Life is getting simpler for me...in all its complexity. Simpler inside because I don't run away so much from what I feel. I acknowledge it to myself at least, and don't try to have all the answers. And my security in God's knowledge of me, and His unfailing love for me, is growing deeper every day. Last night my daughter had her second showing and sharing of her journey in photos of stories in Uganda last summer, her return to the home of her childhood, with my other daughter joining her. Both times we had between 25 and 30 friends and acquaintances. Both times she did so well, and we enjoyed hosting with Ugandan food and blessing our friends...but it's all work, and all tiring, on top of the rest of life. But it was a joy, and it also brought up many past questions and issues for me about our life there, and the big story that it will always be in my own life. So, along with work and study and all that life has brought this past week, I wrote my blog post around midnight last night, having the comfort and simplicity of a song I found this week by the same artist who did the one I posted last Saturday. It is simple and deep. The way I like to be. Here is the post from the devotional team blog I write for on Saturdays, with the song: (www.whateverhesays.blogspot.com):
No One Knows My Heart Better Than You
The end of a long evening, a long day, a long week. I reflect on many conversations, many questions in my mind and heart, many wonderings about relationships. Some moments and conversations were filled with deep understanding on many levels. Some were filled with tension and confusion, causing my mind to swirl. Sometimes I wished I had not shared as much as I did. Some times I wished I had shared more. Sometimes I lay awake pondering it all. But the place of comfort and peace was in my Heavenly Father's presence. I crawled into His lap in my heart, and accepted His love, became His little child again, and rested in the knowledge of the depth of His knowledge of me. It didn't matter anymore how much I was understood or not by others, because He understands me, and I see by His touch in my life in so many ways that He is able to work out what I need to happen to move ahead, despite the agony of living,as this song expresses it.
So here is this comforting truth, expressed for us all, in a song.
No One Knows My Heart Better Than You
Standing at my window, hidden by the night
Harboring the private wounds, safe and out of sight
There's an agony in living, but there's a comfort in the truth
That no one knows my heart better than You.
I can face a lot of people with this sanguine act of mine
Guarded by the eloquence I sometimes hide behind
But it's a veil of false pretenses that You can see right thru
'Cause no one knows my heart better than You.
Part of me is reaching, and part of me holds back
But when it comes to You I am a doorway
You're free to walk into
'Cause no one knows my heart better than You.
Words and music by Susan Ashton, Billy Sprague and Wayne Kirkpatrick
Copywright 1991 Birdwing Music/Sking Horse Inc. ASCAP/Emily Boothe, Inc. (BMI)
February 21, 2009
February 14, 2009
joy in not being "moved"
I wrote this post last night for www.whateverhesays.blogspot.com. It came out in a dry way, I felt, and I was unsatisfied with it, but had to put it on because Saturday is usually a day on which I am committed to write. I even wrote to that blog's administrator to say that she could put something else up if she liked. But as I read it this morning, and the comment from an encouraged early morning reader, I realize it was probably a good thing that it was dry for me, because it is about having a rock based faith that is immovable, that dwells below our circumstances and emotions. So I am encouraged today by my own post, by my own words. And I remember a prophetic word spoken over me, unsought, a week ago last night. Part of it was about God developing a strength in me that would enable me to survive all the storms coming my way. I feel as if I have been in some more emotional storms this week, and my response to them has been to quiet down, batten down my inner hatches, and weather the storm, kind of grimly at first, but now with more of that deep joy of knowing that God is in charge, will bring me through, and is using the storm to develop my strength and resilience.
Here's the post:
Let Nothing Move You
This week I have been pondering these words from 1 Corinthians 15:58. They jumped off the page for me a few days ago and have been dwelling in the back of my mind and heart ever since. I assume God is trying to say something to me personally, give me a rhema word, a special message for me. And of course He's right on, when I give myself time to be still and let Him be God.
I go through my days, trying to sit back from myself and ask if I am being "moved". Now of course I believe that He wants us to be moved, to care deeply, about many people and situations, to weep with those who weep, to rejoice with those who are rejoicing. So I don't think He's talking about that.
