Take the high road.
Trust God.
Category: God
I thought only death, broken appliances and bad news came in threes.
Maybe I was wrong, maybe good news triples up too…
First off, last week Looking for God made a short list at the online Christian magazine and community, The High Calling. Along with nine other posts, my Why I Like Blue Jeans made it into Great Posts from Around the High Calling Network. This is a big honor and one I keep jumping around the house about! The High Calling community consists of 1,800 bloggers, an editorial staff and top-notch articles and resources for Christians looking for God in their “work, family and broader culture.” Pop in, be blessed and if you blog, do join.
Secondly, I’ve been invited to work temporarily for a previous employer, First Presbyterian of Maple Plain. I served almost three years there as an administrative assistant and am looking forward to serving again. Clerical skills brush-up, great staff moments and serving God’s people with pencil-in-hand are some of the things I’m most excited about.
Most recently, I’ve been nominated for the Versatile Blogger Award by Jonathan at 237blessed. I am thrilled and honored to receive this peer-to-peer nomination! Jonathan “loves the spirit” of Looking for God and says it has “something truly important to declare concerning the Kingdom of Heaven.” It doesn’t get any better than that! Thank you so much, Jonathan!
At 237blessed, Jonathan brings hope and blessing through his use of Scripture, spiritual insight and sensitivity to the Spirit. If you desire a blessing or want to hear from God, visit 237blessed. Grateful I get to be your Sister, Jonathan, and your blog friend.
Of course, with nominations there are rules…
THE RULES TO FOLLOW FOR THE VERSATILE BLOGGER AWARD:
1. Add a picture of the award to your blog post.
2. Thank the blogger who nominated you and include a link to their blog.
3. Share 7 random facts about yourself.
4. Nominate 15 other Bloggers and inform those 15 they have been nominated.
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Seven random facts about me
1. Cemeteries are cool.
2. I read, write and never spit.
3. Some people call me charismatic, others contemplative.
4. I say “Woosh” too often, people wonder.
5. My 1992 Honda has 223,000 miles on it.
6. I suffer most when I can’t find Jesus.
7. Migraines come and go, but God is forever.
The nominees are, in no particular order:
1.Quirky, compelling and insightful, Nori takes you into her life and lets you sit awhile at Rambling on Regardless. Lucky me, I’ve slogged through bogs, danced in a kitchen and savored raspberry chocolate with Eleanor. She’s a keeper I call friend.
2. Joyce at Joyce de Vivre has a knack for creating Christian community and has created Featured Scribbles to foster Christian blog community. Tireless and passionate, she reminds me to stay rooted and reach high.
3. A-Musing is a newly birthed blog written by an old family friend. Jim shares his heart and always points to Jesus. Glad I get to share him here with you.
4. Bernie at Daily Light uses Scripture, practical insight and prayers to bless his readers. His devotions help me lean a little longer on my Lord. I’ve studied, prayed and joked with Bernie. He’s a Brother I call friend.
5. Brother James came to Looking for God with encouragement and profound presence. When he’s around I breathe easier. His site, Domini Canes, is beautiful and his words never fail to make me pause and reflect. A new blog friend I sense kinship with.
6. A dear old blog friend who once spent hours interpreting one of my dreams, Cindy at Anyone’s Guess write wonderful poetry and prose and is soon to have a baby. Her heart is fixed on Jesus, and that means everything.
7. Another long-time blog friend who nominated me for the Sweet Friend Award, blogs at So Much, So Little Time. Kate is, among a few dozen other things, a devoted Catholic, a prolific writer and a published author. Oh, and she just gave birth to her fourth child.
8. Dan at The-Fatalistic-Smile writes deep, mythic poetry that rattles your unconscious and steals your heart. Back in 2010 he guest blogged here, at Looking for God: Into the forest he wanders. He’s a wise soul who has been known to climb rock walls, even with me.
9. Claire is a stay-at-home-mother and blogger from New Zealand. Her One Passion One Devotion says it all. She’s all about one thing and one thing only. More times than not, I leave her site lifted, closer to God.
10. Lizy, at Follow Lizy, is on adventure in Glasgow. She’s a brilliant writer who takes you with her and makes you smile. For a sure-to-delight-you peek into Scottish university life from the perspective of a college student from my home church, stop in and stay a spell.
