Anticipation, Wonder, and All that Is Right in the World

I sipped coffee from my new favorite perch on our kitchen table this morning  My legs swung free as I delighted in the view outside our large picture window. 

Well, it mostly delighted me. 

While a soft snow covers most of our back yard, I'd hoped for a plethora of thick flakes to hide the ground. There's enough to remind me of the fun I had yesterday as large snowflakes fell. But nighttime rain and sleet damaged our southern winter wonder land. 

Our marsh mellow world melted too soon. 

Home alone when the afternoon snow began to fall, I dressed in layers and bundled in blankets on our front covered porch. I didn't want to build a snowman, but I sure enjoyed watching as snowflakes dotted the sky and turned everything white.Waiting for the storm and then watching it unveil filled me with childlike anticipation, akin to what I feel on Christmas Eve.



For even a light dusting calms our southern lives and forces a slower pace. Neighbors walk outdoors. Schedules are ignored. And our world pulls away from the frenzied norm. 






 

A few weeks ago I felt God ask, "Can you simply live as a satisfied sick person?"

I'd been reading my Beth Moore Bible study when the thought grabbed hold. While I dabble in several creative outlets and keep a full enough schedule, physical limits demand rest. A simple grocery store run requires planning and recovery. Thoughts of a vacation or conference or night out at a concert prove more exhausting than fun. 

I've written about this before. My struggle to accept life as it is now verses what it was ten years ago. 

So the question stopped my flow: Can I live satisfied as a sick person? Can I let go of dreams and goals and enjoy each day, every student I teach, my cottage home in the woods, and the people who make it feel like home? Fully satisfied?

As I sat on our outdoor swing yesterday, watching the snow fall with an overflowing heart, I knew the answer: "Yes, Lord. I will live satisfied, right here, right now, basking in the wonder of your world and creation and all that is beautiful about life."

Don't worry. I haven't become a bona fide Pollyanna. I'm still quite aware that there are horrific things happening in the world right this very minute; atrocious acts we can't truly fathom.

But when snow fell in the south and a holy hush calmed the norm, wonder came easy. Anticipation led to acceptance. And if I'll keep living in that place of acceptance, everything can remain right in my world. Not always easy. But definitely right.








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Washed by the Water

I discovered a peaceful perch last week when issues surfaced, requiring hard conversations and vulnerability. Not long before Don and I left to meet with ones we hold dear, I sat on the end of our kitchen table, as close to the picture window as I could, and swung my legs like a little girl.

After filling my favorite cup with coffee this morning, I wondered where to enjoy its warmth. Since weathermen had predicted snow at one point this weekend, I opted for my new perch on the table. With my nose almost touching the glass, I stared at the dismal grey sky, hoping for a wintry mix.

It didn't even rain.

 But I enjoyed swinging my legs like a school girl, transforming my table into a place of childlike wonder, where trust comes easy and nerves calm. 

The view from my perch.

While the Bible clearly states that truth sets us free, facing said truth can stir the deepest kind of emotion. Especially when different perspectives bring different truths to the same issue. I'm not trying to go all fifty shades of grey here. But to heal from relational pain, one must often step out of their perception and consider another's point of view. 

Grievous wrongs exist. Most certainly. And they require divine grace to forgive. 

But offenses often occur through misunderstanding and lack of information. When we step out of our personal fortress and leave behind our arsenal of self protection, hard conversations can change and heal our wounded hearts.

Our blended family has gone through a lot in the last eight years. I like to think we've all been climbing the same mountain from different sides. The views, while similar, have been varied. But we're arriving at a plateau high above the clouds, finding the same vantage point.

And it's good. 






The climb has challenged me to the core. And there have been times I wanted to give up. To turn back. Seriously. My legs tire on level paths, let alone mountainous inclines.

But the view from where I stand today takes my breath away. Because I'm all the more in awe of God's mysterious plan and purpose in the climb. 


He needed me stronger. More pliable, surrendered, and trusting. I've got a lot more to learn. So perhaps I'll drink more coffee on my perch, swinging my legs like a child. 

"And he said, 'I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven, Therefore whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.'"


When family strife was ripe a few years ago and my tears wouldn't stop one Friday night, my youngest son walked in. I explained the recent issue and told him to go over to my sister's to hang out with his cousins; that I would be OK after a good cry. 


