged peaks of anxiety ease.

I hide in the shadow of His wings, and I sing whispers of thanks.

Because you are my help, I sing in the shadow of your wings.(Psalm 63:7)

all today is awe

2011-02-24T11:38:00.003-06:00

I am in awe of Him today. In awe of His creation. In awe of His relentless love to the very individual of His creative hand. How does a God Who fashions all existence through the furthest galaxies (yet unknown to humanity) find it in Himself to know and love me intimately? I have no earthly idea... and most likely that is the very foundation of my lack of understanding - of God.

He is Spirit. He is Truth. He is Life. He is Salvation, Redeemer, Counselor, Friend, and Father.

And selah... I must pause and let those truths penetrate deep into my soul again and again.

I offer thanks, whispered.

And more now... He is Healer, Banner, Provider.

And selah...

He loves me with Eternal Love -one that never fails or changes. His Love is, as He is.

These are the thoughts I'm lingering with today. And words are hardly adequate to express them. And if they ask, Father?

And God said to Moses, I AM WHO I AM and WHAT I AM, and I WILL BE WHAT I WILL BE; and He said, You shall say this to the Israelites; I AM has sent me to you! (Exodus 3:14 Amplified Bible)

today is all rest, restore, renew

2011-02-23T11:29:00.009-06:00

Sometimes, a day is all a blur. And the movement leaves me unsteady on my feet. A sort of vertigo traps life's delicate balance in her web, and I sway. And I reel. And I fall (or do I leap?) into a pit of murk and mire. I wander there, slog there. Wonder how to make my way out of such a bleak, black place. I moan and cry and yes, I take handfuls of murk heavy and press them on my own head. The weight of it, oppressive and choking brings me to my knees (I should have been here in the very first place). Breath labors under the force of mire. Voice struggles to be heard. I strain against the battle (and it is ferocious).

I realize in the bleak, one catalyst spurred my fall/leap. And I ponder my reaction. How human of me. How dare I, really. I whisper, "I'm sorry" to the One who holds the Universe, including the pit of murk and mire. And murk begins to cake hard upon my head. Cracks and breaks in a million pieces and falls far below. Only then, I realize I'm cradled in the palm of His hand. He is lifting me out. Slowly. And there is purpose in the slow. I watch the walls of the pit as they pass by. Each cracked foothold represents the ascent, my ascent. My footprints, at the edge of the pit. And I look further away. Dragging footprints. I see the trap door, how it opened, beckoned. And pulled too.

I watch. And I learn. And I cry. Tears puddle in the hand of my Savior. He receives them, changes them. Like water from the sea, He turns them to clouds, pregnant with grace. Louder than a whisper now, I voice, "I'm sorry."

Tenderly, He sets me on solid ground, far from the slip of the edge of that pit. I watch as He moves earthen dirt, filling the pit of my stronghold. He touches my dusty face, gathering one last tear. And the rain begins! Drops gentle. I tilt my face heavenward. Open my voice in glorious thanks-FULL!

Soaked in warmth of His reign, cleansed from the mire and murk, I bow. He wraps me in garments white. And He says, "Rest now. (Mark 6:31) There will be other battles to fight.(1 Timothy 1:18-19) But I'll always be there. (Hebrews 13:5)"

And today is all rest... all restoration... all renew.

all todays are praise

2011-02-22T13:30:00.004-06:00

Golden rays peek shy over over a tree-lined horizon and in the breaking through the quiet dawn, birds begin to sing. One lilting song joined by another in harmony. And the whole chorus in treetops crescendos as birds take to wing. Wings soar in precision. Climbing heavenward and swooping earthbound. The mass of many becomes the whole. And it is beauty... all.

... and I empty my mind of human aspirations, desires of the flesh (which I am) and offer "I'm sorry," where I walk closely to a pit of, "I want." I offer "thank you," a million times over. "Thank You" to Him, but most of all, "thank you," for Him. He fulfills. He is all gain. He is all desire. Human aspirations, desires of the flesh (which I am), disintegrate and crumble away. Yet sometimes, not without scars...

All today is praise.

And all todays are praise.

gratitude is hearing "you're welcome"

2011-02-21T09:06:00.007-06:00

Gratitude changes perspective. It does. Yes, I know. But sometimes it's hard - life challenging. Like the discipline of physical exercise, gratitude needs determined, resolved practice.

So... today I'm grateful for: a car alarm beeping the arrival of our youngest for a visit... a text message relaying a showing on my oldest son's house... spinach stuffed sandwiches and few dark chocolate squares to satisfy the sweet craving... naps, which really help when the night before was long... a playful Lhasa exhausted after games of fetch and belly rubs who now sleeps curled up beside my thigh... a phone call from the delivery man who says I'll be there shortly with your TV table and an end table to dress up the "wild west" upstairs loft... watching my hubby REALLY relax for a day or two...

And that which had me perplexed, befuddled, fades to light. Even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you. (Psalm 139:12)

Most of all... I'm grateful to have someOne to express my gratitude toward. Without Him, I'd have no one to say, "you're welcome." And each time I express the sincerest thanks, "you're welcome" is the part that really makes me smile. And again, I give thanks.

What are you thankful for today?

the weekend unfolds

2011-02-19T09:44:00.010-06:00

Lingering moments of weekend mornings move slow. Syrup puddles and drip over crusted waffles. Sadie yawns lazy and stretches, purring.

The Lhasa takes her place on the "bridge" upstairs watching the domain of her neighborhood. The "lion dog."

Later, we'll wander the forest path, and if the Lhasa is still, my lens may glimpse a squirrel or a bluebird, or cardinal. My mind quiet and my heart thank-full... my soul content and spirit fed.

And the weekend unfolds...

preparing to remember

2011-02-18T07:52:00.007-06:00

The loss of someone close is never easy. And September 23 past was no exception. My love, my husband, lost his dad. And Heaven gained another soul. His home sits as a monument of sorts, empty and hollow after the memorials and visitations until... Yet again, we prepare to remember. Brothers will gather, sisters-in-law in support. We will all quiet enter through the door and wonder where to begin. Hidden spaces in abandoned closets beckon, kitchen cabinets call. This man, who called God his friend, his Savior, and King, sprinkled trinkets of faith for us grieving still. Stray tears will trickle and be quickly wiped away as we remember.

How will we determine what is keep-worthy, what to give, and what to let go? Each possession, a reminder of life lived well. We'll recall the memories, and remember more as we sift through books, letters, dishes, pots, pans, and all things that make a household live for a man. This CD, that movie, these photographs... that blanket, those sheets and towels. Shaving cream. Through all of this, we'll remember. We will share stories and laughter. I have 30 years of stories, my sisters-in-law have more. I am married to the youngest son of three.

We've never done this before, this chore of sorting through the years. He is the first of our parents to soar to Heaven. So we'll learn. And we'll lean on each other. We'll be careful to ask what has meaning, what each one would like to keep. And we'll watch for silent moments of heads weighted in hands to bring light touches to tense shoulders.

I'll watch my husband, my love, work through tools, storage bins and other garage utensils. Work needs done, yet raw emotion remains. Adrenaline for the moment will carry him through the motions, but I know it will come. He'll be quiet then, and I'll know. And I'll whisper a prayer for strength, and offer a tender hug. My sisters-in-law will do the same for their working men.

... and we'll remember. He is Home. He finished well.

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8:38-39)

when the day is all calm and smiles

2011-02-17T07:31:00.010-06:00

Sometimes a day calls for Linger, lighthearted and giggles. Sweet sister-friend hugs. Silly stories and secrets shared.

Breaking bread and hands curled warm around steaming cups. Touching hands, hearts. Today is such a day.

Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. (1 John 4:7)

a day for lifting

2011-02-16T07:35:00.007-06:00

Prostate. Body pressing into Earth created by Your Voice ("and it was good")

The sheer weight of the whole overwhelms and sometimes I crumble beneath the burden. Faces move before the mindful eye and fragments of words utter from lips. Sentences too complex to speak. But a pouring of the soul nonetheless. "Salvation for this one, Lord... and for many You Love. Healing for her, Lord... and for so many I know." I could use the touch of healing balm too. "And exchange of peace for chaos in that home... and another. Provision for lack in a home of those I love... and so many others. Your Direction. Your Wisdom. Open eyes, Lord. Sharpen hearing. Remove self-destruction, mutilation of his and hers true authentic selves, images of You, created by You. May they pursue, as You run toward them with open arms, robe tucked. Welcoming them Home. Where embrace is compassion and comfort, and welcome-full." More needs swirl and I feel the substance of them on my heart, Lord. "This one wears anxiety as her garment, Lord. It pulls and scratches. She needs exchange... the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness."

And I crawl forward, lift my head slight. Garment of praise...

And I rise to kneel, hands raised. open palms. Garment of praise...

