Archive for the 'Soul Food' Category
June 19, 2008 @ 2:15 pm | Filed under: Soul Food
WHEN I SAY I AM A CHRISTIAN
“A woman’s heart should be so hidden in Christ
that a man should have to seek Him first to find her.”
When I say… “I am a Christian” I’m not shouting “I’m clean living.’”
I’m whispering “I was lost, Now I’m found and forgiven.”
When I say… “I am a Christian” I don’t speak of this with pride.
I’m confessing that I stumble and need Christ to be my guide.
When I say… “I am a Christian” I’m not trying to be strong.
I’m professing that I’m weak and need His strength to carry on.
When I say… “I am a Christian” I’m not bragging of success.
I’m admitting I have failed and need God to clean my mess.
When I say… “I am a Christian” I’m not claiming to be perfect,
My flaws are far too visible but, God believes I am worth it.
When I say… “I am a Christian” I still feel the sting of pain.
I have my share of heartaches, so I call upon His name.
When I say… “I am a Christian” I’m not holier than thou.
I’m just a simple sinner Who received God’s good grace, somehow!
- Maya Angelou
Maya Angelou, poetry, When I Say I am a Christian
June 8, 2008 @ 6:48 am | Filed under: Motherhood, Soul Food, The Writing Life
Every once in a while a door of opportunity will swing open wide, and we know for certain that it is God who is bidding us to walk through it.
This is what happened to me when Faith Lifts invited me to be one of their devotional contributors a couple of weeks ago. The people that I’ve met so far - Shera and the other writers - are nothing short of warm and welcoming. Already I feel at home, and very excited about this very special place!
As a writer, this is an opportunity to share bits and pieces of what God lays on my heart. As a mom, this is a place to find needed encouragement and strength. But - maybe most importantly - as a woman, Faith Lifts is a place where godly women are endeavoring to hear His voice and allowing Him to direct their lives and the lives of their families.
My first devotion with Faith Lifts is up today. If you find time to check it out, please linger a bit longer and read the words of wisdom and encouragement that other Faith Lifts writers have on their hearts.
I promise you’ll leave uplifted!
June 2, 2008 @ 1:24 pm | Filed under: Soul Food, The Solid Rock, Uniquely Me
When I was raising my boys, one nightly tradition was spending the last few minutes of each day reading to them. One of their favorite stories, and still one of mine, was If You Give a Mouse a Cookie.
If you give a mouse a cookie, he’ll probably ask for a glass of milk. If you give him a glass of milk, he’ll probably ask for a straw. If you give him a straw, he’ll most likely need a napkin.
On and on the story goes, taking the mouse through various household chores and activities until finally - spent and exhausted - the mouse takes a nap. When he wakes from the nap - sure enough - he’s hungry and…you got it…he asks for a cookie.
Some days are like that, one activity begatting the next, and so on and so on and so on.
I had a day like that a couple of weeks ago.
I had been looking forward all that week to sleeping in on Saturday, whatever that means for me. Lately I’ve been running on about five or six hours of sleep each night and - after a long and tiring week - I thought the idea of sleeping until 7:30 or eight sounded really good.
Instead I woke at around 5:30 and lay there, wide awake, until I finally eased from the bed and made my way through the sleeping house to the living room. Something deep within me was stirring, something that made me acutely aware of just what a blessed day it was.
The week had been long, it had been tiring, but I’d not only made it through, I’d made it through with the deep-seated knowledge that God was directing my footsteps and my actions; easing me slowly but surely through the long list of to-do’s and must-do’s until all the projects, all my work, and all the kid drama - everything was not only done, but done well.
I sat with my coffee and spent quiet time with Him - so thankful, so grateful, for His mercy and strength. The quietness and solitude of the room around me seemed to reflect the quietness of my spirit and it all felt so good.
At the tail end of a week where I’d spent energy like money and had run the gamut of emotions in dealing with life’s craziness I simply sat in my living room and reveled in the secure certainty that I am a God’s girl.
At the end of my quiet time I attempted to go online, only to find that our internet was down. And that’s when the if you give the girl her God type of a day really began. Feeling energized and close to Him, I prepared a full, nutritious breakfast.