Before he left, he told me I needed to hear a song. I listened to it over and over that night, amazed at the timely lyrics. The music played in my head again this week. All through Thursday night and into the morning. 

I left early Friday, still singing the chorus, and ten minutes down the road felt an inner nudge to listen to music. Instead of playing a CD, I turned on the radio - a very rare choice for me - and after about ten seconds of talk, this very song began to play. 

My favorite part?

"Even when the rain comes. Even when the flood starts rising. Even when the storms come. I am washed by the water."

At the end of the day, I'm fairly certain Jesus said we must humble ourselves like children so we can accept a washing from the storm and His purpose in painful climbs with greater ease. Adult rational demands much. A childlike heart accepts with surrender.





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Living in the Light instead of Fifty Shades of Grey

 My dad emailed me an article this week you coffee lovers should read:

Science Confirms: The More Coffee You Drink, The Longer You Will Live


 After several long days, I indulged in twice my normal allotment yesterday. The afternoon brew fired up my brain enough to teach a two hour make up lesson. But not enough to focus for words.

It's been a big week. Have you noticed?

ISIS offered the world the opportunity to see a Jordanian pilot burned alive. Morning networks celebrated the upcoming release of 50 Shades of Grey, a film akin to porn. A trusted news anchor was forced to apologize for fabricating stories for no other reason than to increase his ratings and notoriety.

Violence at its worse. Twisted sexual impropriety in mainstream theaters. Lies presented as truth for self gain. All of it the result of the evil in this world vying for the very essence of our souls. 

Not only must we sift through the daily barrage of news, there's endless commentary to add to the confusion. No matter what side of an argument you land on, you can find a host of blogs, news reports, and editorials, supporting your view. 

So where is truth? How do we hold on to truth when we live in a society that would rather conjure up good stories than maintain character?

Living as if fifty shades of grey don't cloud our existence is naive. And I'm not even referring to just the book. When we approach life as if black and white truths can blur into fifty shades of grey, we walk in a dense fog, unable to see what's really going on around us. 







I'm guilty. I get lost in my own haze, wearied by constant battle and distracted by worries and fears that hinder focus on what matters most. Because the world has gone mad. It has been for a long time.

But there remains a truth worth fighting for in the depths of our souls.

"See I lay a stone in Zion, a chosen and precious cornerstone, and the one who trusts in him will never be put to shame." (1 Peter 2: 6)

It takes effort to swim upstream; to shine with distinct color in a world of grey; to believe in something holy and reverent, when all else is blurred.

"But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light." (1 Peter 2: 9)



Sue mentioned their choir is singing Sanctus this Sunday at the beginning of our Thursday lesson. Since we spent the majority of our time focused on the piece they deemed more difficult, I didn't even look at the music until our time was almost over. 

A familiar rush swept through me when I realized it was Gounod's Sanctus and I insisted we run through the song at least once. There's just something holy about the piece. I performed it under the direction of Robert Shaw almost twenty years ago now. And I still can barely make it through the end without tears. As the song builds, it carries me to a divine place and I'll dare to assert I might even feel a little of what Isaiah recorded:
 
"In the year King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord seated on a throne, high and exalted and the train of his robe filled the temple. Above him were seraphs, each with six wings: With two wings they covered their faces, with two they covered their feet, and with two they were flying. And they were calling to one another:

 'Holy, holy, holy is the Lord Almighty; the whole earth is full of his glory.'

At the sound of their voices the doorposts and thresholds shook and the temple was filled with smoke.

'Woe to me,' I cried. 'I am a man of unclean lips,and I live among a people of unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the King, the Lord Almighty.'"

Isaiah was overcome in the presence of the Lord. As this week ends and others being, I'm challenged to live with similar heightened awareness and genuine reverence. Maybe it's just one less TV crime show or praying at times instead of distracting myself with candy crush. 

He is holy and worthy, the only one true light in this world of fifty shades of greys. Remember. Press in. Step away from all that distracts. And dwell in His holiness. 

Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus,
Holy, Holy, Holy,
  Dominus Deus Sabaoth.
Lord God of Hosts.
 Pleni sunt coeli et terra gloria tua.
Full are heaven and earth of glory thy.
 Hosanna in excelsis.
Hosanna in highest.







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