Saturday, December 24, 2011

catch


Fill in the blanks. Repeat the sounding _ _ _.

No worries, you'll quickly figure it out.

It's been a week, as they say. 

A catch in my throat as my dad and I walked through the parking garage. The realization that all these years walking together, whether physically or spiritually, are drawing to a temporary end.

A catch in my heart as I heard sharp words with listening ears and spirit. The power of life and death is in the tongue.

A catch, an ache, in my grasping hands, so unwilling at times to let go of my desires and let God - what? Catch me in His strong arms.

In this, the season of _ _ _, sadness.

But then... Running late for work, right in front of me as I stopped at the corner - this. I turned and drove away. I was late, after all. (How often do I turn from the joy in front of me?) I turned the car around and went back. Joy.
 And then... Buying a few gifts at the busy shopping mall, taking the bag from the sales clerk... and there it is again! Joy.
That evening, I sat and began browsing through a magazine. OK, now this is really getting obvious. Seriously? In a Special K advertisement? Joy.

 A smack in the face, WHAT WILL YOU gain WHEN YOU LOSE? What good will it be for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul?, my friend had said that very morning.  (Mt. 16:26)
 What will help you let go of this particular desire? she asked.

I'll write a letter to God, I answered, and seal it up in an envelope as a tangible reminder that I am giving it to Him and even if I have to carry it around from room to room, I will!

I wrote the letter. It's a messy letter, full of emotion and cries for help. That makes it a psalm of sorts, honest, raw, up-and-down. I spend far too much time trying to hide the fact that I'm naked in front of God, clothing myself with I'm (okay, strong, competent) when I AM sees right through me. (And loves me anyway? The Bible tells me so.)

The letter is boxed and gift-wrapped. There is a lot of tape involved (my usual modus operandi with gifts). In this case, strangely symbolic - don't pick at it, don't peek - leave it in His world-creating hands. Then, a sense that I needed to adorn it. With a tissue paper flower. I don't remember making tissue paper flowers before, so off to the computer (what did we do without eHow?) - and here it is:
My husband said, "Ooh! What is it?" When I explained, he asked when I would open it. When the situation resolves, I said. But now, I realize that the answer is - when God tells me it's okay to unwrap it.

Several times I woke during the night, obsession about the situation poking hard at my mind, this desire that I placed in God's hands. Instead, I pictured the box holding my dream, wrapped tight and sealed. In God's hands. No, I gave this to God, I thought. And returned to sleep.

It's a tangled mess these blog-thoughts. The message? If I cling too hard to "gain", I lose. I grasp fearfully (my will be done). The result? Exhaustion, discouragement, desperation.

The signs this week have pointed to joy. Your will, not mine. (Luke 22:42) The path to joy.

Jesus, for the joy set before Him, endured the cross... (Hebrews 12:2)

Joy to the world, the Lord is come...

Repeat the sounding joy,
Repeat the sounding joy
Repeat, repeat the sounding joy.

As I pray for Your will, God, may I catch joy - and be contagious!

Saturday, December 17, 2011

Old vs New

I've reverted, because there are some times that old-tech beats new. Don't get me wrong, I'm the www.biblegateway.com girl - any translation, any language, search engines. Instantaneous sharing on Twitter, Facebook, e-mail and who knows what else!

Yet - it can't compare to the weight of a book held, feel of leather cover, rustle of pages turned, and slowing my pace.

The box was on the front porch yesterday when I got home. I was puzzled because I didn't remember ordering anything from Baker Book House. A phone conversation with my mom clarified things - without giving anything away, she said, it was something that was on my Christmas list that she wanted to do for me. Well, who can wait for Christmas, anyway?


Old versus new. I have Bibles - I'm actually kind of a collector - but desired a fresh start. My well-worn NIV study Bible is marked - physically with pen, markers and the occasional coffee or tear stain. It is also marked spiritually, the dates in margins map my journey peak to valley to peak... I love that Bible, but set it aside because of its many notes from my first marriage. Desperate prayers for salvation of a stubborn, wounded man. Anguished prayers for a marriage that could not be saved.  The wounds stopped bleeding and scarred over; I don't want to open them again.

Long into this happy, no-longer-new second marriage, I want to stay on the journey looking forward, not back. Fresh, NIV Study Bible pages will take me deeper into wholeness. God is the God of new creation, as II Corinthians 5:17 tells me. "Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come; The old has gone, the new is here!" God is the one Who writes my story, Who is my future and hope. New pages, a story that God continues to write on my heart.

And what I really want for Christmas is this: to leave this Bible with my mom when I see her later today. To have her inscribe it to me in her still-beautiful handwriting. To have her mark her favorite places as a reminder that God intersected us here on earth as mother and daughter, and that He has joined us for all eternity as His children. For we both:

"Know that the Lord is God.
It is He who made us, and we are His;
we are His people, the sheep of His pasture."

Saturday, December 3, 2011

joy

He said he saw it on me when he walked into the room. Joy.

He later asked me where it came from, this joy.

It was perhaps an unusual place to see joy. On a cold, dark December evening, I sat close to her bed, my mother-in-law's hospice bed. She knew me this time, and asked about my knitting and whether my mother was a knitter. And did I have enough light to see by?

A spark of joy, because of her knowing.

"I love you," she said. Sweeter because this time, I was sure that it was me she loved, and that I was not some anonymous kind person visiting her.

Joy. Being known. Being loved.

So I spoke to him my rambling thoughts about joy, how God gave me a bubbling brook of joy for three days after my salvation. Joy was not my nature. Never, not even as a child, could I have been described as joyful. So joy came as a gift from God.

I told him about loving the Word of God and the freedom of knowing the truth and being set free. Of knowing the Truth, Jesus. And I described as best I could, for it is indescribable, the entering in to God's presence as I play the piano. Heart to heart, spirit to Spirit. Wrapped together, inseparable.

So that is also joy. Joy comes as a gift from God.

Being known, being loved. Not for what I do or say or think. Simply for being.

And as I sit with my mother-in-law in her room - where she no longer does but is, I see this: She is not afraid to die. Joy will come as a gift of God, even in the hard place of waiting to die.

May I live with this word held closely as I walk daily with the Living Word.

Joy.