Addressed to Me

In the pocket of my yellow duct tape Bible cover I found it. The post card was in my handwriting. It was the processing tool from a women's event. We gathered our thought highlights from the day and scripted out a few summary phrases. After a time, the coordinator sent them out. It arrived, I read it, and tucked it away.

The truth from that day had long-ago left my memory, but here it is, today, smacking me across the heart. The second phrase reads, "there is beauty in a story that unravels". Only One could have known that Truth would be need to be reinjected into my brain on this foggy December day. 

I'm not a knitter, but I've poured myself into knitting our Five for Aslan family together. And we had a pretty awesome tight-knit family sweater/thing going.

But it was only meant to warm us for a while. God began to pull on a thread. Anger surfaced because He didn't mend the sweater, instead He kept pulling. He keeps pulling! The unraveling continues.  It is proving to be very exhausting trying to collect the loosened thread as well as fighting to keep more from unraveling. 

November 25 my journal has a list of phrases and words that were an attempt to describe the inward:

"Unraveling - The Great Unraveling"

I need help to see the beauty in the unraveling. My head knows success lies in the abolition of self and in the sincere delight for others. The only source that can enable this abolition is the Spirit of my Self-less God. I know He sees beauty in the unraveling and I imagine He has incredible knitting projects planned for all these loose threads.

Our Gentle Privilege

Sometimes it's embarrassing to admit what's important to our hearts.  In this case the embarrassment lies in the fact that the object of importance is a privilege and, should that privilege be withdrawn, the proper response should be, "alas, it was a gift for a time".  However, this privilege is tightly wound into our love for the place in which we dwell.  This privilege I speak of is the view from Bag End. 

Each morning we discover a surprise: a mysterious fog hiding the shore, a holy mist hovering above the water, a faithful blue heron sneaking between the cattails, or (as delighted in this morning) an artistic life-through-death fall color reflecting on the surface.  The view is a magnet for the eye that few have the power to resist.  It has been the exclamation point on many passages of Scripture and the period at the end of "you only need to be still".*  It is a victim of long gazes as mind games are fought within. 

To put this view-privilege in its place it should be said that among all the sites to behold it is certainly not, nor ever will be, sought after by world travelers.  But it is comforting warmth and refreshing breath to the residents and guests of Bag End.

Not long ago an orange flag marked the beginning of the tainting of the view from Bag End.  After an orange flag would follow a sign; a sign whose intent was to protect and guard against recklessness but whose impact on Bag End was disruption and a bit of marring.  The purity, perhaps, was the loss most felt.  Secret plans to reposition those arrogant orange flags (so as to resposition the placement of The Disruption) thankfully died in right-thinking.  The plans were contemplated in the first place, for you see


the most accurate depiction of my perspective is best captured in the image below.

A problem arose: no one seemed to empathize with my sense of loss (by no one I mean the friend who puts forth great effort to understand me and has done so for nearly two decades).  This could serve as great opportunity to trust my Heavenly Dad with my (back to the first thoughts) embarassing emotions, if the courage to be thoroughly honest could be mustered.  He handled them like a champ and wasn't apalled or frightened by them one bit!  In fact, He succeeded in stirring them in the heat of His love until they melted down into peace.  (The heat was really quite hot though, and it burned.)  But He took all and threw them into the pot.  It must be noted that He didn't take only the mature and selfless ones.  

And so, the story goes on.  The peace came and the new sign-inclusive view would be an altar to remember to pray for the people the sign would protect and to trust, again and again, my Eternal Dad with my heart.

But suddenly one day the shock came too: the permanently placed sign was to be moved.  It was to find its new permanent home a few yards to the east and a few yards out of our gentle privilege.








*Exodus 14:14

Significance is relative

 You might see a narrow dirt road.  If that's what you see, this image probably has very little significance to you.  I see the road that leads to the upper pasture; the road that we took to see the herd of horses at Cran-Hill for the very first time.  There were so many beautiful horses and Ellie was dying to get out of the car and stand at the gate to get a closer look.  She was 13 and her head was full of horse dreams.  Now we travel this dirt road frequently and every time we do one of those horse dreams moves from her head to her reality.  Thank you, Lord for this dirt road.  

You might see an old corn crib.  If that's what you see, this image probably has very little significance to you.  I see a corn crib just like one that set on my Grandpa and Grandma's farm.  Grandma and I passed this corn crib on our way out to the garden to pick dill for the pickles she was canning.  That corn crib was the back drop to my days as a Rosebush girl.  The first time I saw this corn crib at the Ranch, the farm-girl that had been buried (or maybe just tucked away) came to life again.  Thank you so much for this corn crib, Lord.

 It's not a fantastic photo. You may just see the backsides of two horses and the backs of two kids.  But it's a brother and sister who share a love for horses.  It's a teenage girl who takes time to trail ride with her little brother and it's a pre-teen boy who's not too cool to trail ride with his big sister.  It's a result of what Jesus can do for relationships within a family.  Thank you, Jesus for their friendship.

He has the best ideas

"Oh Marilla, how much you miss." (from Anne to Marilla Cuthbert)

I guess you could call me Marilla, at least until a few days ago.  Instead of giving up something for Lent, God asked me to add something to my daily routine: a walk.  Such a simple thing has brought so much life.  It's often late evening before I have a chance (or take the time) to go for a walk, but the dark winter nights have been incredible.  I'm slightly grieving all the walks I've missed, but no more.  It is too refreshing and empowering to miss these quiet interactions with creation and the Creator.  Today is full of thankfulness for His idea - He knows our hearts!

When I grow up I want to be a destruction worker!

There was something in Jackson's nature that was bent toward being destructive.  It wasn't true all the time, but it would show up in at times and surprise me.  Most of the time, his destructive actions happened when we were outside and the recipient was a section of tree bark or a flower or some path-lining plant.  I remember discussion after discussion with him about not being destructive.  It seemed so contrary to God's character and therefore not a characteristic I wanted to encourage in our son.

Today I see some error in my thinking.  I've been reading through Jeremiah in the Bible and the book is full of destruction.  A "therefore" started clicking:  God is holy and all that He does is holy.  God brings destruction of what's evil. Therefore it can be holy to destroy what is evil.  And that's when the William Wilberforce ghost started flying through my thoughts again (this is the second time in two days! - see article in the National Review about Eric Metaxas).  Wilberforce committed his life to the destruction of the evil of slavery.   

So go ahead, Jackson - build up that part of you that's bent toward destruction.  Just promise me you'll let the Holy Spirit channel it.  Maybe you and I will be a part of destroying something in our culture that's inherently evil.

A home with a view

As Bob and Nanci prepare to move into this house, they have brought several friends over to tour their new home. Without fail each person that sees the view of the lake from our living room says, "you're going to really miss this view". Yes, I am. Yes, we are. At one point I was regretting not taking more pictures of the lake's beauty and started to feel pretty sad about leaving our view. Then I was reminded of an ironic truth: I do have pictures of the lake. It's just that the lake serves as the background of pictures of my family and friends. The view I love most I get to take with me... it's the people God has gifted into my life. So, come enhance the view of our new home because then we will still have a wonderful view.