Advent ~Two~

Advent ~Two~

I chased the sunset yesterday.....I could see it was going to be a golden beauty.  I started driving from the east end of our little town to the west seeking a side road free of obstructions so I could drink in the glowing radiance.


What a miracle this world is! Today's Advent thought from "The Greatest Gift" was from the first chapter of Genesis and the beginning of creation.  Each day, as God spoke this world into existence, He declared it was "good".  His final work of art was the creation of man and woman. To be even more specific...the woman, Eve, was the crown, the cherry on top.

"She is the crescendo, the final, astonishing work of God.  Woman.  In one last flourish creation comes to a finish not with Adam, but with Eve.  She is the Master's finishing touch.  Eve is breathtaking.
Given the way creation unfolds, how it builds to ever higher and higher works of art, can there be any doubt that Eve is the crown of creation?  Not an afterthought. Not a nice addition like an ornament on a tree.  She is God's final touch, His piece de resistance.  She fills a place in the world nothing and no one else can fill.  Step to a window, ladies, if you can.  Better still, find some place with a view.  Look out across the earth and say to yourselves, "The whole, vast world is incomplete without me.  Creation reached its zenith in me."
From the book, "Captivating", by John and Stasi Eldredge  

My Advent treasure from today is this....I am the crown of God's creation. When I think about saying that out loud, my heart beats a little faster....my mouth gets dry... I wonder if it's a bit egotistical....but, wait....didn't God declare it first?  It is His truth.  He designed that His love for me and for you would give us our worth and value.  There is absolutely nothing in the wondrous beauty of this created world that compares with the beauty and honor He has bestowed upon you and I.

Advent ~One~

 Advent ~One~

December has descended and the frenzies have begun...

Honestly,I am not a Christmas Elf.  I fall in the Bah! Humbug! category. I have done enough naval gazing for ten people to try and pinpoint why I can't embrace all the hoopla and celebration of the season.

When my children were at home, and now if we have grandchildren with us, I put up the tree and sprinkle the house with glimmer and sparkle.  On the years our children are not able to join us you wouldn't even know it was Christmas at my house.


Last year I picked up "The Greatest Gift" by Ann Voskamp, one of my favorite authors.
The book is an Advent writing, a devotional, a journey leading to Christ's birth.

Because Christmas has been difficult for me, Advent has always been a mystery and a "why bother".  But this year, I decided to be intentional about these days and weeks leading up to Christmas Day.

My first reading today tied into the scripture from Isaiah 11:1...the promise of a new shoot from a chopped to the ground stump.  What really engaged my heart and attention was the family tree of Jesus Himself.  I'm familiar with His lineage...but today was different.  Let me share what Ann wrote:

"The coming of Christ was right through families of messed up monarchs and battling brothers, through affairs and adultery and more than a feud or two, through skeletons in closets and cheaters at tables.  It was in that time of prophets and kings, the time of Mary and Joseph, that men were in genealogies and women were invisible.  But for Jesus, women had names and stories and lives that mattered.
The family tree of Christ startlingly notes not one woman but four.  Four broken women--women who felt like outsiders, like has-beens, like never-beens.  Women who were weary of being taken advantage of, of being unnoticed and uncherished and unappreciated; women who didn't fit in, who didn't know how to keep going, what to believe, where to go-women who thought about giving up.  And Jesus claims exactly these who are wandering and wondering and wounded and worn out as His.  He grafts you into His line and His story and His heart, and He gives you His name, His lineage, His righteousness.  He graces you with plain grace."

So today, as I read this...I felt a little shoot sprout up in my heart.....the hope of something new....my shoot is small...hardly visible....but it is green and alive and full of promise. I am one of those weary, not fitting in women that Jesus has claimed as His.... a Grace Woman....a plain and simple Grace Woman.

I hope you'll come sit with me every December day as I wonder and wander along my Advent journey. 

SPINNING PLATES....

Spinning Plates....

All the wasted energy and time to keep all the plates in the air....to look good...to appear productive and talented...