And I stand, head facing sky, eyes fixed upward. Garment of praise...

The sheer weight of the whole falls from shoulders long bent with worry. Fear steps in line with faith and vanishes. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. Arms stretch high and wide open. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light. I twirl in the Truth of Him.

... and trust.

so this is Linger

2011-02-15T08:50:00.013-06:00

Moment by moment, hour by hour, the day slips away. Life in humanity's time moves from the quiet of first light quick into dusk. And I am left pondering. Did I make "time" in the day to express sufficient gratitude and adoration to the One who moves not in our plane of time?

My soap-filmed hands wring the cloth, and the plate rinses clear under running water.

Longing to be on my knees, hands empty of chores, idle in rest, with ability to turn palms open in a consecrated - planned - time and place. I long for morning devotion, steaming mug, open journal, Word of God. Surely I'm Martha, and once again, Mary has chosen what is better (Luke 10:38-42) And it occurs to me, the Word - The Word. Mary listening, soaking in the very Word.

I pull towels from the dryer, hold warmth close before folding.

My pondering shifts from human wondering thought. I'm aware of the change. Subtle, the Spirit lifts my perception from the secular, and gently lays it at the feet of Sacred. Fix these words of mine in your hearts and minds; tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Teach them to your children, talking about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. (Deuteronomy 11:18-19) The Word, alive and active, while I sit, walk, lie down, and rise.

Another basket of dirty clothing awaits my attention. And without hesitation, I load it into the washer. I'm smiling. Can't help the giddiness of the moment. I'm living THE moment, His moment transcending time.

So this is what it is to Linger...

when love is Trust

2011-02-14T09:44:00.016-06:00

All hearts and flowers and chocolate. Pinks, reds, blush, and beautiful. Shy smiles, butterfly kisses, hearts aflutter. Passion, deep-knowing, ring-bearing, promise love.

The Fall has consequences. Something, not love, but masked in the name, tears and breaks. Trusting hearts rend... and retreat. And hide. The wounded child, broken and weeping, clutches the heart close. Bewildered.

The bride, stunned and shattered into a thousand pieces, cries a million tears for promise broken.

And they both ask, "What is love? Is it real?" And that place is dark, foreboding. The questions mystify and remain unanswered without Light. And the journey is valley. Mountaintop glimpses leave wounded hearts questioning the reality of peaks at all. They wander. They search. Paths threaten destruction and the core of hurt remains.

... yet there is Seed. He planted it there. It was, It is. Though the valley is dry, dew presents in Manna sweet. Wounded-ness, gazes upon the sheen. The vision of it pulls, tugs. "But can It be trusted?" child and bride plead for the answer. Eat. But they close rent hearts, clasp bleeding hands, and pass by. They walk long in the day and crawl in the dark.

... and the glistening never fails. Each day it is new, fresh. And the vision of it pulls, tugs. "Is It safe?" child and bride plea with One unseen. "Is It good?" Taste and see that I am good... And finally, the broken child reaches tentative. Unsure. She brushes a fingertip lightly against It. She smiles. "It's warm." And He smiles. She reaches again, and gently lifts dew from the parched ground. It glimmers in her hand.

The bride watches hesitant...

Small fingers hold tenderly the Manna, and slowly the child raises it to her lips. The fragrance sweet sharpens her long-deceived senses. She inhales long, drinks the aroma deep. And her tongue touches radiance. She slips her hand from the grip of the shattered bride. Hand healed, she reaches for the One whose Hand is scarred. And He holds fast and gentle.

The bride longs... Taste. Tarnished gold-wrapped fingered hand reaches. "It's warm." She smiles. And He smiles. She reaches and tenderly lifts Manna from parched ground. Oh, how It shines! And the fragrance sweet sharpens long-deceived senses. She inhales long. And she tastes... and eats. And reaches healed hand to the One Who is scarred.

"We can trust You?" And His embrace is all peace, all warm. The wounded child, restored, the shattered bride, whole dance on the mountaintops with He Who loves them eternal.

... and covenant.

I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with unfailing kindness. (Jeremiah 31:3)

when love is Promise

2011-02-12T09:02:00.008-06:00

Will you join me in pondering Promise through footsteps of the weekend? How I love sharing this journey with you, dear sister-friends...

I have set my rainbow in the clouds, and it will be the sign of the covenant between me and the earth. (Genesis 9:13)

Whenever the rainbow appears in the clouds, I will see it and remember the everlasting covenant between God and all living creatures of every kind on the earth. (Genesis 9:16)

Like the appearance of a rainbow in the clouds on a rainy day, so was the radiance around him. This was the appearance of the likeness of the glory of the LORD. When I saw it, I fell facedown, and I heard the voice of one speaking. (Ezekiel 1:28)

God is not human, that he should lie, not a human being, that he should change his mind. Does he speak and then not act? Does he promise and not fulfill? (Number 23:19)

And this is what he promised us—eternal life. (1 John 2:25)

when love is tender

2011-02-11T08:32:00.007-06:00

"I love you." She simply says.

And I grin, the sheepish sleepy grin. The expectant reply bubbles in my child chest and I am unable to contain the words longer. "I love you more!"

That look, out of the side of her eye. I see it coming... And again, the expected. "Oh no... I love YOU more." And she tousles my hair, wild on the feather pillow.

I giggle. I am loved. I know by not just the words, but by Mother's voice. And I reply the expected. "Oh no..." and child arms stretch wide. "I love you this much!" And quickly, I tuck my arms into the side of my body. But not fast enough. The tickle. And I laugh wildly...

and then my mother with arms wider than mine stretches them far. "I love you..." and stretching further still, "this much."

Meaningful exchange between mother and daughter before slumber. Yet still un-ended. I find expression in the only word I know to indicate clear the manifestation of my child heart sentiment. "I love you infinity!"

"I love you infinity too." And she seals it with a kiss. She walks softly to the door, turns. Briefly our eyes catch and she slips away. And I sleep, wrapped in tender comfort mother love.

And I sleep too... in another love not yet understood.

As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you (Isaiah 66:13)

life-Breath

2011-02-10T09:29:00.013-06:00

The first drop. I feel it over my face. The thawing. Frozen landscape of me beginning to melt warmly. The shape, the form of me, created in His image opens with eyes new. I struggle to comprehend the meaning, but something, Someone, is caressing with breath. I inhale, and the warming moves deep.

The Spirit of God has made me; the breath of the Almighty gives me life. (Job 33:4)

It occurs to me then in warming stillness, winter's grip is unyielding. And I remember Narnia, captive to winter far too long. Frozen in dormancy. Winter's appearance suggests death. But there is a stirring... and through this supposed death, it stirs gentle, apparent only to the Creator's eye. My own eye, hindered of spiritual sight fails to see - feel - the movement of winter.

Until...

My beloved spoke and said to me, “Arise, my darling, my beautiful one, come with me. See! The winter is past; the rains are over and gone. Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come, the cooing of doves is heard in our land. The fig tree forms its early fruit; the blossoming vines spread their fragrance. Arise, come, my darling; my beautiful one, come with me.” (Song of Solomon 2:10-12)

Winter served her purpose. She reshaped the landscape of me. And the Breath warms as it thaws to reveal the new. I inhale the restoration, and finally exhale the fragrant beauty of His Creation. Yes!

I am my Beloved's and He is mine. (Song of Solomon 6:3)

And you, beautiful sister-friends... Can you feel the Breath warming, caressing? Winter unyielding cannot sustain its hold at the life-breath of God.

sometimes the heart is fragile

2011-02-09T08:42:00.009-06:00

Sometimes the heart is fragile. Today. I grip trust, cling fast. And realize, all my strength in gripping fails. And the slipping begins. I struggle to hold fast. The strain is too much. And I surrender.

i let go... breath held.

Yet I do not fall. One Whose hands grip mighty hold fast, and I breathe blessed-breath again, hard and rapid.

i trust... and tears.

He tenderly lifts me. And I lean in, feel the cadence of One whose heartbeat never fails, sure and true. Circumstance yet unchanged. But the fragile heart beats healing one restored rhythm at a time. This is all I have. This trust, more than enough. Abundant to move me through the minutes and hours of this earthbound day. Enough to sustain. My breath slows, human heart restores.

i am grateful... And lean further in.

His Word, open, marked by tears on worn page, engraved within, wells, rises in Spirit. Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.

i listen... and faith.. and hope.

the very Word

2011-02-08T08:15:00.011-06:00

(Isaiah 55:11)

Today is reflective of the Word. The Word Who always accomplishes His purpose. Just like rain and snow bring forth growth, life, so the Word brings forth yield to the garden of Earth's humanity.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. (John 1:1)

Today is reflective of Jesus, The very Word.