I believe He's talking about developing that quality of inner stillness that is not dismayed, that deep trust in God's faithfulness that holds on no matter what, that capacity of knowing and dwelling in the depths of His spirit, far beneath the ever changing forces moving all around us.
I have to say that is the only way for me. That deep place of quietness is the only place to be, the only way to be truly at home in God and in myself. Otherwise I will always be pulled out of myself, tossed here and there, reacting to each stimulus,and often over-reacting.
That deep balance comes only from His presence deep within my being. As I look back on my life, as I look within myself from the vantage point of many years of walking with God, I understand more fully why He gave me that life verse when I was only 11 years old, from my dear grandmother: "In quietness and confidence shall be your strength." (Isaiah 30:15)
Here's the post:
Let Nothing Move You
This week I have been pondering these words from 1 Corinthians 15:58. They jumped off the page for me a few days ago and have been dwelling in the back of my mind and heart ever since. I assume God is trying to say something to me personally, give me a rhema word, a special message for me. And of course He's right on, when I give myself time to be still and let Him be God.
I go through my days, trying to sit back from myself and ask if I am being "moved". Now of course I believe that He wants us to be moved, to care deeply, about many people and situations, to weep with those who weep, to rejoice with those who are rejoicing. So I don't think He's talking about that.
I believe He's talking about developing that quality of inner stillness that is not dismayed, that deep trust in God's faithfulness that holds on no matter what, that capacity of knowing and dwelling in the depths of His spirit, far beneath the ever changing forces moving all around us.
I have to say that is the only way for me. That deep place of quietness is the only place to be, the only way to be truly at home in God and in myself. Otherwise I will always be pulled out of myself, tossed here and there, reacting to each stimulus,and often over-reacting.
That deep balance comes only from His presence deep within my being. As I look back on my life, as I look within myself from the vantage point of many years of walking with God, I understand more fully why He gave me that life verse when I was only 11 years old, from my dear grandmother: "In quietness and confidence shall be your strength." (Isaiah 30:15)
February 07, 2009
joy in the daily promise of new life in Him
Today my post written a few days ago was published on www.whateverhesays.blogspot.com. I am seeing the fruits of it already, and rejoicing in God's faithfulness.
Raised to a New Life
I am home sick today. So are my family. I am in recovery, but they are at the stage I was in two days ago. All I wanted to do was sleep, and reduce the ache in my gut. I ate hardly anything. It was hard to pray, hard to feel positive about life, and the deep cold outside did not help, except to make me not feel so bad about staying indoors and not working. These are the days to ask ourselves what our faith consists of, how we hold on to the dreams and visions God has given us, how we see ourselves as human beings, rather than human doings. There is little I can do to prove my worth today, except to get through it, and to keep my faith and trust and hope alive. I am sure there are so many days like this for so many people, and there have been many before for me, without being sick, many days when I had only the words God had given me to hold on to.
I share today some of those words that I read in a Daily Prayer each day, taken from the website of the ministry of John and Stasi Eldredge: www.ransomedheart.com. You can find the full two page text of this prayer under the section on their website called Going Deeper- Daily Prayer.
Jesus, I also sincerely receive you as my life, my holiness, and strength, and I receive all the work and triumph of your resurrection, through which you have conquered sin and death and judgment. Death has no mastery over you, nor does any foul thing. And I have been raised with you to a new life, to live your life - dead to sin and alive to God. I now take my place in your resurrection and your life, through which I am saved by your life. I reign in life through your life. I receive your life - your humility, love and forgiveness, your integrity in all things, your wisdom, discernment and cunning, your strength, your joy, your union with the Father. Apply to me the fullness of your resurrection. I receive it with thanks and give it total claim to my spirit, soul and body, my heart, mind and will.
My life is beyond this body, this hour, this day, this circumstance. I must never forget that, nor must you.