Do you ever get the question, "Are you keeping busy?"  Honestly, I hate that question.  My answer has become..."As busy as I want to be."  That usually gets an odd look from the person making the small talk who really didn't care anyway. I see men ask each other the "busy-ness" question with puffed out chests like strutting roosters, playing the one-up game to see who is the king of busy.  I wonder why we as humans need to prove our worth and value to one another by our datebook?

Recently, my journal notes have been questions such as...how do I want my life to be? What do I want to do with my time?  Who do I want to do my life with? What is important to me and what needs to be discarded?  What memories do I want to be making with my friends and loved ones? 

I want my life to be intentional...designed....done on purpose. 

What about you?  Is your life intentional or driven by other people's choices and decisions?  Or maybe you are a slave to your datebook and busy-ness...
I hope you will take some time to consider your life and how you want to live it.

The Angels rejoice with applause as the dizzy spinning plates 

in slow motion fall ...

  shattering ...irreparable...not to be salvaged.

God nods His head and smiles...

now...finally... He can commune with His weary child...

Breathe life over her...

Restore her mind and emotions deadened and numbed

by fear ....

Now in the stillness she can know that she is 

loved....cherished...valued...

worthy...

loved just as she is...

...Harlot

....Harlot

For many weeks I have had the Biblical story from Luke 7:36-50 wandering around in my thoughts coupled with reading a book on grace by Tullian Tchividjian titled..."One Way Love...Inexhaustible Grace For An Exhausted World".

The story in Luke 7 is one of my favorites.  The main characters are Jesus, an "immoral woman", and the host..Simon the Pharisee.  I like this immoral woman....
she had chutzpah! (The Yiddish term for audacity.) 

But let me back up a bit and set the scene by describing what should have happened culturally when Jesus entered the home of Simon the Pharisee who had extended a dinner invitation to Jesus and his disciples.

No cars, bikes, mopeds, skateboards, buses, taxis.  Only walking on dirty, dung and excrement covered roads.  No Nikes, Toms or designer foot wear. Bare feet would have been rough and calloused, caked with dirt and scum and foul smelling.

Initially, a welcoming and honoring host would have provided servants to wash the hot, weary, dirty feet of his guests.  He would have greeted his guests with a kiss and anointed their heads with oil, a mark of respect for those entering his home.

Simon and his Pharisee friends probably had ulterior motives in inviting Jesus for a meal.  In their jealousy and fear, they wanted to trap him in some scandalous and Law breaking behavior to destroy his reputation and popularity.

Somehow, in a world void of all the techie devices we have to spread news and information, this immoral woman in the story knew Jesus was going to be at Simon's home.  And she showed up to see Jesus!  Somewhere His message of forgiveness, grace and acceptance had overwhelmed and healed her weary, hard, imbittered heart.

Her life had been one of shame, despair, and hopelessness.  She was shunned by society, an outcast. Daily tasks were done either in the heat of the day, when no-one else was out, or under the cover of darkness

Here is the "rest of the story" as written by Tullian... 
"Now, not only was this woman despised for her lifestyle, she was evidently unafraid of adding fuel to the fire.  First, she entered Simon's home uninvited and unaccompanied. "Who does she think she is?  How dare she?"  everyone in attendance would have murmured in shocked dismay.  This is the last person you would want coming to a dinner party.  She wasn't crashing just any dinner party...it was a party at the home of a religious leader, a Pharisee, a holy man, the opposite of a place where she might conceivably be welcome.  So here she came, this epitome of everything a woman should not be...rebellious, promiscuous, uncouth, foolish, and very likely diseased....and she threw herself down at the feet of Simon's guest.  Why didn't she just wait for Jesus outside or try to catch him beforehand?  Why wasn't she afraid of what would happen?

