Today

Today was a good day, and
a hard day. A mixture of the
deeply familiar, the beauty of
the mountain, and the chill
of Winter.

The afternoon was spent trekking
up to the Mountain, God's Mountain,
me with two nephews in tow, following
the rest of the McGary clan. Mat Kearney
playing, sipping fresh coffee, and heading
up to the place that has my heart.

The past few days have been hard, as
I made one last journey with Mr. Darcy's
ashes, kept safely with a dear friend these
past few weeks. I cried when she handed
them to me, and I cried again in church,
the anniversary of his diagnosis last year.

I'm thankful for the gift he was,
this beautiful mountain that will be his resting place,
and for faithful friends who have intercepted my
tears and shed their own tears with me.

Bringing him up here, to what will
be his final resting place, brought a measure
of needed closure. It will be spring before we
can bury his ashes, as the ground is already
frozen. But he is safe in the little trailer,
surrounded by the leafless aspens and the place
we call Home.

So in the chill of Winter, I left my faithful
friend up on God's Mountain, my furry friend
who will always have my heart, in the place
that has my heart. Today was a hard day, but
a good day.

Whisper

Rivets of steel, pounded into 

Spanses of metal. Red hot from

Friction and ear-numbing sound. So

Our hearts too oft become. 

Persons made and broken by plans 

Secured and failed. Icy cold tendrils 

Of pity and pence find their way in 

Through cracks of blindness and resistance. 

An enterprise planned, drawn up, built where 

Man and metal combine in partnership of 

arrogance and confidence. The four meet in

The docks and commence in crashing waves. 

But the whisper of wisdom is ignored, the 

Cry of caution displaced by fools ears and 

Men's plans to sail what course he will, of his 

Own making. 

Oh for steadfast and unwavering foresight

To see the storm and reset the sails. Oh to

See the icy cold path ahead and turn for 

Warmer seas. Oh for grace to heed the cry of 

Reason when she calls through pounding wind 

And determined course. 

May our plans and purpose be not 

So steeled and fixed that we cannot turn 

The mast of our ships to fairer seas where 

Grace and wisdom dance together in 

The dawning Light. 

more than the morning mist

Oh for grace that this would be be true in my life:

Faithfulness to Jesus Christ is the supernatural work of redemption that has been performed in me by the Holy Spirit— “the love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit…” And it is that love in me that effectively works through me and comes in contact with everyone I meet. I remain faithful to His name, even though the commonsense view of my life may seemingly deny that, and may appear to be declaring that He has no more power than the morning mist.

from Oswald Chambers, Oct 18 reading

This strange earthly life

This is a strange walk, this earthly life.

One of faith and frailty, fears and

failures. You say we’re spirit,

But all we can see are hands and

Skin and bones. You call us to faith,

And hope in the Unseen.

But all we can sense is the

Seen, the heard, the tasted, and the

Touched. You give us faith, and then call

Us to trust in a future that is eternal and glorious.

But all we can feel in these earthly bodies

Are goodbyes and loss

And sacrifice and missing joy. 

You came and conquered. And then left,

Telling us you would one day return. It’s

Been a long time and too many of those

We love have left and gone to you, without a

Word, never to be seen, this side of

Our own death. Yet, you say to have hope.

Hope in the unseen. Dear Lord, we

Are earthly creatures, our physical senses

Far out-pacing the spiritual. You call

Us into the spiritual realm, in surrender,

In faith, and trust and hope. And yet we cannot

See past these hands and skin and bones.

So Lord, have mercy on our skin-bound

Souls, and our weak minds who try to

See the unseen, but are left with a

Sense that all is not as it should

Be or how it will be. Forgive us our

Frailties and our fears. Give us the 

Courage to walk like Joshua, in

Hope that what is beyond our sight is true and

More real than all we can see.

5 o’clock

You had my heart the moment I saw your furry little body curled up in Dad’s arms, asleep on the couch. Then when you got so sick and I’d hold you when I came home from work, it sealed the deal. I was your person.

Then you followed your nose one morning and were lost to us for five agonizing days. We finally found you through our lost posters and someone else’s found posters and through our tears of joy we hugged you as you “told” us all about your adventures and your relief at seeing us again.

You’ve been my constant companion through starting a new life in Austin and moving eleven times.  Every major transition I’ve made in the last thirteen years, you’ve been the steady friend staying close, keeping watch. You have sat next to me and leaned in when I cried over breakups, failures, and losses.

