Thoughts of Thanksgiving

Life is swirling, dancing, and flittering all around me.  It leaps, it stills, it rests, and it then it flurries again, in a sometimes maddening, but always beautiful, orchestrated and pre-measured routine.  Sometimes, I just hold my breath, jump on, and live it.  At other times, I take a turn on the assistant conductors stand, and wave my arms around in patterns of conductors joy. And then there are the times of sweet and blessed bliss where I just simply relax, rejoice and rest as it passes all around me.

All of these are different seasons and colors of life.  Each has made an appearance on this weekend of Thanks and Thanksgiving.  On Wednesday as parents arrive from a far journey, I am blessed by hugs of love and excitement to see them again.  They have a few more joyous life lines and maybe some more gray hairs.  And with mom...the eyes are dimming a bit.  Lord, keep her safe.  Hold her tight.  Let her always know and love you, and let her feel safe in your love.  Dad needs a bit of help too Father.  He's trying so hard to live life,  take good care of Mom.  Bless him with extra patience, extra strength and love and wisdom beyond his years.  Wrap your arms around him and love him with your exorbitant and fierce love so that he knows you are always there.  In the dark, in the confusion, shine your Light Father.

The scene changes and in bounce beautiful daughter and handsome son.  Oh Father, what a precious gift to see them again.  Early August is a long time.  With them, life is leaping, twittering, dancing.  Both are weary and need a little time to relax and rest.  What a joy to see them, to hold them, to hear them laugh, and see their eyes dance.  Eyes you have given Father.  And eyes that you shine through.  Father, please bless their studies.  Bless their travels.  Bless their decisions, their relationships, their life choices.  Bless their finals and their grades.  And bring them safely home for Christmas again Lord, so I can snuggle and hold them tight.  You are so good Father.  You have blessed me so richly.

Thursday brought a feast!  With eleven thankful souls gathered round our table Lord, you made my heart swell.  I know that this is a time of living, of soaking in, or memories to cherish.  I look at faces and see life.  Joy.  Excitement.  Expectance.  Blessings.  Memories.  Sweet times.  Thank you Father.  I do not deserve the richness that you continue to heap upon my head.  But Father, it is so good, and so You, and I am so grateful for these times.

Friday Lord.  Oh Friday.  On Friday, after three years, you brought the promise of a new son.  Daughter number two, became engaged to her beloved.  Young love.  Grounded in You.  On Your Word.  On Your Promises.  Lord, they have sought you.  Been obedient to You.  And to her father.  Lord, may you heap blessings upon their heads all of their lives.  May they too experience life to it's fullest, with more blessings than their heart can hold.

On Saturday, precious children sang and practiced lines as a got to stand on the assistant conductors stage Lord.  Father, I know you are in charge.  I rejoice in the fact that they're preparing to tell the story of your birth.  May you be glorified in their lives and in their stories.  That evening, the entire family made an outing to the theater.  As the lights went down, and the actors took the stage, I found myself in tears, as I reflected on the eleven of us, in a row, all enjoying the magic of the excitement of life.  La Chaim!

Precious Son-in-Love and Daughter number One have joined in for almost every step of the dance this weekend.  What true joy to have them here.  To see their strength.  To watch their example.  From drivers, to ping-pong players, to Pictionary Partners, they have been there.  Thank you for these part of their season Lord.  Bless and keep them too Lord.

And then, on Sunday, I got to join in with my family and friends Lord around the alter to worship.  Precious One...You are so good to me.  The afternoon nap was needed Lord.  And the Christmas tree tonight is simply the glittering icing on the cake.

Swirling.  Dancing.  Flittering. Leaping.  Resting.  Flurrying.  Father, give me eyes that ever see You.  That ever seek You.  Give me Your heart Lord.  And thank you for keeping me in the dance.

Bountifully Blessesd

Warmth.  Fullness.  Safety.  Joy.  As I reflect this month on a season of Thanksgiving, and count my many blessings, I am often reminded that I count the big things, and sometimes the little things...but what about the abstract things.  The things that are so extremely important, but that I cannot touch.

If I lived in sections of New York or New Jersey right now, after the recent storm...or Haiti, or Kenya, or Nigeria...those things might seem more real to me.  When I crawl from under the warm covers into my warm house..am I really grateful?  When I eat to my stomach's content, and then put leftovers in my too full refrigerator, do I understand anything about lack of fullness?  When I lock my doors, and go safely to my bed, do I wonder if someone should keep watch over my house tonight?  And if in fact, I did not have these things, or did not feel these things, would I, in the midst of want, find Joy?

I live in the richest nation in the world.  Even if I were the poorest of the poor, I would still be rich in comparison to a large percentage of the world.  Do I understand this though?  I have a house, with working heat.  And the money to keep it working.  I have two pantries, two refrigerators and a freezer.  I lock my doors, pet my dog good night, and trust that police will be on patrol, and all will be well.  I should be rejoicing and full of joy at all of this....  if I lived in New York or New Jersey or any of the third world countries..I would be.