For no word from God will ever fail.
(Luke 1:37)

Today is reflective of the very Word of God will never fail.

her glimpse of Eternity

2011-02-07T09:39:00.008-06:00

"I ran to the shore. Watching. The sight lingers with me still, to this day. I remember smiling and wanting. I watched."

I heard the thirst in her recall. She more than wanted that which she saw. More than wanted that which she experienced from afar. Him. She wanted Him. My grandmother's voice quivered on the end of the wire. I heard her tears, longed to hold her close. Though miles separated, our hearts in unison, beat together with His, Jesus.

"He loves you..." and my own tears escaped eyes burning with desire of more of Him. More to share, more to spill through this handset I held.

And she said. "I love Him."

Her encounter with God on the shore, I know now drew her child heart to her True Father. Our One True Father. And in the remembering, the Alzheimer"s remembering, the spontaneous Spirit cry, emerging Child heart, she desired Him still.

And one white-robed figure followed by another quietly emerged from the wet of quiet water. She watched the man tenderly carry each one into the depths and then help them arise. New, and smiling. And pure joy. She watched. She told me of her child tears and wonder then, and I heard the longing Child.

And so did He.

a weekend to recover

2011-02-05T11:45:00.007-06:00

Today I breathe deep the aroma of steeping tea. Eager for the first soothing sip. Sick days are like this sometimes.

one momentary embrace

2011-02-04T08:25:00.014-06:00

Sometimes I do something good and wonder if anyone sees. God sees. And He sends a bouquet of thanks. Beauty to hold, fragrance to delight. And then I remember to return it to Him, The Giver of all things Good.

I remember the scent of them, the fragile stems.
I remember the life held close to my heart.
I remember the reason it was mine
I remember Your pleasure in my sheer delight of ...

One momentary embrace

Breathe in the sweet fragrance, my Child

I remember my heart captivated by the precious gift I held close

Breathe deeply of my reward, Precious One

Mine to hold, You said, mine to enjoy. Yet...

Child?

And I lift the beauty to my Lord, a gift only mine for...

A moment is sufficient, more than enough, I cry to my Savior. Thank You...

You bring the increase,
You draw them in.
You offered Your Son
In place of their sin.

I bow at Your feet, Lord, amazed by Your grace. Amazed You trust...
One momentary embrace.

Bowing low. Humble. I lay beauty before Him...

But this fragrant collection, Yours God, not mine.
One momentary embrace
Yet eternal in time.

No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws them... John 6:44

mud puddles, delight, and healing

2011-02-03T10:10:00.005-06:00

"Go! Jump! Play! That's what puddles are for..." Only moments before, dark sky weeping. Heavy tears cool terra firma and leaves gifts of pocketed water scattered. Some clean, glistening under opening sky. Others clouded, mud-laden. But never mind. bare feet touch tentative, and soon change begins. Transitions of uncertainty. Toes swish side to side and water art begins. Swirls and circles, waves and still. Arcs of light reflect multicolored rainbows and delight feasting eyes. Braver now, mud squishes and darkens exploring feet... ankles.

A barely audible echo... "Get out of that mud! Now!" Louder now. Abrupt. "Come in at once and change!" Hasty retreat. And I grieve. Jolted.

Time to cast aside shadows of what was, embrace now. Muddy children, one in diaper, question their mama's momentary stillness, fleeting now. I am a woman transformed, and wade, toes exposed. Becoming. He is changing me. He brings freedom to splash, dance, twirl.

Shadow past no longer captures my fragile heart, strong heart. I am changed. Six tiny eyes glint with mischief and I grin that knowing grin.

Muddy and spent... and joy-full we trek home. And I ponder the mud healing, and smile.

He replied, “The man they call Jesus made some mud and put it on my eyes. He told me to go to Siloam and wash. So I went and washed, and then I could see.” John 9:11

agapaō... everyday verb

2011-02-02T08:11:00.010-06:00

Awakened. Warm under covers down. Good morning whispers through lips and voice coarse and dry from sleep. And the mind wanders. What will my day hold? My children come to mind. Do they early morning recognize You, Lord, too?

A gathering of like-hearted sisterfriends a few hours forth brings more wonder. Will anyone new enter our fold today? How can I welcome her? And then, It's awfully cold outside. What will I wear? The dog barks gentle, voice coarse and dry from her slumber. Good morning, sleepy puppy...

My thoughts, my expressions toward God, communing with God Emmanuel in the morning drift. And an ember of recognition rekindles the wandering, wondering mind. I will my thoughts to turn back to good morning whispers. A feeble, human attempt to reign in the busy mind really, and again, reluctant, I wander...

And then...

Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ Matthew 22:37

Mind-full of Jesus Words, drifting thoughts submit to the Call. Wrapped in His presence, heart, soul, mind all captivated. Full focus. His Presence captures me. Love words lost in rapt attention. Woman mortal words fail, every utterance attempt falls flat, and I am undone. And still. Quieted.

And then His Will in Word...

Love your neighbor as yourself. Matthew 22:39

No matter the plans, no matter the gathering. No matter. Love... and then, Love.

Love, agapaō A subtle to-do. A verb I understand in His presence.

I bow, kneel, "Your will. With agapaō."

Fragile

2011-02-01T07:51:00.009-06:00

I've witnessed fragile. I've touched it, and felt its existence barely on my face. I've held it, and I've let it go. Fragile is precarious beauty, and shatters sometimes. Weathered and broken until the Restorer gently lifts each piece with the meticulous hand and soothes jagged edges with balm. Never the same... repurposed by Divine design. Wholly broken. Holy broken. ... and beautiful

Thirsty

2011-01-30T21:23:00.013-06:00

"Please! Can we stop for a drink of water? Please!" The car motored on. Drifted smoke, pungent and choking fills each inhale. I am nine, and and never have I been so thirsty. I lay back against the hot vinyl seat... too parched for tears. I fan dirty haze, foul swirls and circles of smoke. The child hand is too small, and the cough hurts. Promises of "be home soon," fall flat and dull on nine-year-old ears. And the car motored on.

"Please, oh please, Father. I thirst." Never have I been so parched. Polluted by sin. Clouded by regret-filled choices, shame. World inhaled, choking away life Spirit-full. I am grown, but young, oh so young. I disengage from stench of world-full life, yet remain, one toe in the arid place. The mortal hand, too small to wave away. Choking hurts. And I thirst. And the world invites.

Jesus answered her, All who drink of this water will be thirsty again.

But whoever takes a drink of the water that I will give him shall never, no never, be thirsty any more. But the water that I will give him shall become a spring of water welling up (flowing, bubbling) [continually] within him unto (into, for) eternal life.

The woman said to Him, Sir, give me this water, so that I may never get thirsty nor have to come [continually all the way] here to draw.

John 4:13-15 (Amplified)

I am the woman at the well. I ask. And Jesus draws without vessel, without effort. He simply touches gently. I drink deep and slow. Hot, burning, cleansing tears spring forth and spill over refreshing the arid place.

... and I thirst no more.

Soil of Life

2011-01-29T16:09:00.004-06:00

My hands tilled the soil today. My fingertips buried in the foundation of life. Knees, jean soaked and nails caked with life-giving Earth dust. Rarely have I considered the toiled element. Dirt.

And I consider His Word:

At the time God made Earth and Heaven, before any grasses or shrubs had sprouted from the ground—God hadn't yet sent rain on Earth, nor was there anyone around to work the ground (the whole Earth was watered by underground springs)—God formed Man out of dirt from the ground and blew into his nostrils the breath of life. The Man came alive—a living soul!
Genesis 2:5-7

Love You Forever

2011-01-28T13:13:00.008-06:00

Worship music dims with the ring of the phone. My youngest grown son on the other end.

"How are you today?" I genuinely desire to know. This season's conversations come in snippets of time between his work and classes.

Not, "Doing fine, Mom." Not the voice with high energy of the ADHD, but the croak of, "Can you call the doctor? Not doing great."

I ask about fever, coughs, sore throat, and body aches. "I'm headed to your house now..." And I hear, "No. You don't want to catch this, Mom. Seriously."

... and pictures of bygone days slip into my mind and heart. Rocking fevered hot babies, chicken soup steaming and tea kettles whistling. Washing sweat-saturated sheets. And again, rocking fevered hot child. Never mind he is grown, my arms still long to care. Hands long to wipe the brow.

Still longing, I remember, Love You Forever. A book on the memory shelf. I hold it close, the cover smooth with wear, and I smile. I remember you. Silly book really, but it captures my remembering, yearning, mothering heart.

and I read...

If that great big man was really asleep she picked him up and and rocked him back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. And while she rocked him she sang: I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, as long as I'm living my baby you'll be. ~Love You Forever by Robert Munsch

Breath of God

2011-01-27T08:51:00.000-06:00

Breath. The very source of life in the here, the now, the present. The key to existence in this world. Sighs of contentment, breathless joy of surprise and wonder, and gasps that take our breath away, each fulfill purpose of expression. Breath sustains, this breath gift.