Raised to a New Life
I am home sick today. So are my family. I am in recovery, but they are at the stage I was in two days ago. All I wanted to do was sleep, and reduce the ache in my gut. I ate hardly anything. It was hard to pray, hard to feel positive about life, and the deep cold outside did not help, except to make me not feel so bad about staying indoors and not working. These are the days to ask ourselves what our faith consists of, how we hold on to the dreams and visions God has given us, how we see ourselves as human beings, rather than human doings. There is little I can do to prove my worth today, except to get through it, and to keep my faith and trust and hope alive. I am sure there are so many days like this for so many people, and there have been many before for me, without being sick, many days when I had only the words God had given me to hold on to.
I share today some of those words that I read in a Daily Prayer each day, taken from the website of the ministry of John and Stasi Eldredge: www.ransomedheart.com. You can find the full two page text of this prayer under the section on their website called Going Deeper- Daily Prayer.
Jesus, I also sincerely receive you as my life, my holiness, and strength, and I receive all the work and triumph of your resurrection, through which you have conquered sin and death and judgment. Death has no mastery over you, nor does any foul thing. And I have been raised with you to a new life, to live your life - dead to sin and alive to God. I now take my place in your resurrection and your life, through which I am saved by your life. I reign in life through your life. I receive your life - your humility, love and forgiveness, your integrity in all things, your wisdom, discernment and cunning, your strength, your joy, your union with the Father. Apply to me the fullness of your resurrection. I receive it with thanks and give it total claim to my spirit, soul and body, my heart, mind and will.
My life is beyond this body, this hour, this day, this circumstance. I must never forget that, nor must you.
February 04, 2009
joy in the morning, whatever the day
I am writing posts for the devotional blog, www.whateverhesays.blogspot.com, whenever they come to me, and they are being used on other days than just Saturdays, sometimes. So this one was posted today:
Joy in the Morning, Whatever the Day
Satisfy us in the morning with your unfailing love, that we may sing for joy and be glad all our days. Psalm 91:14
The anthem at church this Sunday was "Joy in the Morning". It spoke of the joy there would be "on that day", presumably the day when God would make everything right, and good and beautiful. I thought that what I really care about is the joy that I need, and try to find, and that indeed is available to all of us, every morning. I thought of my waking thoughts earlier that morning, and my ongoing reflections on joy versus happiness. It seems time to share them.
My struggles often seem the worst in the middle of the night, and the very earliest waking hours of the morning. Sometimes I come to a place of peace before I rise; other times it comes when I am upright and moving forward, accomplishing some simple tasks, and settling down to speak and listen to the Lord, through prayer and His word. This morning he reminded me through this scripture verse of His power to give me the kind of joy that lasts, that sustains and satisfies, whatever else is going on in my life. It is His love that gives us the power to "sing for joy and be glad all our days."
I remember the joy of singing His praises on Sunday evenings in the worship team I love so much. There I always truly know that God is present in His praises, that singing the words of His faithfulness indeed has power to change our minds and emotions. And that is one time where an external experience, of worship, can change what is going on in the inside.
But in general what I believe we learn in the Christian life is that it is joy, not happiness, that sustains us. In the poem called "The Gift", that I quoted last week, there is the line "You have a breath without pain. It is called happiness." (William Stafford) And happiness is like that. It is not something lasting; it depends on circumstances.
The insight for the day on January 29th in the Bible League's 2009 Devotional Planner highlighted this counterpoint:
Joy is not the same thing as happiness. The word 'happy' comes from the word 'happenstance', which means "a chance happening." Happiness depends on happenings. Joy is a state of being. It flows from the inside out. Let God be the well from which your joy springs - no matter what the circumstances. Have you ever felt joy even when you weren't happy?
This reminds me again of a principle that has become ingrained into my thinking through the words of a mentor. I was taught to recognize when I was looking to "happenings", events, improvements, relationships, changes in others and situations, to make me feel better about my life. The saying " If....were better I would be okay" has come to sum up a dependence on "happenstance" to bring me or others a sense of well being, okay-ness, safety or joy. Learning to let go of that dependence has opened me up more to the capacity to find true joy in living, even if I am not happy.