11. New to the blog scene and fresh to my world, forthefrustratedchristian give me encouragement and helps realign me when I’m ready to scream. Thank you and welcome Sid!
12. Estherlou at Estherlou’s Blog has been around the block and is refreshingly herself. She also runs a bakery and sometimes posts photos that makes mouths water. As a new blog friend, I look forward to getting to know her better.
13. Antigone’s Clamor is well written, often takes a stand and makes you think. Sometimes I find myself cheering. Lara has a way with words and loves her Lord. Visit and see.
14. Jocelyn at Celine is a Filipino living in the U.S. who is sold out for Christ. She’s a bright light in a dark world and helps keep my head where it belongs, in the heart of God. She’s a blog friend who gives great encouragement.
15. Jessica at booshy makes the mundane delightful and humorous. She’s got dogs, runs marathons, oh and she’s about to give birth to her first child. Never a dull moment by a gifted writer. Glad to call her a long-time blog friend.
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Those are my three and they all happened in one week! As I look for God, I see Him everywhere! Thanks for your presence, prayers and praise. May God bless you because…
Like this:
As Christmas crashes in, it is tempting to sideline the point.
So, to promote focus and smiles, here is a very old tale told by very young souls.
A timeless story as told long ago…
(To watch, follow the video’s prompt to click through to youtube or click on the link below.)
If you cannot view, visit http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3ZUFE6kt2kA
Title is a quote taken from The Bells of St Mary’s (1945, Leo McCarey)
Like this:
A repost for those who like blue jeans…
I threw out an old pair of Levi’s yesterday. Into our bedroom’s small, green trash can I stuffed them. Faded blue was white, frayed edges hung low, loose threads here and there. Even so, not worthy of trash, I thought…but then the hole just below the back pocket, that forced the issue. I don’t mind wearing worn jeans, but “holes in questionable places” jeans just aren’t me. So, these dear old friends are quickly becoming landfill tenants.
By and large, what I wear matters little to me–any of you who know me, know it’s true. A quick glance through my closet would horrify any fashion consultant. Most of what I own was given as a gift or as a hand-me-down. I hate shopping for clothes, so tend to go with what is on hand: sweaters from the 90′s, turtlenecks rescued from our teenaged son’s trash, dresses from my great aunt’s cast-offs, items dubbed “did you get that from Laura*?” by my teenaged daughter. Not so with jeans, though. No one can successfully bestow jeans on me, my body shape sneers at anyone who thinks they can…
So, I’m forced to shop. And, for me, shopping for jeans is an arduous task fraught with peril at every clothing rack. Different cuts, sizes and colors overwhelm my psyche and trigger a primal instinct for flight to the nearest exit. The thought of a wall of denim gives me a certified case of the creeps. Guaranteed is umpteen trips to the dressing room, therefore abundant amounts of unhurried time is required; all limbs must be in good working order for the dressing room workout; and shopping friends must remain scarce (I don’t want to know WHAT you think. This is a private matter between me and the mirror–thank you very much!)
My relationship with blue jeans is a personal one…one that began long, long ago… Levi’s and I reach all the way back to my twelfth birthday when I received my first pair of jeans (thank you Aunt Sharry!). After ripping the gift open and squealing with delight, I ran to the bathroom, wriggled into them as fast as I could and bolted back for family viewing. They all agreed: they fit well, except for the waist where they hung a bit big and at the bottom where Aunt Sharry quickly folded a cuff. Once a belt was in place, I looked great and oh, so grown up. Finally, I’d moved from polyester to denim–twas a big deal for my tween self!
I wore them often and eventually broke them in (for young whipper snappers: back in the old days new jeans were stiff and unyielding, requiring time, washing and bending before one could move without discomfort–I’m not kidding!). They served me well, til puberty kicked into high and they couldn’t hold me anymore. Blue jean graveyards should exist, landfills just don’t do them justice.
What do these hip hugging mainstays mean, though, I wonder? Maybe I feel a cultural connection with other Americans when I wear them. Maybe I like their versatility, as all fashion experts assert that anything can be worn with jeans (although none of them would couple anything in my closet with a pair of jeans). Maybe a bit of that or a bit of this fits here…could be.