And there is God-breath:

But it is the spirit in a person, the breath of the Almighty, that gives them understanding. Job 32:8 (NIV)

Eyes closed, I inhale deep. Desirous of understanding all that God wills. Like new birth, He breathes life anew.

Awakening

2011-01-26T08:13:00.000-06:00

Morning breaks, sun bursts through and over, filling all the dark places. I race for my camera, a gift from the one I love. I race to capture the moment of breakthrough. Moment of awakening. No time for shoes, so feet bare and tender, cry for covering, But no time. I race into the awakening as I am.

Humble gratitude for awakening, the work of the Son, lifting heavy dew from my soul. It rises, and He tenderly exhales the captivity away. Season anew, fully awake, and grateful on my knees.

But when anything is exposed and reproved by the light, it is made visible and clear; and where everything is visible and clear there is light. Therefore He says, Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall shine (make day dawn) upon you and give you light. Ephesians 5:13-14 (Amplified)

Occasion in Time

2011-01-25T11:20:00.000-06:00

When I woke this morning, urgency moved through my mind.

Time...

Will I have enough time for the to-do list?
Time to provide for my family's needs?
Time to pray...

Occasions of time skewed, flawed in my very human existence.

I drop to my knees to do the one thing I know must be done. I move the torn veil aside and enter the Holy of Holies. He waits for me there. He waits patient there and He smiles. And I kneel there. Imprint of this moment reverent fills to excess, overflows with Agape. True Love. It surpasses time. Lives out of time. Is His time. And is His Way.

For My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways My ways, says the Lord.

For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways and My thoughts than your thoughts.

Isaiah 55:8-9 (Amplified)

"I hear your prayers, My child.
I know the time.
I know the dreams and heart.
I know and
I AM."

Lightly, I brush away an escaping tear.
I raise my hands with outstretched fingertips
covered with captured emotion.
Not a word flows from my open mouth.
I just listen...
And wait.

"I am the Author and Creator of time.
The movement of the clock
holds no boundaries in you,
My precious One.
The countdown of hours is of no value
in a surrendered soul.

My time matters. My time . . .
I AM"

It's Crying Outside

2011-01-24T08:57:00.000-06:00

It's crying outside. Gentle tears cleansing dusty, yellowed blades. Long withered leaves clinging fast surrender their grasp, finally. To fall and join the dry and crumpled chorus below. And waiting. Unaware. Teardrops puddle. Life still, tender in the moment. Colorless grey hugs and hangs over hope.

And I remember... Crying inside. Gentle tears flowing. My forever friend. And God gathers the cleansing, healing, salty hot tears. But you, Abba...

You keep track of all my sorrows.
You have collected all my tears in your bottle.
You have recorded each one in your book.

Ps. 56:8 (NLT)

... My first encourager surrendered her grasp, joining the chorus of loved ones gone before. Yet she remains with me. Notes, letters, photographs. Symbolic earth sisters, Eternal sisters. And hope colors again. Grey lifts. Restoration and renewal!

And here I am. Honoring her encouragement once again. Surrendering my grasp, releasing words. Flowing words... Her long ago words echo - "... praying for you through pivotal changes" - in beloved memory. And I pick up my pen, cry one last tear, and listen to His Calling. Writing obedient.

And God whispers...

As the rain and the snow
come down from heaven,
and do not return to it
without watering the earth
and making it bud and flourish,
so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater,
so is my word that goes out from my mouth:
It will not return to me empty,
but will accomplish what I desire
and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.

Isaiah 55:10-11 (NIV)

Startled by Words

2011-01-23T15:51:00.000-06:00

My heart dances, and I sing through the tips of my fingers, praying it's God's fingerprints that show radiant. ~SW

Morning of Distinction

2011-01-22T08:46:00.000-06:00

Slumber barely opens my eyes. Golden streams of light rush through the blinds. I squint against the abrupt contrast of twilight and sunrise, making it all the harder to fully waken. But sun, glorious sun! I roll to face my husband, whose shoulders stack high and I hide. Just a moment more of shaded rest. But Son! Glorious Son! The pup at my feet begins to stir. She sees it too. Her puppy dreams come to a close. And it beckons us both... Her with her Lhasa hair, dressed and ready to meet the outside. Me, quietly raising flannel over my slumber clothes. Opening blinds as I slip past each seeping window. Adjusting to flooding light, I turn toward the illumination. And I remember the Light. And I lift my eyes, recognize the Son. Give Him thanks for day.

I open the door for and breath is momentarily startled. Once again I adjust. And the pup waits to, unsure of the distinction between the warmth of light and the abrupt chill of air. Glistening like snow, yellow grass barely peeking through a coating of white. Rose bushes, longing, without color, willfully - bravely- stand, waiting for warmth to bring life. All is still. Light offers a glimpse of what will come. Season to season, leaning toward change not yet fully known.

I adjust slowly to the contrast... Light, radiant, glistening, waiting, still anticipating. And I bow to the Son, my Father for this morning of distinction. The beauty of grace-filled life not yet fully awakened. Longing. Whispering grateful. Hallelujah...

Construction Zone

2010-10-27T22:09:00.000-05:00

A season of change is filtering into a brand new concept... Can't wait to see how this blog unfolds...

Tech Break

2010-04-20T22:18:00.001-05:00

Starting this weekend, I’ve quieted my world. An easy hush has filtered into my home. I’ve never realized the impact of social media on the “noise” level in my life. My cell phone jingling and vibrating with messages of friends I follow. And make no mistake—they are friends. Those I follow on my cell phone are those I know personally, and “hearing” their voices through effortless technology, is a good way to keep up—to make sure they’re doing well. And if they aren’t, I’m inclined to pray for them. And likewise.

Yet, starting two days ago, I turned off Twitter (on my cell and computer). And I’ve purposely stayed away from Facebook. Truth be told? With the personal stress of recent weeks, I’ve needed friends with “skin on” not unseen voices through my mobile phone and computer. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve received substantial support—prayer and understanding—from many through the social media venue. And I’m grateful.

Yet I needed to quiet the technology buzz in my mind for a couple of reasons:

1) I needed to cast all my cares on the One who loves me most, and I needed to be able to hear Him.

2) I needed to truly speak to my family and friends—and truly hear them in return.

What did we do before the days of social media? How did we keep up with our friends? How did we meaningfully communicate with one another? Have we lost the art of true communication? And if we have, how can we create a kind of communication balance in our lives?

I don’t have any easy answers. I just know I’m taking a tech break. Not because I’m tired of it. Not because I’m no longer interested. But, because I need quiet for a time. You know, so I can hear the still small voice of my Father God. And so I can be more intentional and personal in my relationships.

It’s time, and I’m ready. It won’t be easy. I’ll miss the techno-banter. But a season of quiet never hurt anyone (at least I don’t believe it has). And who knows? Maybe my computer will serve another purpose in a more precise way. Maybe… I’ll begin my writing journey again.

Maybe…

Lord, Your Way, Your Truth, Your Light. Your Will.

I’m listening…

"Be still and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth." (Ps. 46:10 NIV)

Yes, Lord.

Quiet

2010-04-07T19:26:00.000-05:00

Quiet. I wonder. Are we really listening? Or do we listen for a moment and then wander in the direction of distraction? Are you one of those (like me) who perceive distraction as an invitation to join the cacophony of movement and noise surrounding us? Quiet? I can hardly find that place anymore. And I’d like to, wouldn’t you?
I believe the reason this is on my mind today is because the last two weeks have been so loud. No. Not outwardly so much, though there have been moments of lacked peace. The noise I’m speaking of is inward. My mind has struggled to find quiet. So many needs, so many invitations to fall into distraction, and too much emotion to process at one time. Anything needing accomplishment outside of myself struggles in times like these. I need quiet.
So, like many of you, I choose prayer. I settle in with this verse:

The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing." Zephaniah 3:17 (NIV)

As I ponder Zephaniah 3:17, I discover that He first reminds me that He is my Salvation. He is Salvation to all who would receive His Son. I find my thoughts wandering to those who don’t yet know Him and pray they make the choice to make Him theirs. I meditate on His grace, mercy, and great love for all of His creation and cry out on behalf of those who walk apart from Him.

Next, He takes great delight in me. Pondering this portion of Zephaniah 3:17 catapults me into a more personal connection with my Savior. Wow. Truly I am at a lack for words. He delights in me. He delights in you. How can my distracted mind wander from the knowledge that He delights in me? My mind runs rampant with thoughts of what this could possibly mean.

… yet then

Next, He quiets me with His love—perfect Love. And with this, He has my rapt attention. I love Him right back with praise. I wash His feet with my tears and then rise into His embrace. And as He holds me close to His heart, I lean in as close as I can.