You ALWAYS wanted to go with me whenever I left the house, and somehow you knew I was getting ready to go, even before I started getting ready.  You would stare at me with those piercing brown eyes asking the question every time. If I answered “are you ready?” you joyfully grabbed your leash and pranced out to the truck. If the answer was “you need to stay here”, your head would drop in utter dejection, testing my resolve not to take you. On trips where you couldn’t come, you greeted my returns with the same joy if I’d been gone for ten minutes or a long work trip.

My days with you were predictable: every day at 5 o’clock you would start staring at me, letting me know it was dinner time. Ten pm rolled around and you were staring at me again, asking for your good-night bone (you couldn’t go to sleep without it).

The last eight months with you have been hard, as I’ve watched the curse and death and pain take over your furry body. These days have been a gift, too. I’ve been able to love you and care for you, and take comfort that I’ve loved you the best I possibly could.

You’ve been a gift to me from the Father above. In a few days and with many tears, I’ll hand you back to Him, forever thankful I got to be your mom.  I will hand you back, standing in the Promise that someday, somehow He will make all things new and there won’t be any more goodbyes or tears or pain or death. You will always be the Doodlebug, the Mr. Darcy, in my heart and that place will forever be yours, even as our days together come to the end.

#hardfightsoftheart

I read this blog through the course of the author's fight with cancer; I came away challenged, humbled, and encouraged.

The biggest take away was a phrase she used: "it takes a hard fight to keep a soft heart." I read that last summer, during a time that was particularly challenging for me, spiritually, relationally, and emotionally. I was having my own struggle with keeping a soft heart and her words were challenging and encouraging.

It takes hard work to keep my heart soft.

It's a battle. A daily battle.

And what's a soft heart? One that hopes and trusts and looks forward, even when it seems there is no runway or reason to.

Life can be really hard and we have a choice in how we respond to it: we can shake our fist and let cynicism and self pity move in; or we can fight the hard fight and choose to accept and grow from the pain and let it mature us, resulting in a soft heart. The destinations of these two choices are drastically different.

That summer I started looking for ways to remind me to fight this fight. It included making lists of things I'm grateful for; and being on the lookout for the beautiful in the simple and everyday things, like heart designs in lattes and raindrops on leaves.

Then I decided to get techie and create the hashtag "#hardfightsoftheart". More recently, I started an Instagram account called hard fight | soft heart. Here I am using some of my older photos and combining them with verses, quotes, and promises that remind me the keep up the hard fight for a soft heart.

What are the things you're battling against, things that are hard, things that call you toward cynicism and self pity?  What reminds you to keep up the hard fight for a soft heart? I beckon you into this battle and welcome you to share about your own fight.

Worry

Sitting on a bus back home

I watch the scenery pass. A field

Of round bales, a manufacturing

Plant, the Colorado River, and a

Few cows. They go by quickly, as

The scene changes from big Texas

City to Lone Star countryside.

This morning was busy, between

Customer meetings and calls to the

Vet. The seconds and minutes added

Up, but not as quickly as the items on my

To do list and the thoughts in my head.

This week has been a weird one.

My heart heavy for family, heavy

For friends, and heavy for furry friends.

It seems that worry could easily

Set in and take over any space saved

For prayer and surrender.

Rummaging through old photos last

Night in my hotel room, I came across

One of Jess lifting up a dandelion with

The threads floating off into the bright

background. It struck me that this is how

I want worry to look in my life:

Offering it up to God, watching it flit away

Into the Son’s bright grace.

It’s the offering-up part that is hard.  It

Requires that I pick the worry up, lift

It up, and let go of it. This doesn’t just

Happen, but requires exerted effort and

And willingness to do so. 

I pray that just as on that bright summer

Day on the mountain, Jess lifted up the

Dandelion to the sky and watched it melt

Away, I would offer up this worry

And watch it melt away with each mile

Adding up on this bus ride home.

In review

In preparation for Share Night at BSF tonight, I've gone through my notes from the past few months of studying Revelation and posted them below. These are in answer to the weekly question "What have you learned about God in this week's study?"