I believe that is what God is calling us to when He says, through Paul, to "Be joyful always." (I Thessalonians 5:16), or through the psalmist reminding us of His capacity to empower us to do that through His unfailing love.
Joy in the Morning, Whatever the Day
Satisfy us in the morning with your unfailing love, that we may sing for joy and be glad all our days. Psalm 91:14
The anthem at church this Sunday was "Joy in the Morning". It spoke of the joy there would be "on that day", presumably the day when God would make everything right, and good and beautiful. I thought that what I really care about is the joy that I need, and try to find, and that indeed is available to all of us, every morning. I thought of my waking thoughts earlier that morning, and my ongoing reflections on joy versus happiness. It seems time to share them.
My struggles often seem the worst in the middle of the night, and the very earliest waking hours of the morning. Sometimes I come to a place of peace before I rise; other times it comes when I am upright and moving forward, accomplishing some simple tasks, and settling down to speak and listen to the Lord, through prayer and His word. This morning he reminded me through this scripture verse of His power to give me the kind of joy that lasts, that sustains and satisfies, whatever else is going on in my life. It is His love that gives us the power to "sing for joy and be glad all our days."
I remember the joy of singing His praises on Sunday evenings in the worship team I love so much. There I always truly know that God is present in His praises, that singing the words of His faithfulness indeed has power to change our minds and emotions. And that is one time where an external experience, of worship, can change what is going on in the inside.
But in general what I believe we learn in the Christian life is that it is joy, not happiness, that sustains us. In the poem called "The Gift", that I quoted last week, there is the line "You have a breath without pain. It is called happiness." (William Stafford) And happiness is like that. It is not something lasting; it depends on circumstances.
The insight for the day on January 29th in the Bible League's 2009 Devotional Planner highlighted this counterpoint:
Joy is not the same thing as happiness. The word 'happy' comes from the word 'happenstance', which means "a chance happening." Happiness depends on happenings. Joy is a state of being. It flows from the inside out. Let God be the well from which your joy springs - no matter what the circumstances. Have you ever felt joy even when you weren't happy?
This reminds me again of a principle that has become ingrained into my thinking through the words of a mentor. I was taught to recognize when I was looking to "happenings", events, improvements, relationships, changes in others and situations, to make me feel better about my life. The saying " If....were better I would be okay" has come to sum up a dependence on "happenstance" to bring me or others a sense of well being, okay-ness, safety or joy. Learning to let go of that dependence has opened me up more to the capacity to find true joy in living, even if I am not happy.
I believe that is what God is calling us to when He says, through Paul, to "Be joyful always." (I Thessalonians 5:16), or through the psalmist reminding us of His capacity to empower us to do that through His unfailing love.
January 31, 2009
joy in connecting time with the timeless
Here is my post for www.whateverhesays.blogspot.com. I'm off to see some ice fishing and do some cross country skiing...that's my use of time today!
Time, the Timeless, and the Timely.
My times are in your hands. Psalm 31:15
Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. Psalm 90:12
It seems my life is ever an inner dialogue about the interface between the timeless and the timely. Whether I reminisce about long dead family members and their impact on my thinking, the legacy of my mother's furniture and life, the complexities of missionary life or parenting, or simply trying to decide how to organize my basement and how that fits with the existential issues of life, a constant theme in my thinking and writing is expressed in this timeless phrase.
I search for it on Google to see how much it is used by others and discover over 700 references spanning make-up, architecture, decorating,cooking,clothing, poetry, religion, philosophy, music, and so on. I recall the seminar at a Christian writers' conference that impacted me the most. The author teaching the seminar is an editor of several top thoughtful Christian magazines. He urged that every article and piece of writing, especially Christian writing, needs to use the timely to hook in the reader in order to share timeless truths. In a sense that is what we do on this blog. We take the daily doings of ordinary life and weave in universal themes, eternal truths, and epic issues of concern.