What keeps coming back to me, though, is that they’re a constant through time. To think my twelve-year-old self wore a pair of Levi’s blue jeans and that my forty-four year old self still wears Levi’s blue jeans carries some comfort. They’ve been at every turning point, heartache and joy in my life. They were there when my parents divorced, when I went on my first date, when I got my first job, when I went to college, when I said “I do”, when I nursed my first child, when that child went off to college…. I’ve prayed, sung, wept, laughed and screamed in blue jeans. They’ve been there all the way, fully present and soothing me with their quiet touch.
In a way they remind me of One who has been present through all those times and more…and, thankfully, I’ll never have to throw Him in the bin. Nope, He has stuck closer than any inseam Levi’s could devise.
The LORD himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. (Deuteronomy 31:6)
Thank you, Jesus, for sticking closer to me than I am to myself…for sticking closer to me than anyone else or anything else and through absolutely everything I’ve ever known. How to express my gratitude, I don’t know…but I am forever grateful…yes…forever I am grateful…
*name changed to protect the innocent, kindhearted soul whose taste in clothing I like
–pic taken from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Denimjeans2.JPG
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Image via Wikipedia
Chronic complainers are the pits. They grumble and groan about the latest mishap or injustice. They grind on our nerves with their “poor me” stories and negativity. I don’t know about you, but when the wheels of discontent start spinning, I start looking for the exit, plan my dip out of sight.
Anger and resentment often accompany complainers. Some, like me, hide their emotions and put on a good face, but we all know in their heart they sneer and judge. Some express discontent, bring it forth and wear it well. We all know who they are.
Usually complainers point at a person, they complain about another: the boss didn’t follow through, the pastor forgot to call, the neighbor’s dog “did what?!” Others become the problem, the source of pain.
Complaints can be constructive, though. When presented well to the right person, they can be a catalyst for change, a way to move toward improvement, relief, better days. Chronic complaining to the wrong person, though, pollutes and denigrates. Morale sinks, faces drop, shoulders stoop.
This morning I read Exodus 16, a story about whining Israelites in the Wilderness that occurred shortly after God, through terrible plagues and a bout of military men at the bottom of the sea, “convinces” Pharaoh to release the Israelites from slavery. Standing before Moses and Aaron, the whole community complains: “If only we had died by the LORD’s hand in Egypt! There we sat around pots of meat and ate all the food we wanted, but you [Moses and Aaron] have brought us out into this desert to starve this entire assembly to death.”
Even though God is leading this motley crew of Hebrews, the people blame Moses and Aaron for their suffering. They wag fingers at fellow human beings, even though God orchestrated or, at the very least, allowed the event. Moses and Aaron, wise as they are, point back and wag away: “Who are we? You are not grumbling against us, but against the LORD.” Moses and Aaron remind the Israelites of the One responsible, the One leading, the One who placed them in this barren and deserted wasteland without provision.
Then God whispers into Moses’s ear and Moses turns to Aaron and says, “Say to the entire Israelite community, ‘Come before the LORD, for he has heard your grumbling.’”
God takes the blame, gets an audience and then He wows them. For forty years quail come to the camp every evening and manna blankets the desert floor every morning. Meat and bread, enough for everyone.
The take away, for me, is this: when I’m right were God wants me to be and things go awry, the earth starts to shift, suffering sets in, I need to quit pointing fingers at others and start wagging away at my Lord. If He has placed me where I’m uncomfortable or searing pain wins the day, then it is certainly okay to give Him an ear full. I think He prefers it, actually, for when we’re at our wits end, on our face before Him, we tend to get out of the way and make space, space for Him to show up and save the day. He gets the blame, He gets the credit.
Why? I wonder…maybe it is an opportunity to grow in faith, to release an idol or two, to remember Whose we are and Who’s in charge.
Like this:
There are victims of September 11 no one talks about, no one has held a service for, few have signed a card for. Undoubtedly, they sit sick, humiliated and horrified by the tragedy and approach the tenth anniversary of 9/11 with grief, anger and sadness. Yet, you won’t hear about them in the news or on the radio. They won’t be mentioned in any memorial.
Who am I referring to?
The families of the hijackers.
From what I can glean on the internet, almost all of the September 11 hijackers came from run-of-the-mill Middle Eastern families who weren’t especially religious or political. They are plain folk, ordinary sorts who, somehow, have to come to terms with what their loved ones did* and find ways to live in the aftermath. Somehow they have to reconcile the one who shared their table and laughed at their jokes with the one who flew a plane full of people into a tower full of people.