Well-fed and feeling healthy, I went for my run. I felt so good after two and a half miles that I ran for four.
As I walked the last block home, I found myself studying all the neighbors’ yards, realizing that my schedule had not allowed me the flexibility to spend any amount of time on my own flower beds.
I saw Mike out with the lawn mower as I walked the last few steps to our house, and that clinched it for me. Already sweaty and slighty grubby from my run (even the tip of my pony tail was dripping) I decided to stay in my running skirt and get busy in the dirt.
And the day was officially started…
One by one, each activity seemed to only prompt the next. I spent hour after hour taking care of the things around the house that I’d let fall by the wayside in the full-on sprint that always comes at the end of another school year. When the day turned to night, I collapsed in the same spot as I’d spent my quiet time that morning. Somewhat tired again, but fulfilled.
Again I was quiet and reflective. Again I was filled with thankfulness for His care of me. Again I was very much aware of His mercy at work in my life.
On my own I am so weak. On my own I falter and question and - sometimes - whine.
On my own, I am just a woman. ONE woman.
I can only give so much as a friend. I can only instruct so much as a mother. I can only succeed so much as a student and as a writer.
I can only do so much.
But with Him…with Him all things are possible.
I may very well be a woman on the cusp of her midlife years.
But I very much feel like a little girl running into the arms of her God.
If you give a girl her God, she can do most anything.
faith, flower beds, God's girl
May 29, 2008 @ 12:36 pm | Filed under: Soul Food
grace: unmerited divine assistance given humans for their regeneration or sanctification b: a virtue coming from God c: a state of sanctification enjoyed through divine grace
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I can’t get away from it this morning.
I woke up with these words, a space of grace, trailing again and again across my mind. I wanted to write about something entirely different here this morning, but the right words for that post are just too elusive. And so I’m giving in to the words that are here, and I’m exploring them.
I’ve always known these spots existed, these spaces of grace, but I’ve never had reason to put a name or a description to what they were, or what they meant to my life. They are these “pockets of time” in our spiritual journey when we experience moments so filled with His power that we are literally enabled to do what we could not do before.
Things seem to both, accelerate and slow at the same time. Oftentimes our learning, our talents, and our abilities will seem to be fastracked during these periods even while our observations, our reflections, and our times of meditation are slowed and filled with enormous amounts of clarity.
For some, these may be the times when they capture the vision of what they have to offer to the world around them, and they go for it. For others, these moments may be where they find strength to see their way out of temptations, and do. For still others, it is a time of discovering their voice, their passion, their ability to lead, and they step out in faith.
A space of grace is when we find ourselves in that holy place where heaven touches earth and we happen to be standing in the middle of it.
I saw a billboard a few weeks back that simply read, touching heaven, changing lives. That’s what this life is truly about, whether that life that becomes changed is someone else’s or our own.
For me, many of these times have meant moments of ‘lightbulb revelations’ - times when His word suddenly became real to me in ways that I’d either not understood before, or simply not seen before. It is during these times that I soak up, absorb, crave…more, more, more of Him. It is always a time of thankfulness, a time of rejuvenation, a time of a lot less struggle and a lot more energy.
Sometimes these pockets of time last days, sometimes months. To be honest, when the day would eventually come that I would realize that once more I seemed to be deep in the mire and muck that is daily life I would feel a bit of disappointment in myself.
I think - even though until now I’ve not taken the time to analyze these times - I thought that I had somehow brought myself to that spot with God. That my own spirituality had somehow merited me this favored time with Him. So if I’d brought myself to this special place, then it would only stand to reason that it would be ME who took myself away from it, who brought about the end of something so precious, so sacred.
Thinking about that this morning, I feel silly. But I also feel a deep joy bubbling in my soul that just cannot be unseated.
These times - these spaces of grace - are rest stops for our soul. I picture it as though I’m on a trip, a long journey, and I pull over to the side of the road. Not necessarily for a rest, or a drink, or a bite to eat. Maybe I pull over to take out the map, look back over the miles already traveled and plan and dream and anticipate the exciting stops that lie on my horizon.