We were without power for three days a few weeks ago.  When it came back on, I was joyful that I could flush the toilets, and turn on the lights and open the refrigerator.  I really savored the hot shower!  And while I was not joy-less without it, I might have begun to get a bit grumpy had the trend continued.

Perhaps, I am not looking for my joy in the right places.  Perhaps, my joy should come from my relationship with my Father.  Perhaps, He gives joy to the people in Haiti, and Nigeria and Kenya.....without flushing toilets...or running water...or power at times.

Scripture tells me that to whom much has been given, much is expected.  I think I can pretty easily say that I fit into the "much has been given" group.  And I'm guessing that you can honestly say that too.  Even if you don't want to.

So, in counting my blessings...perhaps I should look deeper...and up.  Perhaps the fact that my Father delights in me; that He knows every hair on my head; that He has a plan for me that is better than any I could imagine; that He is the Star Maker, and the Life Giver and the Joy Maker...should matter just a little bit more to poor little spoiled and pampered me....

Perhaps...I should count it all Joy....but in a way that is much less tangible and touchable...in a way that requires me to focus on Him and not me.

I have a feeling that when I do, that my joy will abound.  And that it will flow out of my like a well, bubbling over, and blessing others in my pathway.  In fact, I can just about promise it.  Because He promises it.  For me.  And for you.  When we seek Him with all of our heart, soul and mind, then and only then, will we be wildly, immeasurably and abundantly blessed.  That's true Joy.

I'm so glad I'm a daughter of the King.  <3

In the Quiet

The wind whistles around my house, giving it a "whirring" caress.  The family is all off in different directions.  Faithful dog lies beside me, always protecting, always being my companion.  Independent feline lies just above me, on the sofa back, to "be" with me, on her terms.  And I listen.  

All I hear is the sounds of whirling wind, and nothing more.  I know there is snow swirling, because I saw it with my own delighted eyes this afternoon.  But now, in the dark, and the quiet, I am just sitting in my noise-less cocoon.  And thinking.

Father, do I get too busy to listen for you sometimes?  Do I miss what you are trying to say to me because I have more sounds around than necessary?  I know that when I do that, sometimes, I become anxious over things that I have not been called to be anxious over.  But I do it any way.  Sitting here, listening to almost silence, I hear you calling.  I hear you telling me that you have it all under control and that I can rest in you.  Why do I let myself ever get away from that Lord?  Why do I choose my own answers and my own solutions, and all of the clamor that goes with that.

I fear it has to do with my lack of trust in your Lord.  I dread the thought that that is true, but as it tumbles around in my small mind, I see truth in it.  I say I trust in you.  I believe that I trust in you.  But then, when things are broken, I go around, in all of my own power and strength, spinning up whirlwinds of my own, trying to make it all right.

Father, teach me to trust you.  To look for the quiet, and to turn my attentions purely toward you.  Remind me to make the time to focus on you, and you alone.  In the quiet.  In my quiet.  In Your quiet.  Lord, bring me to the Quiet, and meet me there. 

It was the month before Christmas....

As I survey my surroundings, I find myself in total amazement.  Sun glistening on the pond.  Tree sparkling with twinkling lights.  Faithful dog lying at my feet.  Senior son off to conquer the SAT.  The seasons of life.

Christmas brings to me a season of gratefulness, joy, and reflection.  When I ponder that my God would humble Himself to come in the form of a babe....to be born in a barn....Who am I?  The God of the entire Universe came in the lowliest of forms....to be born to die....for me.  HE desires relationship with...me.

The world is not always black and white.  I want it to be.  I need it to be.  Yet, in my small, tiny, miniscule relationship with the Creator of the Universe, He reminds me that He has a plan.  Better than my own.  Greater than my own.  And that His plan takes everything into account, so that I don't have to worry when it all doesn't seem to "fit".

Soverign God is in control.  He has it covered.  Wow.  I can rest.  I don't need to worry.  Nor do I need to attempt to control everything.  He's got it under control.  And He's got me covered.  I love to think of God's hands.  In my mind, He can cradle me in one hand, and cover me with the other.  In the palm of His hands, nothing can touch me nor reach me that He does not allow to.  Amazing.

And then there's this grace thing.  Do you really understand grace?  I know I don't.  Yet, the little bits of me that do...are simply bowed over by the idea that He's waiting on me, for me, in spite of me.  He wants me to turn from my wicked ways...daily...and cry out to Him.  Abba Father.  I need you.  I want you.  I'm broken.  I need your forgiveness....at which point, He pulls me close, and wipes my tears and says..."enter in my child, you are mine...I've got you covered...by My grace you were saved...nothing you have ever done, or ever will do, is good enough to save you...yet, because you cry out to Me....you are mine."   Wow.  Wow.  Amazing.  Grace.  For a sinner such as me.....or you...

This season of life finds me celebrating my Saviors birthday.  My Grace-Giver's birthday.  My Abba Father has a birthday about to be marked...and the entire world knows about it...and most of them are going to have a party in celebration.  As I plan the party preparations, I must plan focus on my Party Guest.  Jesus Christ, the One who desire relationship with broken, pitiful, sinful me...is having a birthday...   What in the world is going to be my gift for Him?