Her brazenness didn't end there.  No, the indignities just kept multiplying.  Out from under her soiled robes, she brought an alabaster flask of ointment. Onlookers could easily surmise where she had gotten the money to buy it and for what purposes she had previously used it.  But now she fell behind a reclining Jesus, while Simon, the disciples, and even the house slaves stood aghast.  She poured her precious perfume on Jesus's feet.  Then she uncovered her head (another religious no-no), took down her hair, and used her hair as a towel to clean him.  Apparently she wept so intensely that her tears made a bath for his calloused, dry feet.  And then she kissed him, his feet.  Over and over again. And he welcomed it.  Jesus welcomed the kisses of a whore.  She, the defiled was cleaning Jesus, the pure.

Clearly, this woman had come to the end of herself.  Like an addict hitting bottom, she had died to everything but her desire for help.  She ran to Christ and he did not turn her away.  Grace begins where pride ends."    ~One Way Love

This woman worshiped without words.  We have no record of her promising to "do better"....no prayers prayed....nothing signed. As Tullian further notes about her...."Just tears and kisses and audacious love."

Jesus assured her that her sins were forgiven, her faith had saved her and told her to go in peace.  Peace....something she had never known... calming... strengthening...life-giving peace.

Jesus also had a lesson for Simon.  As only Jesus could do...he calmly recounted the evening and Simon's lack of graciousness and courtesy.  The customs of hospitality that Simon had blatantly refused to extend to Jesus, the immoral woman had provided....his feet were washed, anointed and kissed in gratitude. He exposed Simon's self-righteousness and the false thinking that Simon had based on his religious performance.

Because of her self-less love and humility, the harlot was more "righteous" than Simon the Pharisee.  
Jesus gave dignity, restoration and healing to this woman who had nothing to offer but her tears....

EMPTY NESTING....

Empty Nesting...

When I was 19 and walking down a wedding aisle, I gave no thought to this current season of my life.

I was naive and giddy, excited to begin the adventure of marriage. I was ready for this fairy tale...the happily ever after... or so I thought.

  
Looking back, all I can say is, "oh my....".  We were clueless, as most couples are, about the work marriage is.  Two dysfunctional people, who don't know they are dysfunctional, loaded down with emotional baggage and unrealistic expectations....oh my...

Before our two year anniversary we celebrated the birth of our daughter. Before our 5 year anniversary we welcomed our son into our little family.

If you have followed my blog, you are familiar with my story of being the adult child of an alcoholic.  Our family life was disrupted over and over again with the drama addiction brought into our lives.  Every 2-3 years, I was leaving my husband and children to sit in a hospital room, as my dad had again drank himself to death's door. We were always open and honest with our children, in age appropriate terms, about what was transpiring and why grandpa was "sick" again. Little did we know that our openness and honesty was laying the groundwork for how we would relate to our children as they became adults and how they would relate to those around them.

I did not parent perfectly...shocker isn't it?!  I was a smother mother, control freak, sometimes screaming crazy woman.  

Over the years, as I have pursued my emotional healing and God has faithfully been restoring me by His grace, I have apologized to my children for failing them.  I have given them the freedom to come to me at any point in time and honestly share their feelings with me about how my behavior hurt them.
I did not want the secrecy and "sweep it under the rug" mentality that I had grown up with to continue on to another generation....and another....and another...

It never fails, every time we are all together, my children and their spouses relish in telling "mom" stories.  It used to twist my heart and I would overcompensate by trying to fix it by apologizing all over again. (Add "fixer" to my imperfect parenting traits!)  Now I am able to relax and just laugh with them. I know they don't bring the past up to be cruel or to exact revenge.  The reality is, the past is woven into the fabric of our lives along with forgiveness and restoration, love and respect.

The caption for the image of the empty nest above is..."seeds-in-birds-nest".  When my children left home, I remember sitting in their empty rooms and weeping.  I didn't know what my life would be like without them.  In His all knowing mercy and provision, God had already lined my empty nest with seeds that would sprout into many yet unknown paths, adventures, heartaches and the most delightful joys called grandchildren. 

And for almost 38 years, my husband and I continue to live out our "fairy tale" one day at a time....one argument at a time....one kiss at a time...