It’s a time of planning and reflection, a time to dump out the trash and fuel up with all things good. It’s a time to look back on the road behind and see - maybe for the first time in a long while - just how far along on this journey that you are, and it’s a time to look ahead, knowing now from experience that the sights, the scenery, the people might move and change or even dissipate.
But not His great love. Not His direction. Never His grace.
I’m thankful this morning for spaces of grace.
May 18, 2008 @ 4:38 pm | Filed under: Soul Food
Our worship leader was commenting during last night’s service about old hymns, such as Amazing Grace and others like it.
He said he often wondered what the inspiration behind these songs that have withstood the test of time was.
His words made me think of this clip that I received from someone last week.
Enjoy! I hope it inspires you as much as it did me.
amazing grace, black keys, Wintley Phipps
April 29, 2008 @ 2:02 pm | Filed under: Pure Sunshine, Soul Food
I wish I could bottle days like yesterday and save them for weeks when it has rained one too many days, or when outside temperatures are simply too hot to handle. Yesterday was about as close to perfect as weather gets around here. And - since this part of Texas has only about 4.5 days like this one - I did my best to soak it all up and tried hard to not stay holed up in my office.
Normally, by this time each year, I’ve already planted flowers and have even managed to kill off a few of the weaker, unhealthier ones. I’m sure plants in all the metroplex nurseries are breathing a huge sigh of relief, thinking that I must have forgotten planting season this year and that they are, surely, most safe.
But yesterday was the day. On Saturday I had turned the beds, tilled the soil, and added fresh mulch. Days like yesterday make me forget about my penchant for horticulture homicides. I walked the aisles of the nursery and carefully picked out the heartiest varieties that I could find, in the brightest and cheeriest colors that I could find.
Back home, with my hands and knees in the dirt, I found myself feeling such peace and a sense of well-being. I am somewhat of an eternal optimist, I guess. The flower bed in front of me was not that much unlike the flower bed of my life. Sometimes the things and people that I nurture in my life don’t do so well. I do my best to water and to nourish and to encourage and to care for them. But sometimes maybe it’s my timing, or my lack of understanding of the real needs, or maybe it’s just the climate around us - but sometimes these buds within my care begin to wilt or turn brown or fade.
What has always amazed me about plants is their ability to bounce back when focused care is placed on them. Water them at the roots, remove the weeds whose own mission is to entangle and destroy, and nourish them with vitamins. And then the real miracle - proper exposure to the sun. The sun melds all of the care and the result is beauty.
It’s not always a quick work. Sometimes it takes days of dedication and devotion and consistent care. Sometimes the results are not quite what we expected; sometimes they even exceed our expectations. Beauty in nature - there is nothing quite like it.
I think about my kids and my friends and the many people that I love and care for. I do my best to provide what they need to flourish and do well, but sometimes I get busy and I miss things. Sometimes I think I’m doing a fairly good job of caring for them, only to realize that some missing nutrients are causing them to wilt before my very eyes.
These are the times when that focused care is most important, I guess. Real heart-to-heart conversations, time spent just hanging together, listening… And then the real miracle - proper exposure to The Son. He melds all of the care that we put into the people we love and the result is beauty.
It’s not always a quick work, and I’m having to remind myself of this quite often these days. Sometimes it takes a lot of dedication, and devotion, and care that is not always the easiest to give. My hope - my prayer - is that the results that will eventually be garnered will NOT be quite what I’m expecting.
I have faith that they will be even better than what my mind can imagine.
Beauty in the people we care about - there is NOTHING better.
April 9, 2008 @ 2:15 pm | Filed under: Soul Food, Uniquely Me
I’ve been thinking quite a lot about strength lately.
Strength comes in all shapes, forms, and sizes. Sometimes it is expected and then, sometimes, it simply catches you unaware.
I know that I am strong, even if certain days have me doubting it.
I am strong willed. I have strong faith. I am strong-minded, strong-tempered. I have strong passions. I love strongly.