I particularly enjoy finding Christian and human truth expressed in words that are not typical Christian jargon. There were many years of not doing that for me, but they left me feeling that much was left out of the expression of my experience and my observation of the experience of others. While being a regular worship leader who enjoys much of the modern music written for our contemporary services, I gravitate toward much of the secular music around to articulate the agonies of human existence and relationships. My faith has to be expressed in very honest ways.
Now that I am in the second half century of my own life, my concern for such honesty has only increased, even as my faith and assurance have deepened. And with them both has grown the passion to make the utmost use of every moment I have, while at the same time 'taking my time' to do things well, to only do what really needs to be done, and what I am truly equipped and called to do. Eliminating the superfluous needs to be a daily quest, whether it be in my basement, my thinking, or my dreams, while appreciating the opportunity to see a snowflake fall or watch a squirrel jump from tree to tree. Today is all I have. This moment is all I have. And I need to live each day and moment in that awareness, but with joy.
I have just discovered a writer who in this past century sought to live each day fully by writing poetry every morning. More than that, he was a Christian, a serious one. William Stafford wrote in a "deceptively simple" way, they say, but actually wove in complex themes as he mastered in his writing a blend of the timeless and the timely. He didn't need to say the name of Christ to teach a timeless truth. His life and his poetry said it for him. I offer one of his poems for us here today to remind us of the choice we are offered, each day and moment.
The Gift
Time wants to show you a different country. It's the one
that your life conceals, the one waiting outside
when curtains are drawn, the one Grandmother hinted at
in her crochet design, the one almost found
over at the edge of the music, after the sermon.
It's the way life is, and you have it, a few years given.
You get killed now and then, violated
in various ways. (And sometimes it's turn about).
You get tired of that. Long-suffering, you wait
and pray, and maybe good things come - maybe
the hurt slackens and you hardly feel it any more.
You have a breath without pain. It is called happiness.
It's a balance, the taking and passing along,
the composting of where you've been and how people
and weather treated you. It's a country where
you already are, bringing where you have been.
Time offers this gift in its millions of ways,
turning the world, moving the air, calling,
every morning, "Here, take it, it's yours."
William Stafford
Time, the Timeless, and the Timely.
My times are in your hands. Psalm 31:15
Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. Psalm 90:12
It seems my life is ever an inner dialogue about the interface between the timeless and the timely. Whether I reminisce about long dead family members and their impact on my thinking, the legacy of my mother's furniture and life, the complexities of missionary life or parenting, or simply trying to decide how to organize my basement and how that fits with the existential issues of life, a constant theme in my thinking and writing is expressed in this timeless phrase.
I search for it on Google to see how much it is used by others and discover over 700 references spanning make-up, architecture, decorating,cooking,clothing, poetry, religion, philosophy, music, and so on. I recall the seminar at a Christian writers' conference that impacted me the most. The author teaching the seminar is an editor of several top thoughtful Christian magazines. He urged that every article and piece of writing, especially Christian writing, needs to use the timely to hook in the reader in order to share timeless truths. In a sense that is what we do on this blog. We take the daily doings of ordinary life and weave in universal themes, eternal truths, and epic issues of concern.
I particularly enjoy finding Christian and human truth expressed in words that are not typical Christian jargon. There were many years of not doing that for me, but they left me feeling that much was left out of the expression of my experience and my observation of the experience of others. While being a regular worship leader who enjoys much of the modern music written for our contemporary services, I gravitate toward much of the secular music around to articulate the agonies of human existence and relationships. My faith has to be expressed in very honest ways.
Now that I am in the second half century of my own life, my concern for such honesty has only increased, even as my faith and assurance have deepened. And with them both has grown the passion to make the utmost use of every moment I have, while at the same time 'taking my time' to do things well, to only do what really needs to be done, and what I am truly equipped and called to do. Eliminating the superfluous needs to be a daily quest, whether it be in my basement, my thinking, or my dreams, while appreciating the opportunity to see a snowflake fall or watch a squirrel jump from tree to tree. Today is all I have. This moment is all I have. And I need to live each day and moment in that awareness, but with joy.