Seasons of Life

When I grow up...what shall I be?  The thought still swirls in my mind from time to time.  Psychologists would say that I have the "Imposter Syndrome".  After all, I will be fifty next month.  I have birthed five children, seen two graduate from college, and even married one off this summer.

Sweet Son-in-love is so good to Married Daughter.  I watch them as they find their rhythm and pace together in life.  Young professionals, working hard, as they go from "me" to "we".  They are in a new season.

Daring Daughter number two is working in a professional job as well.  Third shift.  As I try to support her in all of her strange hours, packing lunches, making sure she's up...I entertain the thought of doing what she is doing, for myself.  When I grow up.

Precious daughter three is a freshman this year.  In college.  How DID that occur.  It's an amazing school.  Perhaps, when I grow up, I might be lucky enough to go there as well!  They really seem to be turning out some people with strong character and exceptional skills.

Sensitive son is a Senior.  Working.  Driving.  Applying to college.  Is this some mistake?

And my baby...can he really be fifteen?  Hmm...I remember when I taught him to ride a bike.  And how he talked ALL the time in the car, whether I listened or not.  He now stands two heads taller than me.

Well...when I close the chapter on this season...what shall I do?  Or, perhaps, this season never closes, only morphs and changes.  Perhaps, I will always be their Mother Unit.  Perhaps, they will always need hugs. Or listening ears.  Or care packages!  Or someone to cheer them on.  To tell them how proud I am of them.

Perhaps, in time...they will need a babysitter.

My head sports a few gray hairs.  Not many, thanks to my stylist!  My body creaks a bit more than it once did.  And my parents are growing...tired...and needing support.

If I don't grow up...but perhaps...I am growing up.  In the middle of two generations.  Parenting on both sides.  The seasons are changing.  But perhaps, just in color.  Perhaps...they never totally change, but just like my hair..they sport new hues and new styles.  But they still work together to make One. 

 I still may need to figure out what to be...when I DO grow up.

Small Gifts

Ah...February.  The holidays have come and gone.  The decorations all packed away.  The company has ceased to come.  Coldness and grayness finds it's way into my home, and if I am not watchful, into my heart.

I'm learning a new trade.  It's called counting the small things.

The warmth that is billowing out of the wood stove.  The warm snuggly feeling under my bed-covers.  The sweet joy of holding a cup of hot liquid in my mouth a little bit longer.

Snuggling on the sofa with sweet hubby and precious teen-person.  The mouth watering aroma of home-baked bread.  Beauty of falling snow.  Earths' quietness under that fresh crisp blanket.

Another book read, just for pleasure!  A warm pot of soup simmering on the stove.  The satisfaction of knowing I made it myself.  The joy of glimpsing sun-beams streaming though.  

Clearance Sales at my favorite stores!  New recipes and time to try them.  A fun movie, and a favored one to see it with.  Extra time to sit with my Father.

A card tucked in the mail to a loved one.  A friend, calling to say "hello".  A "getting-married" daughter sharing excitement over a favorite cake topper.  The pretty colors on a favorite mug.

Small things.  But oh so big.  Blessings that I don't make time to count in the busy seasons.  One's that somehow, I just overlook.  Like they are not even there.  Yet, ...huge things.  Ones that some would so desire to change places with me for.

Father, teach me to count my blessings.  To name them, one by one.  So that I may find joy in my heart.  In the things that You have so richly blessed me with.  And that I may pass your joy and your thankfulness on to the fellow travelers in my journey.

Thank you so much for the small things.

Saturday Morning Blessings

I'm sitting in my quiet, wood-stove warmed living room this morning; in my snuggly new flannel pj's, with the sun streaming through all of the  windows, and the earth outside blanketed with a coat of freshly fallen snow.  The trees are all clothed in fresh, pure, ivory splendor, and as I look around, I feel like that this is a frozen moment in time.  Does it get any better than this?

My faithful and loving husband is still sleeping quietly in bed.  My five blessings are all home today to.  Father, how did I become so favored to get to this place in life?  Why did You choose to bless me, so very abundantly.  As I sit here, contemplating these questions,  I do hear the house beginning to stir.  I know that as it awakens, and people join in, things will get more hurried.  People will become more harried.  Yet, this year, my attitude has become that of joy.  I find joy in the fact that I am able to be too many places, and do too many things.  I find joy that I am able to join in this dance.  I choose joy.  And it is a choice.  For, when I might feel stressed or harried, if I allow my mind even a moment to say..."what is the alternative?"  ...to not be involved....to not have people depending on me...to not have things to do....to not have people to care about, love, take care of and mentor....  That sounds like a place I would never choose to be.  And so, in the quiet of this morning, before life begins in full swing, I relish a few minutes of quiet before the dance of life becomes a full waltz..  Because I have been given much, and much is expected of me.  So therefore, I choose to dance this dance called life.  With arms open wide, and head held high, as I savor these moments, and dance with the many people the Lord has placed in my path.  I shall laugh, and smile, and enjoy what I have been given.  For it is precious beyond measure, and truly a priceless treasure.

Off to put on my dancing shoes.