Knowing that I am strong and yet still being painfully aware of some vulnerable spots has me thinking a lot today about the various kinds of strengths and what they mean.
I think of my grandmother. If ever there was a strong woman, it is Mama. Without a doubt. These past few months have been among the very first times that her children have seen her cry.
I’ve watched her these past six months or so and have seen the strong woman I know her to be now housed in such a frail, unstable condition. I’ve witnessed her reaching out to Dad (my grandfather), her partner of 65 years, and not being afraid to say that she wanted him close, that his hand felt so good enclosed over hers. I saw the looks that passed between them and, in that moment, so much became ultra clear to me.
While she has always been so strong - so in control - he has been her backbone, her rock, silently supporting her strong nature. These past few months - during these moments of uncertainty and fear - he has emerged openly as the hero that only she has known all these years. He has ridden in and been a true (though untraditional) knight, caring for her in the most gentle, caring way possible.
So even strong women need a safe place to land their hearts.
And then I’ve observed Auntie lately. On some days she is so uncharacteristically quiet and somber, as she has quietly tended to her sister’s bedside. My mind goes back to a few months ago when I sat across the table from her. We had just finished a meal and were merely sitting, chatting, much like any aunt and niece might do.
“I come from a family of strong women.” I looked at her and nodded for emphasis. “I only hope that I can be half as strong as you and Mama.”
I did not expect her response, and the look in her eyes and the weight of her words are forever carved into my mind.
“We’re not always as strong as we seem.” Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears and her lips trembled as she spoke the words. “Sometimes it’s the strong ones who hurt the most.”
I remember feeling my heart break as I looked at her and realized that I had never taken the time to look past that wall of strength. The very wall that had her taking care of others even as she walked through the darkest storm of her life. The strength she exuded had somehow excluded her from being human, from having the same hurts, troubles, and lapses that we all have.
So even strong women need to let down their walls every so often.
I’ve observed my mom these last months as she moved about Mama’s hospital room, rearranging her pillows and helping her sip Coke through a straw. I watched as she took lotion and carefully, lovingly, massaged Mama’s feet. The love was evident with each stroke of her hand and I had to look away, overcome with emotion for both of these women.
I know my mom better than most. I know that her tired eyes and sharp words are merely visible signs of a battle going on deep inside her. The battle to somehow balance the need to be the daughter and the need to be the caretaker. She is on the very cusp of one day in the not so distant future being the matriarch of our family. I watch as she ministers to her own mother, disregarding her own needs and her own health.
I don’t think she realizes it yet, but she’s walking in the footsteps of some very strong women. And - with every step she takes - she is becoming a woman of admirable strength. A woman that I’m very proud - very honored - to call my mom.
So even strong women struggle to find balance in their lives.
Finally, my mind goes to my mother-in-law, the precious mother of my Mike. I didn’t come to know this woman until her twilight years but it was immediately apparent to me that her gentle compassionate spirit and her graciousness are her own personal strengths.
I sat in her tiny living room not long ago, sharing a pot of coffee and perusing a basket of pictures, listening as she talked about her sisters and their recent out-of-state trip together. I glanced around her living quarters, marveling at how concisely a lifetime worth of memories was crammed into this tiny space.
Pictures of the father-in-law I was never fortunate enough to meet, momentos of the one, once-in-a-lifetime cruise they took together, a photo of her eldest son, whose life ended at the young age of only nineteen. A pain no mother should ever have to endure. And yet - though life has been anything but gentle to her at times, she has risen above her circumstances and is truly one of the happiest, most genuine people I know.
So strong women take the blows from this life and then rise above them.
Today I sit here with a full heart, knowing only these things for sure:
Strong women need a safe place to land their hearts.
Strong women need to let their walls down every once in a while.
Strong women still struggle to find the balance in their lives.
Strong women rise above the winds of this life.
I still don’t have the balance totally right in my own life. I may spend this lifetime trying to get it right, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t glean even more strength in the process. To love and be loved, to give just because it pleases you to please others. To find grace and dignity amid your own faults and shortcomings. To care enough about yourself and about those you love to keep trying.