I have just discovered a writer who in this past century sought to live each day fully by writing poetry every morning. More than that, he was a Christian, a serious one. William Stafford wrote in a "deceptively simple" way, they say, but actually wove in complex themes as he mastered in his writing a blend of the timeless and the timely. He didn't need to say the name of Christ to teach a timeless truth. His life and his poetry said it for him. I offer one of his poems for us here today to remind us of the choice we are offered, each day and moment.
The Gift
Time wants to show you a different country. It's the one
that your life conceals, the one waiting outside
when curtains are drawn, the one Grandmother hinted at
in her crochet design, the one almost found
over at the edge of the music, after the sermon.
It's the way life is, and you have it, a few years given.
You get killed now and then, violated
in various ways. (And sometimes it's turn about).
You get tired of that. Long-suffering, you wait
and pray, and maybe good things come - maybe
the hurt slackens and you hardly feel it any more.
You have a breath without pain. It is called happiness.
It's a balance, the taking and passing along,
the composting of where you've been and how people
and weather treated you. It's a country where
you already are, bringing where you have been.
Time offers this gift in its millions of ways,
turning the world, moving the air, calling,
every morning, "Here, take it, it's yours."
William Stafford
January 24, 2009
joy in weaving together the past, the present, and the presence of memories
I've had special joy again creating this post for www.whateverhesays.blogspot.com. I am amazed how timing works. I had it in mind to use this poem, to share about my mother's death, and didn't know when I work it in. I never dreamed I would connect it with the buying of a new sofa! But somehow my furniture tales seem to offer me lots of fodder for this sort of thing. So here is another furniture tale..another treasure...perhaps a tear jerker for you as well as me...for this week.
More About Treasures - from a Heavenly Perspective
Our new couch arrived yesterday. You can see it as the featured bargain on www.thebrick.com. The Grace sofa. I loved the name, but didn't buy it for that. It is our very first new sofa, replacing the second Salvation Army thrift store one which did us well after the first SA one, both of which now live in the basement. The room really needed this new sofa, to match the quality,at least in looks, of the ancestral furniture that came after Mum's move from Windsor, and her final move to Heaven. I think she would approve of my choice. I did the best I could with the upper edge of the lower line of sofas. For many, this would not be a big deal. For me it was. Like when I moved that amazing antique family dresser into our bedroom, and mused about that two weeks ago. An astute observer of my life commented on how I had brought something of value into my heart, connecting the intimate bedroom with my heart. That really struck me, along with the whole experience of valuing things, and myself, and our home, and the connections between.
For years I prided myself on not having valuable stuff, yet somehow found it fitting that after years of getting by with second best I inherited so much beauty through my family line. As you have read, I have been learning to connect it with my spirituality, and my innermost being, for I never want to live out of harmony with the core of my being. So now it seems that these new treasures are some of the "treasures of darkness" the Lord promised me from Isaiah 45. From the darkness of much unhappiness in my family of origin I have been graced with what was beautiful. And I am finally taking that beauty deeply into my heart, allowing it to heal memories of much that was not beautiful in attitudes of those who, like these pieces of furniture, were giants in my life.
I have learned to understand that they did the best they could with what they had at the time. Their harshness and criticism came out of concern and the patterns of parenting they had received. But they were also reliable, solid, and sensible, like the furniture, and graceful in very practical ways. I had always appreciated that and relied upon it. Now I live with the daily memory of that in the midst of these reminders.
I've written before about knowing Mum went to join Dad in Heaven, about how it was hard to believe that sometimes because their faith was not very up front most of the time, and of the assurance I had in my heart of the final destination of all the family members known to me. That has been a constant relief and blessing to my heart, and will always be, until I go to join them one amazing day. And sometimes all of that brings tears to my eyes which I welcome in the midst of my otherwise rather stoic approach to life, another treasure (or curse) from my family line.