• He wants us with him. He is rolling out his plan, no matter how crazy the world looks. Nothing is a surprise to him.
• The Big Story, who God is, and He is coming again and He cares for each of us, and we are on the winning side, no matter how hard this life is. 
• He is worthy to be obeyed, lived for. Prayer against distraction, fear, and for faithfulness. He is Faithful and True. 
• He knows us and never leaves us alone. Be prepared - by staying in the Word, staying close to Him; that we would have zero tolerance for evil. 
• Remaining faithful when year after year goes by and I'm not where I want to be. 
• He is huge and powerful; worthy of my worship. I am so small, but loved, even when my attitude stinks like a three year old throwing a tantrum. 
• How would I live if I knew Christ was coming back on Friday? Trust and faith in Him, and taking his word seriously. 
• He knows and loves me and is with me; He is in charge. Tells me not to fear - may my faith increase! 
• The seriousness of sin; the need to live daily for Him. 
• We are at war, lives in the balance. He is with us and provides abundantly, if we are willing to step out and be counted. 
• The is a Light side and a dark side - this must be taken seriously. He is working even when it seems He is not. 
• He WILL have his way - He is utterly victorious - He asks that I stay awake, focused, engaged, obedient, and ready. Jesus has drunk the cup of God's wrath for us. 
• That I would remain humble about my own sin - when faced by the sins of another; I am a sinner saved by God's great grace. 
• We win in the end. We will have to declare allegiance to someone - let us chose the one who love us and wins. He has shown us how to live - love mercy, act justly, walk humbly. 
• His complete victory and total allegiance. 
• His plan will roll out, swiftly, and I want to be waiting and ready. 
• His power, perfect timing, perfect mercy and judgment. May I remain always faithful and true to my Saviour. 
• That the truth of Revelation would stick. 
• He is coming soon, how I live my life now matters for eternity. 

what if

What if the reaction of a saint coming home (to Heaven) 

is the opposite of our grief and sorrow here (on Earth)?

What if it's a glorious home-coming, friends-united, 

"what-took-you-so-long" kind of celebration?

I Thessalonians 4:13-18 - encourage one another with these words.

She gave

I hurried down the street

Alison Krauss playing through my earbuds

Stresses from customer demands

And company pressures

Tangling my thoughts and joy.

Why does life have to be so hard?

I thought as I walked to pick up

My meal. Nice boots clicking on

The pavement, new skirt swishing

In the breeze.

How am I going to handle this stress?

Can one person meet these

Demands of boss and customer all

In a day? My eyes on my feet and

The questions taking control.

I look up to cross the street and

Our eyes meet. Her cloudy eyes

In a disfigured face, her limp on

A deformed body. Clothes dirty and

Crumpled, hat askew.

She smiled. At me. We were from

Two completely different planets

Passing at the same second, the

Same brick, the same street light.

She smiled. And she gave.

She gave to me a sign of joy. She gave

Warmth on a cold blustery day. She

Gave from her nothing to me who has

Everything and I took. I took her smile

And sealed it in my heart.

A seal to remember that I received from her

Who had nothing to give. A seal to remind

Me that I always have joy and warmth and

And a smile to give, even if the day wears

Me out. I have much to give.

the whisper of his grace

He makes all things new
In the midst of my failure
He raises me above it all

His grace makes small my mistakes
And His mercy overlooks my guilt
I am made new

He asks me to walk away from the mess I helped create
Draws me away by His great whisper
To leave behind the heap
That I am inclined toward

His healing grace a dart into my soul
And His breath washing me clean from enemy's filth

But I want to go back
To the heap
To the muddy puddle
Forgetting that a King's playground awaits

Energies directed and spent in focus of the smallness
     I am owed by another
Forgetting the enormity of my dept wiped clean
     by His breath on me
And the higher places to which He beckons
By the whisper of His grace

By the whisper of His grace
I am drawn into His space
Letting go of what I want to cling to


found recently in an old journal, written in March 2011

sometimes hope

sometimes hope
strings me along
asks for audacious trust

i find myself
reluctant to hope
a wispy cloud on the horizon

we're told to hope
for things unseen
in the heavenlies and here on earth

i want to hope
but i don't
i don't want to put my heart on the line

sometimes hope
seems a mocking
cruel, disappointing, shallow friend

sometimes hope
calls us into a
vast wilderness of trust and faith

sometimes hope
burns brightly
sometimes barely flickers like a small flame on an old fire.

written for a friend, with echoes from my own heart.