That is strength.
That is what I want.
April 1, 2008 @ 9:57 am | Filed under: Soul Food
A carrot, an egg, and a cup of coffee…
You will never look at a cup of coffee the same way again.
A young woman went to her mother and told her about her life and how things were so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up, She was tired of fighting and struggling. It seemed as one problem was solved, a new one arose.
Her mother took her to the kitchen. She filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire. Soon the pots came to boil. In the first she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and in the last she placed ground coffee beans. She let them sit and boil; without saying a word.
In about twenty minutes she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl . Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl. Turning to her daughter, she asked, “Tell me what you see.” “Carrots, eggs, and coffee,” she replied.Her mother brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they were soft. The mother then asked the daughter to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard boiled egg.
Finally, the mother asked the daughter to sip the coffee. The daughter smiled as she tasted its rich aroma. The daughter then asked, “What does it mean, Mother?”
Her mother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity: boiling water. Each reacted differently. The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak. The egg had been fragile … Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior, but after sitting through the boiling water, its inside became hardened.
The ground coffee beans were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water, they had changed the water.“Which are you?” she asked her daughter. “When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?”
Think of this: Which am I?
Am I the carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity do I wilt and become soft and lose my strength?
Am I the egg that starts with a malleable heart, but changes with the heat? Did I have a fluid spirit, but after a death, a breakup, a financial hardship or some other trial, have I become hardened and stiff? Does my shell look the same, but on the inside am I bitter and tough with a stiff spirit and hardened heart? Or am I like the coffee bean?The bean actually changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavor. If you are like the bean, when things are at their worst, you get better and change the situation around you. When the hour is the darkest and trials are their greatest, do you elevate yourself to another level? How do you handle adversity?
Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?
The happiest of people don’t necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the most of everything that comes along their way. The brightest future will always be based on a forgotten past; you can’t go forward in life until you let go of your past failures and heartaches.
March 30, 2008 @ 11:17 am | Filed under: Soul Food, The Solid Rock, Uniquely Me
It comes down to this: God’s best is available only to those who sacrifice, or who are willing to sacrifice, the MERELY GOOD. If we are satisfied with good health, responsible children, enjoyable marriages, close friendships, interesting jobs, and successful ministries, we will never hunger for God’s best. We will never worship. I’ve come to believe that only broken people truly worship. Unbroken people - happy folks who enjoy their blessings more than the Blesser - say thanks to God the way a shopper thanks a clerk.” —LARRY CRABB
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I don’t think of myself as a broken woman.
But I do think that once we’ve experienced a true winter of the soul - once we’ve fallen one too many times, once we’ve desperately clung to sanity by a mere shoestring, once we’ve felt the pain of life shattering about us - we are never the same again.
I wouldn’t want to be the same.
I am whole today and, in that wholeness, I am confident, self-assured, and rest entirely in Him. But that wholeness does not hide the scars that my years of brokenness left in their wake.
Instead those very scars serve as daily reminders that I am incomplete and undone on my own.
I never intend to try life on my very own again. Any strength I may have, any gift I may have to offer, is only because of His far-reaching grace and His fathomless love for me.
It’s one thing to trust God in innocence, long before anything bad has ever happened to you.
It’s one thing to trust God theoretically, but yet still attempt to handle the tough stuff on your own.
It’s one thing to trust God in good times, when health, and prosperity, and the richness of relationships make your life a pleasant place in which to lie down.
But once you’ve fallen into a chasm and have been lovingly and heroically rescued, you begin to develop a new trust that’s like no other.
It’s an absolute confidence in His love and in His ability to intervene supernaturally in your life.
It’s not until you’ve experienced a winter of the soul that you learn once and for all the warmth of His arms and the gentle touch of His hands as He begins to bind the wounds and heal the hurt.
The brokenness is gone, but the scars remain behind.
They are all that is left after the harsh, unrelenting winter of the soul. They are the purple hearts of the spiritual battlefields.
If we are courageous enough, and if we can corral our pride enough, these scars have the power to be ongoing testimonies of the heroic rescue of our soul.