Such tears sprang hot to my cheeks as I read this lovely poem given to me after Christmas by a friend at church. Somehow a fuller meaning of my mother's presence in Heaven had not really registered. Yes, I knew intellectually that she would be healed and whole and happy, as I had never seen her before. It took this poem to break open that reality in a fresh way to me:
Merry Christmas from Heaven
Copyright 1990 by John Wm Mooney Jr.
I still hear the songs
I still see the lights
I still feel your love
on cold wintery nights
I still share your hopes
and all of your cares
I'll even remind you
to please say your prayers
I just want to tell you
you still make me proud
You stand head and shoulders
above all the crowd
Keep trying each moment
to stay in His grace
I came here before you
to help set your place
You don't have to be
perfect all of the time
He forgives you the slip
If you continue the climb
To my family and friends
please be thankful today
I'm still close beside you
In a new special way
I love you all dearly
now don't shed a tear
Cause I'm spending my
Christmas with Jesus this year.
The poem said what Mum probably always wanted to say, but the words hardly ever came. She thought she had to be perfect, so she put that on to me. She didn't really know what God's grace could do for her, and therefore for me, so I had to fight to find that for myself. Now I can relax and know that Grace has healed Mum. And yes, she is close beside me "in a new special way." Those words echo what she said before she went into surgery about fifteen months before her death, the surgery from which she never really recovered. As she said goodbye before they wheeled her away, she said "Wherever I am, I won't be far away." Those treasured words kept me going through all the hard moments that followed, through her anger and defiance, her confusion and distrust, until she finally surrendered her life into God's hands, as I held her in my arms, saying through my tears, "Good Mummy, good Mummy."
Now, as I rearrange the old furniture, or use the 150 year old teapots, or sit in Mum's favourite wing chair by our new Grace sofa, I can hear Mum speaking to me from Heaven, and say back to her again, "Good Mummy, good Mummy."
More About Treasures - from a Heavenly Perspective
Our new couch arrived yesterday. You can see it as the featured bargain on www.thebrick.com. The Grace sofa. I loved the name, but didn't buy it for that. It is our very first new sofa, replacing the second Salvation Army thrift store one which did us well after the first SA one, both of which now live in the basement. The room really needed this new sofa, to match the quality,at least in looks, of the ancestral furniture that came after Mum's move from Windsor, and her final move to Heaven. I think she would approve of my choice. I did the best I could with the upper edge of the lower line of sofas. For many, this would not be a big deal. For me it was. Like when I moved that amazing antique family dresser into our bedroom, and mused about that two weeks ago. An astute observer of my life commented on how I had brought something of value into my heart, connecting the intimate bedroom with my heart. That really struck me, along with the whole experience of valuing things, and myself, and our home, and the connections between.
For years I prided myself on not having valuable stuff, yet somehow found it fitting that after years of getting by with second best I inherited so much beauty through my family line. As you have read, I have been learning to connect it with my spirituality, and my innermost being, for I never want to live out of harmony with the core of my being. So now it seems that these new treasures are some of the "treasures of darkness" the Lord promised me from Isaiah 45. From the darkness of much unhappiness in my family of origin I have been graced with what was beautiful. And I am finally taking that beauty deeply into my heart, allowing it to heal memories of much that was not beautiful in attitudes of those who, like these pieces of furniture, were giants in my life.
I have learned to understand that they did the best they could with what they had at the time. Their harshness and criticism came out of concern and the patterns of parenting they had received. But they were also reliable, solid, and sensible, like the furniture, and graceful in very practical ways. I had always appreciated that and relied upon it. Now I live with the daily memory of that in the midst of these reminders.
I've written before about knowing Mum went to join Dad in Heaven, about how it was hard to believe that sometimes because their faith was not very up front most of the time, and of the assurance I had in my heart of the final destination of all the family members known to me. That has been a constant relief and blessing to my heart, and will always be, until I go to join them one amazing day. And sometimes all of that brings tears to my eyes which I welcome in the midst of my otherwise rather stoic approach to life, another treasure (or curse) from my family line.