Lately, my favorite verse of Scripture has been Proverbs 31:25.  In the New English Translation it reads...."She is clothed with strength and honor, and she can laugh at the time to come."

I'm laughing.....I hope you are too...

TEARS....

TEARS....


We are all familiar with tears.  Our own and those of people we love and care for. I have even caught a glimpse of a stranger in a restaurant wiping a stray tear...hoping no one noticed their vulnerability.

I have seen tears used for control and manipulation. Probably even tried that one myself. Tears can be mysterious, especially when they seem to come from no-where.  I have started to relay a story and have become so overcome with emotion that I couldn't continue and found myself saying..."I don't know where that came from."

What makes you cry?  What touches your heart?  Are you willing to be moved to tears?  Are you uncomfortable with strong emotions?

Emily Freeman in her book, "A Million Little Ways", says it like this:

"What does it matter what makes you cry or tear up?
...maybe our tears are tiny messengers, secret keepers of the most vulnerable kind, sent to deliver the most important message-Here is where your heart beats strong.  Here is a hint to your design.  Here is a gift from your inner life, sent to remind you of those things that make you come alive.
These tears carry the gift of your desire.  Listen to them.
Change in the world comes when we acknowledge what moves us and why.
Listen to what makes you cry."

I wrapped my arms around a grieving widow last week.  She had lost her husband of 35 years to a sudden tragic accident.  I felt and heard her sobs...but she had run out of tears to cry.  So I cried some for and with her. The day of the funeral, I again heard her sobs as she and her family waited at the back of the church to make their way to the front. She looked out at a church filled to overflowing with a community that had suspended daily routine to remember the life of her husband and support his broken family.

I cried as I saw her grown son standing tall beside her, carrying his father's ashes with tenderness and honor. I imagined the father had held this son with similar tenderness and honor on the day he was born.

Years ago I was in a heated "discussion" with a person in the inner circle of my life.  It was not going well. With my back to this person, I was rendered to silent tears.  In the silence... spoken at my back, came the words..."Your tears do not move me."  My heart was seared as if with a branding iron.  Right or wrong, I made an inner vow that I would never weep in front of that person again.  

Psalm 56:8 puts infinite value on our tears...

"You have kept record of my days of wandering.

You have stored my tears in Your bottle

and counted each of them."

So, my friend....listen to your tears....they have a message for your heart and your life.

Mon cœur en Côte d'Ivoire, Afrique

Translation.....My Heart in Cote d'Ivoire, Africa......

Several years ago I traveled with friends to the African country of Cote d'Ivoire.  The photo is a picture from our hotel.  It is the commercial version of the beautiful, colorful women of this country.

We stayed in Abidjan, a city of 5 million.  I have never seen so many people.  As the commerce/financial hub of Cote d'Ivoire, the city was bustling and busy.

Pictures tell the story about a country of contrasts....from ultra modern and cultural to villages without running water and electricity.

A village chief

 The vegetation was breathtaking....

 

We were guests at garden dinner parties and ocean side picnics...

French is the language of choice in Cote d'Ivoire.  Most of the time, we were privy to translators to help us along the way.  When they were not in attendance..it was non-stop laughing at ourselves and many quizzical eye brow liftings from the Ivorians.

But...it was the children who captured my heart...

 They were so curious about us and our whiteness..... shyly, tentatively touching our skin.




We came prepared with candy and small toys to share with the children. 

Their genuine excitement and gratitude over bracelets and trinkets was humbling.

How we wished we would have packed more...

Little beauty in a pink dress....

It was the journey of a lifetime...

This multi-faceted country intrigued me in so many ways...

An ocean-side artisan hand painting a tablecloth

These women were selling the most delicious bread I have ever tasted and a sweet drink made from a local flower.

Surprise!!  Baby on board!

 The Ivorian people were gracious and giving....welcoming.... overflowing with hospitality.  They opened their homes to us.....prepared their delicious foods....ate with us in friendship...celebrating our differences and our sameness.

Most likely, I will never see them again in my lifetime... but they are forever imprinted on my heart....