I’m not broken.
But I am scarred.
More and more every day I am becoming okay with this.
More and more every day I am wanting to let the wounded, hurting women I encounter know about the Great Rescuer.
God can do a lot with brokenness. He can do a lot with pain. But He can really do very little with our good Christian woman facades.
He wants us to be real.
He wants us to be honest, with Him and with each other.
He wants to bring springtime to souls who’ve fallen prisoner to winter.
He wants to take our brokenness and turn it into beauty.
March 27, 2008 @ 3:01 pm | Filed under: Mary & Martha Project, Soul Food, Uniquely Me
“Biblical encouragement is soul work. God unleashes its mysterious power every time a child of God follows the Holy Spirit’s direction and steps into the suffering of another person…As children of God, we have every tool we need to mend broken hearts and lives. So instead of isolating ourselves in a self-made cocoon of protection, we need to find out what those tools are, learn how to use them, and get to work.”
—SHARON W. BETTERS, Treasures of Encouragement: Women Helping Women in the Church
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“Wait a minute…” Darlene paused and looked at me. “You write, don’t you?”
I nodded, too overcome with emotion to do much more than mutter that, yes, I did indeed write.
She pointed to the large, cracked pottery vase she cradled in her arms and then motioned to the many more on the shelf behind her. “There’s a story here somewhere, don’t you think?”
Oh yes.
If she only knew…
Just minutes before, we’d come upstairs to discuss the details of my new volunteer duties at Coventry. I’d already taken the downstairs tour and had seen both, the gift shop where the finished products were sold to the community and the work and production area where these special needs young adults were gaining pride and ownership as they learned the craft of pottery.
The work that is produced here is phenomenal, to say the least. To realize the special hands and hearts behind it all makes it priceless. By the end of the downstairs tour, and meeting each of the day residents and the other staff and volunteers, I already felt a sense of belonging. If I hadn’t been sure beforehand, I was more than sure of it now.
Volunteering one day a week at Coventry was my own personal ‘next step’ of the Mary & Martha Project. In ways that not even I truly comprehend yet, I’m doing my best to follow His prompting.
God, isn’t this whole project about finding balance - about somehow reconciling our inner Marys and Marthas?
Initially I wasn’t at all convinced that adding one more thing to my already overflowing calendar was a good thing, let alone the right thing.
It was over a period of a few weeks that I slowly came to realize that I’d been looking at it all wrong.
“It’s not about the quantity of work (read: service) you’re doing, it’s about the quality.” His reprimand was gentle, but it struck a cord deep within me.
Sometimes in our urgency to “be salt and light” we get so busy doing that we miss the opportunity to truly touch. To truly affect a life and leave it changed for the better.
For me, it was time to let some of my “busyness” fall to the side. It was time to get outside of myself (and outside of my comfort zone) and into my community and touch a life. Or two. Or more.
After spending the better part of an hour with these kids and with the people who so obviously love and care for them, I went upstairs with Darlene, touched and excited to be a part of this.
I immediately spotted an absolutely gorgeous vase that had obviously been glazed and fired and now stood alone on a shelf.
I commented on the beauty of the piece. She reached for it and placed it between us. Pointing to the tiniest hairline crack in the side seam of the vase, she smiled and spoke the words.
“See? We can’t put this one in the gift shop. It’s broken, but beautiful.”
Something inside of me pulled up short and I caught my breath.
“I simply can’t throw these out.” Darlene went on. “I bring the cracked ones up here and find other uses for them. They’re still beautiful, don’t you think? They may not be able to hold water, but they’ll be perfect for another purpose.”
Broken, but beautiful.
Those were the very words God had placed on my heart so many months ago for our ladies. Like those pottery vases and pots, we all stand before God with cracks. Some more severe than others. Some may even be damaged to the point where “they can’t hold water.”
But that only means that holding water is not their purpose in life.
They’ll be perfect for another purpose.
“Wait a minute…you’re a writer, aren’t you?”
I am a writer.
“There’s a story here somewhere, don’t you think?”
There is definitely a story.
My God is in the process of telling it to us all.