Now, I’m listening. Are you?

Do you hear the sweet sound? The sound of His voice? He is rejoicing over you with song. How tender His words. How sweet His embrace. How gentle His love.

… And I am quiet.

I AM

2010-03-31T14:22:00.000-05:00

And God said to Moses, I AM WHO I AM and WHAT I AM, and I WILL BE WHAT I WILL BE; and He said, You shall say this to the Israelites; I AM has sent me to you!

Exodus 3:14 (Amplified Bible)

I am in awe of Him today. I am in awe of His creation. I am in awe of His relentless love for each individual person. I am in awe of all of it. How does a God who fashioned all of existence through the furthest reaches of galaxies yet unknown to us, find it in Himself to know us and love us intimately? I have no earthly idea. And most likely, that’s the very foundation of my lack of understanding—of God.

He is Spirit. He is Truth. He is Life. He is our Salvation, Redeemer, Counselor, Friend, and Father. Let those truths sink in for a moment. In fact, read them again. Speak each one aloud and thank Him for each individual quality of who He is. Oh, there’s so much more. We know from His Word, He is our Healer, our Banner, our Provider. He loves us with eternal love—one that never fails or changes. His Love—agape—isn’t contingent on our behavior, our works, our looks, our station on life, our successes, our joy, or our brokenness. His Love just is. It just is.

And those are the words that fill my very being today. I cannot adequately express them. My awe overpowers my words. Now how do I translate the awe of knowing—intimately—the God of the Universe into an understandable message to reach those within my scope of influence?

And how do you do the same?

The Ultimate Gift Exchange

2009-11-30T16:52:00.000-06:00

As you know, I've been on hiatus from LINGER for some time now. Nearly six months actually. I apologize to each of you, my friends, as I disappeared without much warning. Truth be told, last Spring, after I shared with you that I would be working on LINGER (the book), I was entering another season of Graves disease, a hyperthyroid autoimmune condition that wreaks havoc with both the mind (no focus, lack of concentration, racing mind etc...) and body. I won't go into further detail, I only ask you to forgive me for not sharing this with you sooner. I'm doing much better, as the thyroid medication is balanced for now. I would appreciate SO MUCH your prayers that I would go into complete remission.

And in the meantime, I offer this as a token of shared faith with you. If you don't know Him... May I introduce you to my Father? And meet His Son, Jesus, the best gift exchange giver of all time...

Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift!

2 Corinthians 9:15 (NIV)

Grace. A gift given by our Lord in the ultimate gift exchange. One man, one life, in exchange for all of humanity’s sake.

Ponder the idea, for a few moments, the process of the “gift exchange.” Normally, when we’re invited to a holiday celebration or gathering, our host asks each of us to bring gifts of a certain equal value. So we joyfully venture into the mass of holiday shoppers and scavenge the aisles for nicest possible treasure within our prearranged price range. When we find just the right one, we wait in line, along with the throngs of weary Christmas shoppers.

And finally, we hear those nostalgic words, “Register number seven is open. Please continue to register number 7.” So, we carry our gift to the appointed clerk (whose bewildered face is telltale of his/her day). Of course, the scanner won’t receive the number on the tag, because the tag is ragged from a tear. It seems our treasure was once in the hands of a careless gift-giver whose change of mind landed the trinket back onto the shelf we found it upon. No wonder our treasure was calling from a shelf full of dry goods rather than a shelf full of similar lovelies.

Suddenly (and loudly), our clerk calls for a price check and what do we do? We duck, of course. Our line has been slowed to a snail’s pace because we didn’t check the complete worth of our gift before slipping into place (it reads, $11.9… and that’s the part that’s missing). Worn out shoppers still waiting behind us, sigh in dread. Their collective groan gives us pause in the middle of our joyful task and we sigh along with them.

Beaten down, we finally emerge from the store with our treasure, wondering if our holiday happiness will ever reappear. Must we start all over again? Or can we catch the season-sentimentality from this point forward—as if it never left? We shut the car door behind us, turn the key and meander out of the crowded parking lot. Maybe some Christmas music will help. Slowly, our seasonal spirit begins to rise in our hearts.

We arrive home and hunt for last season’s Christmas paper (we haven’t had the chance to buy this year’s yet). We hum a holiday tune as we tape the paper closed. No one peeks this year. And we smile in delight as we disguise our handwriting on the gift card. It is a secret after all, right?

The day of our gathering arrives. All is well, our holiday joy firmly in place. Hot cider warms our hands as we wrap them around our Christmas mugs. Songs of “Jingle Bells” and “Let It Snow” fill the room and we mingle with old friends and cheerfully meet new ones.

The process of the gift exchange comes to a close as the celebration ends, and we drive home with new treasures of a certain equal value.

And we do it all over again next year…

Grace. A gift given by our Lord in the ultimate gift exchange. One man, one life, in exchange for all of humanity’s sake.

So different, my Lord, from Your idea of the ultimate gift exchange. You gave Your All… First, You exchanged Your home in Heaven—Your Throne—to be born of a common, yet extraordinary young woman. Her betrothed had not yet known her, as this Child was Your Son. You grew into a gentle man, full of LOVE for hmanity—Your creation. You healed, You loved, You taught, and You asked nothing in return. You only gave. And gave.

And then You GAVE…

You gave for ALL asking nothing in return... for the moment.

Your humanity bled out of Your body as You offered Your life—Your LIFE, so that we may receive eternal life; grace—life with You, forever and ever.

And You seek only our humble lives in return. Hardly of certain equal value. Yet it is all You require. All You desire.

Here it is, LORD. Yes, my life in exchange for Yours. I don’t understand. I never will. But I’m eternally grateful to be able to participate in this gift exchange. Hardly worthy, but just as I am, LORD. All.

LINGER

2009-04-12T23:05:00.000-05:00

As you've probably noticed, I didn't post on LINGER last week. I apologize for that. There is a reason. And it's this...

I'm taking a few week off on the blog to answer to the call of the book, LINGER. That's right, time to take some of your wonderful insight and blend it into the book in production. NOW, just so you know, I do not have a contract on this book, but hope to present the proposal to my agent to pursue one soon.

When I get back to this blog, I will let you know how the project is progressing. Thank you for ALL of your valuable input. I'll email each one of you when I post again in the future.

In the meantime, join me on Twitter - sharenwatson - where I'll keep you posted about Words For The Journey Christian Writers Guild and with all around inspirational stuff :-)

Thank you again for your input thus far... and I look forward to blogging with y'all again soon.

Under His Grace,
Sharen

LINGERing in the Desert

2009-03-30T16:34:00.000-05:00

Can I just say it right now? I'm not a desert dweller. I like trees... and grass... and well, green. That's not to say I don't appreciate the desert. My husband introduced me to the desert in order to meet his parents (and again to announce our engagement). And I've visited many times over the nearly 30 years we've been married. The desert has some qualities I adore... Like the brilliance of the night sky and scape of the dunes.

Yet it is dry. Very dry.

... And sometimes we dwell in the spiritual desert. And it is hard. Our prayers become unfocused. Our hearts become anxious. And we long for a huge spiritual drink. Sometimes, however, we remain thirsty.

Desert experiences are all through the Bible. One of the most notable: the Israelites wandered in one for 40 year before they (the next generation) were allowed to enter the Promised Land. According to Deuteronomy 8:2 (NIV), the Lord led them "all the way in the desert these forty years, to humble you and to test you in order to know what was in your heart, whether or not you would keep his commands." And during this time, He showed them many signs and wonders to encourage their faith in Him. Their clothes didn't even wear out. Can you imagine?

And then there was David. David escaped from Saul, and "stayed in the desert stronghold and in the hills of the Desert of Ziph" Day after day Saul searched for him, but God did not give David into his hands." 1 Samuel 23:14 (NIV). The desert, though physically uncomfortable to live in, was a refuge for David - a safe place. It was in the desert that he won some of his greatest victories, yet wrote some of the most heart wrenching Psalms.

... And then, Jesus. "Then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the desert to be tempted by the devil." Matthew 4:1 (NIV). Our Lord was led into the desert - BY THE SPIRIT - where He was tempted by the Devil for 40 days. That's over a month. In my book, that's a long time. Yet, the victory of Jesus' outcome was nothing less than well... Victorious!

It seems none of the desert experiences in the Bible were pleasant. But read them again. They were faith building. They were safe. And they led to victory.

How do you react when you find yourself in a spiritual desert? How do you LINGER with the Lord? Do you LINGER with Him, or do you isolate yourself from everyone, including Him?

