Morning & Non-Morning People

If you are a morning person, you may have noticed that there are those
who don't share your same enthusiasm. They simply want to be left alone.
My middle sister & I roomed together, after leaving home & being on our own. 
The first morning, she woke me up by barging into my room, opening the
blinds, while joyfully, almost singing, good morning! I wanted to punch her.
Another time, my other sister & I were both home to visit. I had been up
a while. I saw her sitting on the couch, & said, "Good morning,". She
looked at me with a, "Go away and die" expression. I totally got it & left.

It's so nice to know that, God's mercies are new every morning. That's good
because I retain nothing others say, when I first wake. While in high school,
my morning mother, said to me,  "Sonya, Isaiah 8:10," then quoted the verse.
Later, after returning from school, I asked. "Mom, this morning you said, Isaiah
ate ten. What did Isaiah eat ten of?" She burst out laughing. I was very confused.
Then she explained what she had actually said. I then laughed too.

God never sleeps, so He is neither personality type. Morning people help us
function early & night people help morning people safely to bed. Thanking God
for both & realizing each are needed. Otherwise, Isaiah may eat ten of something
& I would never know why.

Cry Out

Cold and drafty
Dark, looming and settled in as if invited to stay another season
The chill has made it's way to the bone
Our bones cry out for refreshment
Our souls yearn for the warmth of the Son
Bring forth the newness of what is yet to come oh Lord
May your hands be seen as yours
The maker, sustainer, creator, redeemer
Our bones cry out, Our souls yearn for You

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

My husband snores. Loudly. One night it was sounding like a screaming child with each breath. He got elbowed awake and asked to roll over. Ear plugs have saved our marriage. This weekend, on St. Patrick's day, a good friend lost her husband. He was 35 and died of hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. This means that his heart had been steadily growing larger until it just gave out. There was nothing that could have been done. Now the crazy, obnoxious-loud snoring means the world to me. I have been laying awake listening to this precious sound. Pray for her. Pray for her two children. Hug each other a little tighter. God is good.

The Statue



The Statue

Man of Stone
Sinewed Rock of Beauty
Someone poured
Passion into your creation
I can touch your face
As it watches Heaven
But you will never see
Who has touched you
You cannot enfold another
In your solid arms,
Nor return any emotion
You may stir in others’ spirits
You are Created
By the Created
An Expression of the Living
Yet not alive
You are a Catalyst of Thought,
Quiet companion of the Alone
Remind us of Life in its Beauty
That our hearts Can be touched,
Can be Given, Can transform
Our arms reach out and draw closer
Our Creator poured His Passion
Into us, and it is an Eternal Flame
That can melt a heart of stone
The Created may Create
The Finite may Reach toward the Infinite
We may turn our faces to Heaven
And find the Eyes of Love that made us
The Same Hands that formed, that sculpted,
The Nail-Pierced Hands of Sacrifice
Reach to our being to bring us Home
The Worthy desires the Undeserving,
The Maker makes us worthy,
Conceiver of the Inconceivable
Vanquisher of the Impossible
Sculptor of Souls
Touch our hearts, that we may have life Forever
For Eternity is found in the Passion of the Great Artist

A glimpse of heaven

Although I enjoy worshipping with fellow believers at my local church, I really treasure those times when I have the opportunity to worship with a larger, more racially and theologically diverse group from time to time. I attended a Christian college where attendance at our chapel service each day was mandatory. This was the highlight of my two years there. I was inspired by many wonderful speakers such as David Jeremiah and Lucy Swindoll, but what I enjoyed the most was singing hymns and praise songs along with about 2,000 other students. Last week I attended a Casting Crowns concert. As much as I enjoy listening to that band, my favorite part of the evening was when they stopped singing so we could hear the audience singing together more clearly. It brought tears to my eyes as I thought once again, this is a taste of what I will experience in heaven some day when the walls that divide us here on earth will be torn down. What a glorious experience that will be to some day sing praises together with an immense throng of believers representing every race, many different denominations, and every language group. Oh that will be glory for me.

Drowning

I see Jesus.
Out of the boat!
Is this the Dead Sea,
out of the boat?
Submerged at His feet,
out of the boat.
Who needs to breathe
out of the boat?
Sweet, Oh, so sweet.
Out of the boat!

Read it for yourself

  Yesterday I was doing school work with my 7 year old daughter. She was to read a paragraph and then answer some questions about the passage. We seem to always be playing  "catch up" with school, and in order to speed things along, I decided to read the paragraph to her.
   I read slowly and clearly. I pointed to each word as I read it so she could follow along. When I finished, I asked her, "Was that fiction or non-fiction?".  She gave me a funny look and said, "I don't know. I didn't read it!"
   As funny as that moment was, it made me think..... There are some things that you just have to do for yourself. I could listen to someone else talk about their relationship with God. I can observe someone bowing their head in prayer or lifting their hands to worship, but no matter how beautifully portrayed, it will never be the same as experiencing it first hand..
   So I would encourage you to read His words for yourself....Pray for yourself....Worship for yourself....  These are personal expressions of a love relationship with a God who created each one of us as a unique reflection of Himself. We can walk this journey together, but.....
   My prayer is not your prayer. Your song is not my song. My struggle is not your struggle. Your breakthrough is not my breakthrough.  I don't want to rely on second hand stories. I want to know Him for myself.

The Hope That Lies Within

This week, my family gathered to bid farewell to my grandfather.  During the course of the weekend, I was told that some people were rather puzzled when they encountered various members of my immediate family, myself included, and found us to "not seem very upset" that our beloved father/grandfather had just died.  I mentioned this to my mother, who summed it up by saying, "I guess I just look at death differently than most people."  She is right.  We miss Grandad very much, and we all have had our moments, but we simply KNOW that we know where he is, and that we will see him again.  We do not "...sorrow as others who have no hope." (1 Thessalonians 4:13)  A friend of ours shared with us that just last week, she had said to him, "Denver, I want to take you to heaven with me!"  Grandad asked her how she was going to do that and what her husband would say (that's my Grandad!).  She very simply shared the Gospel with him and asked him to pray with her, not because she asked him to, but because he wanted to, and he prayed with her and gave his life to Jesus.  We simply know where he is...

O death, where is thy sting?  O grave, where is thy victory?  (1 Corinthians 15:55)