Has a family member ever scandalized or humiliated your family? Has a felony ever sat on your back step or an infidelity ever climbed into your bed? Has your name ever been run through the rumor mill? Have you ever felt a neighbor’s scorn or pity because of what Uncle Joe did? If not, well, congratulations your family may have super genes or uncanny spiritual protection or, just maybe, it is better than most at hiding its dark side. If so, though, I’m with you, I’ve been there. Even though we wish we hadn’t been “slugged” by our loved one, it does put us in a position to relate, in a small way, to the struggles of the mother, father, son or daughter of a death-dealing terrorist. We know that even if forgiveness is granted, some things don’t easily slip away: confusion, anger and grief ebb and flow for years, like a great tide.
I wonder, do we dare include the hijackers’ families in our inner and outer spaces tomorrow? Can our hearts hold those whose loved ones killed our loved ones? Whose sons and husbands brutalized our mothers and children? Are we that forgiving, that compassionate? Ten years later, can we do it?
I don’t know…
Maybe if we try…
Light a candle, say a prayer…dear Jesus, please help me, I’m going to try…
* For instance: the father of two hijackers, Muhammad Ali al-Shehri, is reported to have said, “If that turns out to be the truth, then I’ll never, never accept it from them. I’ll never forgive them for that.” (Wikipedia: Wail al-Shehri)
Image by Iguanasan via Flickr
Even though I haven’t posted much this year, I’ve kept up with some bloggers. This post, by Janet Hagberg, just came through my inbox and I think it is fabulous, so I share it with you…
via
How do we make moral decisions? Do we rely on our gut or do we opt for what gives us the most pleasure or do we use reason, or, or, or? Or, do we choose evil…
Cannot view? Visit http://www.ted.com/talks/damon_horowitz.html
Ethics, justice, morality, philosophy are divorced from faith and religion in this talk–Mr Horowitz doesn’t go there, which is understandable since his audience is known for being a techie bunch that bulges with agnostics and atheists. I forgive him. He only had a few minutes, after all.
In the clip, he invites the audience to reflect on how they made their last big decision. I joined in on the time of reflection and found that I didn’t line up with any of his philosophical decision-making options. I’m not saying I’ve never used any of them, I think I’ve used all of them at one time or another–even recently. But, with the one that came to mind, I took a different approach: I prayed for God to show His will for my decision and I, who was freaking out about doing the responsible thing, asked Him to take responsibility for making the decision. In letting go, the answer came and when it came, the struggle ended and peace and joy flooded my soul. I followed through, and, when the going got rough, I found peace and assurance in knowing I was right where I belonged and was doing what I was supposed to be doing. I expect great good came from my obedience. For sure, blessings bathed me…
As life would have it, I’m in the “trying to make a wise decision” boat again, I’m actively seeking God for the next step.
Horowitz talks about how hard it is to make ethical decisions, what a struggle it is. I suppose without God’s will, God’s wisdom leading, we’ll always struggle and, undoubtedly, we’ll always come up short.
A blog post for my fellow vollies and staffers, you know who you are…eavesdropping allowed for everyone else. :)
I’ve grown accustomed to your face, to the glimpses and smiles, to the silence in the chatter, to the ways we move as one yet, for each other, create space.
The sea splashes, we turn to hear. It speaks of eternity, oneness, power, humility. We try to comprehend, understand. The message escapes us, yet somehow we live it.
Empty milk jugs, baaing lambs and wild winds become routine, absolutely normal. We remember another place, another time, a dream we must reenter, but not quite yet. Jugs, lambs, winds are our now, so we sit together just to sit together, we walk together just to walk together. We linger, for the time is short, the ending in sight.
Like Dun I, we stand up yet bow low. We hold hands as we let go. Rainbows bridge us into new tomorrows, into colorful beginnings, into the kaleidoscope of life. Waving we say hello, waving we say good-bye. Nothing lingers, yet is without end.
I’m gone, but you’re still with me. I see your eyes in my dreams, I hear your voice in my ear, I feel your heart in my chest. Our time fades in memory, but stays sharp, deep within me.
Forever I will see you, I cannot imagine less, for I’ve grown accustomed…I’ve grown accustomed to your face…
Like this:
“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.”
–Solomon 2:10-12
Flowers bud, lambs frolic, seas roar…the land is alive and I swear, He speaks through it…