Desert dwelling takes survival skills. And there are necessary items one must have in possession for such a journey. First and foremost, is the Word of God. It's not always easy to concentrate on the Word when you're thirsty, but it is vital. In it, you will find your nourishment. Secondly, you must stay in communication with the Father. The words you would like to speak become few and far between as you listen, but permission is granted to cry out (see David).

What else? Tell me about ways you've learned to LINGER in the deserts of your spiritual journeys. We all need a drink now and then. What better place to offer one...

LINGERing - In the Meantime

2009-03-23T14:20:00.000-05:00

Wait.

No. Don't just wait.

Wait patiently.

Few things in life are more difficult. More frustrating. More exasperating than having to wait. Our society today abhors waiting. Everything is fast. Technology is at our beckon call. Our phones do everything for us. They scan the Internet, call anyone, anywhere, anytime. They keep us connected with social networks; and direct us when we get lost on the road to our desired destination.

Food is in our hands no sooner than we pull up to the little window and hand over our hard-earned money. Gone are the days when we called our children's teachers to make an conference appointment. Everything we need to know about their progress is available for viewing online at the simple entry of a password.

It's a wonder we've run out of patience. I remember paging my husband and waiting for his call (whenever he could get to a landline phone). Now, I call; he answers. Or vice-versa. Instant results in an instant society. Just add water. Stir, and voila! Life without the wait.

And when the Lord calls on us to wait, we cringe. We fidget. We try to fill every waiting moment with some sort of activity. The interim hardly reflects our obedience to ... wait.

Hence our topic for the week. LINGERing in the meantime. There are few things as difficult. Perhaps you never thought about it until now. That's probably because you've not been obedient to the call to stop... and wait. Because it's the hard thing. Understood. But we must realized, it's the RIGHT thing to do.

*Remember guilt and judgment hold no place on this blog. It's a place to share openly. It is my prayerful goal to assist you along your journey - as you assist me - with real life, relevant answers to the challenges of how-to LINGER with our Lord smack in the middle of our hectic lives (maybe better interpreted, lifestyles). AND, more importantly, this is a place to minister to one another with God's Word. He is, after all, our ONLY reason for LINGERing.

So... You've prayed for direction. You're sure you've received an answer. He's leading you to minister, somehow, some way. We are His vessels, open to His use, anywhere, anytime. What that looks like? I have no idea until it happens. One person perhaps, maybe two. Maybe a multitude? It matters not. It's all in His time. It's all according to His will. It's the best way.

Now, what do we do with the call? Or better asked, what do we do in the meantime until the call comes to fruition? Do we just wither away in our constant cries of "when, Lord?" becoming more frustrated than encouraged? Do we focus on the impossibly faraway goal or on the present? Are we willing to keep our meantime filled with LINGERing moments of praise and fellowship as we enjoy - though sometimes simply endure - His process of winnowing the chaff before the harvest is complete?

Do you LINGER patiently? Or do your LINGER anxiously? To answer my own question, I've LINGERED both ways. I can tell you from experience, that LINGERing patiently is the better way. Because it's His way. It is.

How about you?

LINGERing - In The Undone-ness of Life

2009-03-16T18:04:00.001-05:00

During the past 2 1/2 months we've talked about the everyday-ness of LINGERing. We've discussed LINGER interruption, and we've contemplated ways that make the art of LINGERing just a little easier. Our discussion has been frank. What does LINGER look like in the life of the everyday woman? We've LINGERed together with a song by Kari Jobe. (If anyone has missed any of this and you'd like to see where we've been, please go back into the archives of this blog). It's been such joy to share my own journey with you, and I pray that it's been yours as well.

LINGER thus far has been light - full of spiritual Truth, absolutely - but fairly light. But I blame the word LINGER entirely for that. The word LINGER invokes feelings of coziness, warmth, peace, and unlimited time. In fact, some of my own thoughts toward the word LINGER leave me craving a cup of steaming coffee or fragrant tea. It inspires thoughts of a welcoming home, clean and organized. A comfortable throw over my shoulders. And maybe, if it's winter, a crackling fire in the fireplace.

And sometimes, my LINGER time does looks like that. But most of the time, it doesn't. And, you know what? It's okay. In fact, it's perfect when it's just a bit undone. And on the heels of our undone lives, this week begins a new segment of LINGER. A segment that may be a bit unsettling, but necessary if we are to face LINGER moments in REAL life. This part of the journey is not for the faint of heart, but for the faithful of heart.

So much of REAL life is just plain messy. It's painful, it's fearsome and it's grievous. It oftentimes takes us by complete surprise, and not always in a good way. How do we LINGER in the messiness of life? How do we LINGER when hope fails us, when our faith struggles. How do we LINGER in times of injustice, and times of physical pain? How do we LINGER when the economy throws us into financial distress? How do we LINGER when marriages fall apart, when our prodigals move further and further from us - and the Lord?

What happens to LINGERing when life is hard?

Linger - You have HIS permission

2009-03-09T14:11:00.000-05:00

...Do you have your own?

Our days are filled with the constant clamor of responsibilities begging for our attention. Needful things. And we pursue the to-do list with tenacity. Day-after-day, hour-by-hour, our clock ticks down the moments toward each day's end. Is there ever enough time to complete every little thing? I'll venture a guess. No.

Mornings are abuzz with activity - and thought for more activity - and we press through our daily grind, checking off the to-do list with vengeance. Yet when the sky turns dark and our eyelids grow heavy, our minds are still scattered with relics from our day, and strolling into the throne room to meet with the Father is the first thing on our mind that is rarely accomplished.

But ladies, the veil is torn. We have complete access and are free to abide with our Father. Anytime. So, what is it that holds us at arm’s length from Him? Why is it seemingly so difficult to go on into the throne room and hang out there? We have His permission to hang out while we grocery shop, mop floors, and prepare that presentation for the boss. We can hang out in the middle of any activity of the day.

Do we wear the busyness of our everyday, all day, and then expect to clean up good before we attempt to even peek into His domain? And then, will our façade suddenly fall apart, taking on our everyday existence, clearly inferior for lingering in the King’s presence? Who gives us permission to enter, let alone LINGER there?

Daily obligations and responsibility often keep women from lingering in the Throne Room, but it needn't be. We can burst in anytime we want to, and we can simply dwell there, no matter what the day holds.

Again, I ask you... You have HIS permission to LINGER with the King, do you have your own?

To BE, or NOT

2009-03-01T21:49:00.000-06:00

Sometimes Jesus calls us away with Him. He wants our rapt attention. Or He just desires us to simply BE with Him. No agenda, no doing - just BE there. He called His disciples to BE with Him when He prayed in Gethsemane. He called them to come away to a quiet place when they had been spiritually and physically spent (Mark 6:31; NIV).

... and He calls you too. To just BE with Him. No matter what's going on in your life. No matter the good, the bad, the joy or the struggle. He calls you to just BE with Him.

One of my favorite Scriptures-the one that drew me ever closer to the Father's heart-is Song of Solomon 2:10 (NIV):

My lover spoke and said to me,
"Arise, my darling,
my beautiful one, and come with me.

I remember when this portion of Scripture moved me so deeply. The soothing, lovely words personalized God's love and desire for my company. The words fell on my busy heart, soothing it with with His sweet agape. At that point in my life, I had been all about DOING for the Lord, not BEING with Him. In a single moment, He gave me a new awareness. This lesson was sweet; the attention, tender.

Realization of BEING in God's presence took on a brand new meaning. If I DO because He calls me to, I DO with and in His presence - LINGERing. If I just BE, I'm still in His presence - LINGERing. And the same goes for you. Nothing changes.

LINGER in the DOING; and LINGER in the BEING. Both are equally important. Both are vital in relationship with Christ. It is what He desires. It is His good plan. And it is preparation for a grand eternity.

Adoration

2009-02-22T16:40:00.001-06:00

This week, my heart cries out in adoration to our God, our King, our Savior, JESUS! How can I express the praise rising up in my spirit. His presence is overwhelming...

Shall I sing for You, Lord?
Shall I shout for You, Lord?
Shall I throw my hands in the air?
Shall I dance for You - with You, my Prince of Peace?

Do you, at times, feel the same? Overwhelmed with His constant there-ness? I know He never leaves, and yet there are those times when my perception of Him is more acute. Yes, more finely tuned. During those times, I am awestruck by Him. And my desire to express this devotion feels beyond my human capability.

And sometimes I dance...

Yes, you read that right. Sometimes, I dance. I twirl, I curtsy, I stand high on my toes and throw my hands in the air, lifting my head to my Creator. Eyes open, eyes closed, head bowed and sometimes lifted high. I do the best ballet I know - without any formal training.

And once, I performed in public, unbeknownst to me, and to my utter embarrassment. I'll never forget. Only a few months of settling into my new Texas home (the first time around), as was to my custom, I flipped on the worship music - nice and loud. The sun streaming in through uncovered rear windows swayed and dipped along with my pirouetting shadow.

And then, I opened my eyes. Staring back at me were two cable workers accessing my backyard over our rear fence. Construction was everywhere in the neighborhood, and the home being built behind me apparently shared the same wire we used. And since the cable tower resided in my family's backyard, the fact that they were there didn't frighten me. But it certainly startled me.

Even more startled though - I do believe - were the cable guys. I don't thing they had ever beheld such a sight. Though surely more women dance before the Lord on a regular basis? And surely they've seen it before, right? Well, if they had, they were not letting on.

As for me? I blushed, simply waved, and walked into a more private room.

... And the music played.
... And I continued my dance.

What about you? What are some of your favorite postures of praise? And how do you incorporate them into your LINGER time? I'm asking for your transparency here. Your freedom of expression in worship may help set someone else free to do the same.

OH, and one more thing. How do you include family members into your times of worship, especially if you have young children who are home with you on a consistent basis? OR if you live alone, how do you enjoy your LINGER time?

Here is a short-list of a variety of ways I've LINGERED with the Lord (will you add yours?):

1. Simple dialogue
2. Kneeling before Him
3. Dancing
4. Singing
5. Face to the floor
6. Outstretched hands
7. Worship while working (What does this look like in your life?)

I look forward to reading and learning from your LINGER moments. Be blessed this week as you abide with God in your everyday moments.

My Own Worst Saboteur

2009-02-16T14:15:00.000-06:00

This week, I'm going to shift directions - just a little.

Our topic? SABOTAGE.

Specifically? SABOTAGE-ing our LINGER time. Sometimes we are our own worst enemies when it comes to LINGER-ing with our Father. Our deep desire is to pause from the everydayness of our lives to answer God's invitation to LINGER. But can we? Our families require our homemaking skills. Our communities beckon for more and more volunteers. Our careers demand our attention. Our churches appeal to our spiritual gifting. All of these are important; all are worth our time. But what about God?

In the midst of our everyday flurry, our Lord eagerly, yet patiently, awaits our attention. And we yearn for one-on-one moments with Him. More than moments, our hearts are desperate for hours with Him. LINGER reasons with the logic of do and do until in concedes to what needs doing. And again, we are left with our unfulfilled longing for more of Him.

We have once again sabotaged our desire. Yet, He relentlessly continues His pursuit of us. Why? He created us with a bond of eternal proportion. It's not about the here and now - not completely. It's really about then - Eternity.

I have to tell you, I love fairytales. Most specifically, I LOVE the story of Cinderella. I LOVE the happy ending. And I love the romance of it all. However, as I've grown older, I've delved more deeply into the story - in segments - to find the allegory of Christian women today. And I believe I found it.

Cinderella sabotaged her happy ending. Sure, all ended well, however, it could have ended well much more quickly. Cinderella didn't feel worthy of the Prince's forever love - A fairytale paradigm of the present. Cinderella spent only as much time with her prince as was allowed. And then... whoosh! Back to real life. Back to the do-and-do of real life - without her prince. It was only for a moment after all. Just a taste. Not forever.

But back to the ball... Oh how she danced! Free in the arms of her prince. All was well, except the caveat of the clock ticking the hours to minutes, minutes to seconds. Her enjoyment of the ball was immense, yet with the conscious threat of leaving growing closer with each waltz, how much of the prince's attention did she miss?

What do we miss during our times with the Lord when our minds periodically fixate on the do-and-do of our day? Yes, we are enjoying the presence of God. But can it be fuller, richer. Are we missing anything at all - the slightest thing?

Do we sabotage our own time with our Lord? Do I? Do you?

Will you discuss your own experiences of SABOTAGE, as it relates to your LINGER time with the Father?

Why?

2009-02-09T09:15:00.000-06:00

One thought occurs to me this morning. Yes, just one so far because I haven't had my coffee yet. But it is a challenging thought, so before I sip from my favorite mug, I"m going to drink deeply from His cup... because I'm parched. My sweet friends, this week, it's my turn to be transparent with you.

My question for you is this: Why, OH WHY would God have any desire to spend quality time with me?

I know by faith, He wants my attention.

I know by faith, He deeply loves me.

I know by faith, He longs to hear me raise my voice in worship.

I know all this by faith. I hear His voice calling for my presence.

He, our MOST HIGH GOD is relentless in His pursuit of us - of me - of you. By faith, I know this, but WHY? And if we knew the answer to that question, would our Linger time increase? Would it transform?

...My dear sisters, another thought just occurred to me. I'm going to stay real here. And at the risk of being vulnerable, I'm not going to revisit, delete or discredit my questions from above. However, I am going to tell you what I just now, this very moment, heard in my spirit. I pray it profoundly ministers to you, as it just did to me. My parched soul is finding relief as I type these words.

I (We) do NOT need to know, and can't humanly understand the WHY of His desire for me (us). I (We) only need TRUST in knowing He does. The question of WHY now becomes a question of TRUST through faith. In every question above, I interrupted the dialogue with, by faith. And this is something I do know about faith:

Consequently, faith comes from hearing the message, and the message is heard through the word of Christ. Romans 10:17 (NIV)

AS a result of this revelation today, my challenge to you (and me) is this. Will you join me in search of Scriptures that assure us of God's desire of our presence - Scriptures that share His pursuit of us? Let me start with one of my favorite Scriptures of God's attention to me (and you):

The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing. Zephaniah 3:17 (NIV)

I'm so completely blessed by these words - The Word - this morning. Thank you for allowing me to be completely transparent with you. We are, after all, on this life journey together. Let's Linger in fellowship not only with our Lord, but together to encourage one another.

Scriptures?

The Beckoning

2009-01-30T15:47:00.000-06:00

Lush pine, enticing citrus blossoms, heady fragrance of deep florals and fauna. Soft soil beneath His feet. Every step leads Him closer. The Lord. Walking through His creation - the Garden of Eden - during the cool of the day. He beckons for Adam and Eve, His children, to join Him as they had numerous times before.

... Only this time is different, Adam and Eve attempt to hide from the very One who loves them most. Drawn to Him, yet deeply ashamed. Yearning for Him, yet immobilized by their sin. Even so, pure Love in His voice drives them from their hiding place...

... into the arms of Grace.

Do you sometimes feel that way? I mean, why would the God of the Universe call for me? I'm a far, far cry from holy. Shouldn't I change some things in my life before attempting to spend quality time with Him?

Yet, I hear His call. His beckoning. Even in the middle of the mess of who I am, He still desires to LINGER with me. Oh... and how I desire to LINGER with Him. I'm so thirsty. Do you feel Him drawing you too?

Come.

Come my children and listen to me... Ps. 34:11

"Come now, let us reason together," says the Lord..." Isaiah 1:18

"Or else let them come to me for refuge..." Isaiah 27:5

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28

"All that the Father gives me will come to me, and whoever comes to me I will never drive away." John 6:37

Do you hear Him in the rolling thunder? Do you hear Him calling on the gentle breeze? Do you hear Him in the cry of your little one? Do you hear Him in the stillness. Do you hear Him calling you through His Word? Read the above Scriptures above again. Read them as His personal invitation to you.

Come.

How can we respond to Him? The One who loves us beyond our understanding. The Holy One... Abba. Daddy God. How do we respond?

The reality is, most of us live our lives by the pages of a well-worn calendar. So many activities clutter our hours each day. How do we dare even tiptoe into the throne room? Our minds are a jumbled mess of to-do's. It's all about tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll spend time with Him. Tomorrow I'll clear my calendar. Tomorrow I'll be better prepared. Have you noticed that we don't live in the moment anymore?

How do we, as the frazzled women we are, bring Christ into our daily moments - ALL of them? There is the short answer. And that is: He IS in our daily moments. And HE IS. But let's look deeper... How do we consciously connect with His unending, always-open invitation to settle ourselves into the throne room in middle of our chaotic days?

For those of you with young children... How do you LINGER with Him while mothering? Caregivers... how do you LINGER while caring for a loved one/loved ones? Women in the workforce, how do you LINGER with your God in the middle of daily business? How creative are you in finding LINGER moments with God through the grind of each day? Will you share them here? Perhaps your encouraging words will offer an answer to the challenge of lingering for someone perusing this blog today - or tomorrow.

Linger... in Melody

2009-01-25T14:22:00.000-06:00

I can't think of anything better than hanging out with my girlfriends. And is there anything better than Lingering for just a few minutes with our Father - together? Transparent conversation and open hearts. How I thank God for each one of you.

Today, I want us to Linger a little differently here. I know you have the time, or you wouldn't have ventured this way to begin with. The reason I want to use this form of media to Linger this week is because we posted about music as being a source of saturation from the Lord. Would you find time (daily) this week to hit the play button and interact with the message that Kari Jobe brings from the Lord? In fact, listen for glimmers of the Word in the melody she sings.

And Linger...

Are you still thirsty? Or did He fill your cup? Will you share? In fact, will you share each day as He offers something new? I want to read words from your heart. Words He's given you as you as you've Lingered with Him through song.

Day after day, you'll become more acquainted with the lyrics and melody; and you'll find yourself singing easily along. Enjoy, relish, Linger in His presence. Let Him wrap His loving arms around you. It's just a few minutes each day. You can. And I'll join you.

Saturated... The Word of God

2009-01-18T17:24:00.000-06:00

Ladies, your transparent conversation is SOoooo refreshing. I’ve enjoyed every bit of our interaction so far, and can’t wait to read more. Last week, we discussed how interruption, well… interrupts our time with the Lord. Whether the distraction is of our own making, or from some kind of outside influence, interruption interferes with our God time and can be very frustrating.

On the other hand, we heard from a couple of you who talked about interruption as sometimes being orchestrated by the Lord to capture our attention. Certainly, we should be aware that the Lord can and will use any means He chooses to influence us to pursue His will, but how do we listen? How do we define His voice from everyday distraction? How do we listen distinctly for Him when the enemy would like nothing more than to sway our attention from our Father’s voice to his own?

Two words… The Word. Reading God’s love letter to us is one sure way we define the Father’s voice from the enemy’s. But if we are interrupted or distracted from our reading, how can we fill up on the Word? Think outside of the box, pray and allow the Lord to show you new, creative ways to hear and see His Word. And then, will you share your ideas with us? Perhaps you’ve already found an out-of-the-ordinary way to feed on the Word of God. Will you tell us what works for you?

We need His Word for so many reasons. To name just a very few…

· Luke 8:11 The seed is the Word of God.

· John 17:17 His Word is truth.

· Ephesians 6:17 The word of the Spirit which is the Word of God.

· Hebrews 4:12 The Word of God is living and active.

· 1 Peter 1:23 The Word of God is living and enduring.

· 1 John 2:5 In we obey His Word, God’s love is made complete in us.

· Rev. 19:13 His name is the Word of God.

This list is by no means, complete, but it declares the power of the Word, the aliveness of the Word, the Son of God of the Word, Jesus. Tell us, how do you saturate yourself in His Word everyday?

Interruption, 'ruption... What's Your Function?

2009-01-13T16:50:00.000-06:00

Last week’s post, It’s Not Your Mother’s Quiet-Time spurred some healthy and worthy-of-note conversation. If you haven’t had a chance to read last week’s comments, you may want to review our conversation. And ladies… conversation through this blog network is exactly what I’m hoping for. My desire is that we will all interact according to the topic of each week.

And BRAVO for the first couple of weeks You’ve done well. I love the way each of you presented your comments. Authenticity is so important to a topic like Linger. Some of you (and you know who you are J) desperately wanted to plunge into the weeks ahead; and even though I SO wanted to go there with you, I restrained my dancing fingertips to slow the progress – just a little.

Alright, now that the Linger blog-stage has been set, it’s time for us to tackle a topic we can all relate to…. INTERRUPTION. As you read this post, will you ponder the interruptions of your own life? And think about ways you weave your course of conversation with the Lord through one disruption after another. Do you hit the pause button – tell the Father you’ll be right back? Or does it dawn on you, later in the day, that you left the conversation somewhere between “Good morning, Lord and AMEN?

Interruption is typically reserved for two-way dialogue or interaction with others, and over the course of life, all of us have experienced it in one way or another—more times than we can count. Whether we’re listening to the Lord through reading His Word or making a conscious effort to be still, waiting for His voice during prayer, we almost always face interruption. Sometimes it comes from an outside source, in the form of another person, activity or distraction, demanding or grabbing our attention. And other times, it is internal, such as our internal thoughts chasing a bunny-trail smack in the middle of our time with the Lord.

Will you share some of your own personal experiences of interruption? Did you recognize it when it happened and take 10 from time with the Lord? Or did you seemingly just drift from your one-on-one with Him into another activity or thought process?

Here’s just one (of many) of my experiences:

One of my favorite times to pray is right before I sleep. I love to conversing with the Lord during the last quiet moments before slumber. Some of these times have been most precious to me. Other times, slumber comes before I utter AMEN. And sometimes, I’m really praying for something close to my heart, yet even so, my eyes become a natural barrier between awake and asleep. In this particular case, sleep becomes the interruption, robbing me of listening - stealing my words at the end of the day.

Granted, it takes discipline to pray while physically exhausted (and in bed), but it’s become habit. I enjoy sharing my day and last minute requests with the Father before I doze. Sometimes I get to AMEN; sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I’m frustrated with my lack of discipline to finish; other times, I simply welcome the rest.

I know there are many more interruption experiences, and mine barely begins to touch on the wide scope of them. Share yours?

Flight Delay...

2009-01-13T08:54:00.001-06:00

Due to travels these past four days, Linger will be updated this evening (Tuesday) for the week of January 12. I apologize for the delay, and am looking forward to your input on the topic of:

Interruption... What's Your Function?

See you all tonight...

Sharen

Warning: It's NOT Your Mother's Quiet-Time

2009-01-03T23:38:00.001-06:00

I remember giving my life to the Lord - I was 14 years old. A nudge from a friend sitting next to me and my heart already stirring with anticipation, set my legs into motion, carrying me from my seat to the altar. I'll never forget that night, which led to my pursuit of God and all things "church." If the youth church doors were open, I was there. If youth camp was happening, you guessed it, I was there. I LOVED church then, and I still do.

My ECYs-early church years-were filled with brand new Biblical and Christian lifestyle concepts; and I couldn't get enough of Bible study or worship. My discovery of Christ overwhelmed me in a wonderful way, so I pursued a deeper relationship with the One I called my Savior, and I still do.

Through core groups (small groups for teens), I pledged to spend an hour each day with the Bible and my Lord, not just at church, but at home. Wow. I moved through the rest of my teen years full of guilt with a pledge for the most part unkept. Accomplished on the days I set aside my hour, yet self-condemned on the days I didn't, I felt like a failure, mediocre at best in my walk with Christ - and sometimes, I still do.

Do you?

Years later, I'm a far-cry from that teenage girl, but the challenge of quiet-time in the "spend-an- hour-in-prayer-and-Bible-reading-everyday" sense, still haunts me on occasion. Especially when the day has sped by and I'm jolted from near dozing by the thought of, I missed my hour with the Lord today. I breathe a prayer, asking God to please forgive me. And again, sometimes, I still do.

Ladies, transparent conversation starts here and now. Will you share your feelings authentically? Do you feel guilty for missed time with the Lord? What is it that keeps you from quiet-time? Work? Family? How do you feel when the day whisks by and you haven't had a moment, let alone a full hour, to be still before God - with Him. Do you feel like you've neglected an obligation? How do you move beyond that? Do you? Or do you tell yourself you'll start over and tomorrow you'll do better?

First and foremost, as the foundation for Linger is laid, my intention is not to make you feel guilty or condemn you for misuse of your daily time. No one can do that, and His Word declares why:

"Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit of life set me free from the law of sin and death."

Romans 8:1-2 (NIV)

Girls, this is just the beginning of our journey. And where best to start, but at the very beginning of a challenge. Take a look at the above questions again. Will you join me in sharing your thoughts and experiences? For the sake of our journey, we're not looking for answers to our dilemma - yet. I believe we will first be encouraged by knowing we're not the only ones, but that we all struggle when it comes to our mother's version of quiet-time. And my prayer is that through our upcoming weeks - months - together, we will find it is easier to Linger with our Savior, constantly and consistently.

Here we go...

Introducing LINGER... A Fresh Concept for a New Year

2009-01-01T11:00:00.000-06:00

2009.

A New Year.

A Brand New Blog.

And a subject I am most passionate about - Abiding in God's presence.

Constantly.

Consistently.

But what does that really look like, especially in the midst of a woman's chaotic life? This is the question I will endeavor to practically and creatively address together with you. Girls, our lives may look completely different, but I guarantee each of us struggles with the balancing act of our daily routines. Lingering conversation and devotions with God are often some of the first things cast aside, reserved for more reverent times - quieter times.

Need it be so?

Oh ladies, I can hardly wait to begin seeking His presence more fully with you. Will you join me in discovering what quiet-time really is, and how we can enjoy God's presence in ways we may have never considered?

As a desired participant, you are most welcome to comment freely with your own experiences and stories. In fact, I encourage your feedback. This blog is the humble beginnings of a book I'm currently preparing and if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to possibly include your thoughts in the text - with your permission, of course. But before that - for now - I'm ready begin our journey into The Art of Lingering. Are you? Oh, I pray so...

It's a good year for a new concept. And always a good year for Lingering with the Father.