Such tears sprang hot to my cheeks as I read this lovely poem given to me after Christmas by a friend at church. Somehow a fuller meaning of my mother's presence in Heaven had not really registered. Yes, I knew intellectually that she would be healed and whole and happy, as I had never seen her before. It took this poem to break open that reality in a fresh way to me:
Merry Christmas from Heaven
Copyright 1990 by John Wm Mooney Jr.
I still hear the songs
I still see the lights
I still feel your love
on cold wintery nights
I still share your hopes
and all of your cares
I'll even remind you
to please say your prayers
I just want to tell you
you still make me proud
You stand head and shoulders
above all the crowd
Keep trying each moment
to stay in His grace
I came here before you
to help set your place
You don't have to be
perfect all of the time
He forgives you the slip
If you continue the climb
To my family and friends
please be thankful today
I'm still close beside you
In a new special way
I love you all dearly
now don't shed a tear
Cause I'm spending my
Christmas with Jesus this year.
The poem said what Mum probably always wanted to say, but the words hardly ever came. She thought she had to be perfect, so she put that on to me. She didn't really know what God's grace could do for her, and therefore for me, so I had to fight to find that for myself. Now I can relax and know that Grace has healed Mum. And yes, she is close beside me "in a new special way." Those words echo what she said before she went into surgery about fifteen months before her death, the surgery from which she never really recovered. As she said goodbye before they wheeled her away, she said "Wherever I am, I won't be far away." Those treasured words kept me going through all the hard moments that followed, through her anger and defiance, her confusion and distrust, until she finally surrendered her life into God's hands, as I held her in my arms, saying through my tears, "Good Mummy, good Mummy."
Now, as I rearrange the old furniture, or use the 150 year old teapots, or sit in Mum's favourite wing chair by our new Grace sofa, I can hear Mum speaking to me from Heaven, and say back to her again, "Good Mummy, good Mummy."
January 17, 2009
joy in sharing intuitive and spiritual truth through more metaphors
So....lots is happening....lots of truth and growth, ups and downs...I don't try to express it all publicly anymore...that is good. But when I do, it brings even more joy than before. I try harder to craft my words, and examine the words and concepts. And so there is greater fruit. Such is the case with my latest post for www.whateverhesays.blogspot.com. I waited, because of life's happenings, to post it until now, although it was ready there yesterday to appear at 5 a.m. on the blog. Now that I post it here, it has already had some very positive feedback, something that often happens, but somehow today's meant even more. You can read it on the comments on that blog. But I worked hard on this post, even though it came easily. And it was full of intuitive truth about my own life. Not that my others haven't been, but this one was especially meaningful, because it comes out of a longtime metaphor for me. Even then, it is only a snippet of the truth we can get from tree metaphors. I will explore that more I am sure. A whole blog could be dedicated to the truth from trees!!!! Here it is:
The Tree God Knows
Here in Muskoka winter I muse about trees outside our window.I can look at them many ways: they can be beautiful and artistic as they glitter in the sunlight. Deciduous trees can look lonely and stark without their leaves in barren brown-ness. Evergreens stand out so much more in the winter, their plenteous boughs preserving the essence of Christmas trees throughout the bleakness of winter months. As I drive up the highway I notice trees in winter in ways I often don't in summer. The cold and starkness of life highlight the strength and individual outlines of trees. Summer shows their composite foliage; autumn overwhelms with brilliant contrasts of colours, but the story then is more of the leaves than the trees. So winter is a time to see the true outline of trees, their basic shape and the beauty or not thereof.
Such is true of all of us. It takes the hard seasons to show what we are made of, whether our lives are truly in balance and we have what it takes to withstand the tests and trials of time. That balance comes from strong and deep roots, well proportioned trunks and gracefully arranged branches.
Trees abound as metaphors for personhood throughout literature and scripture. Psalm 1 reminds us that the righteous person is "like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season, and whose leaf does not wither." (v. 2b.) Trees appear in our dreams and we instinctively know what they mean. We can see a painting of a tree and identify with it. A friend once wrote a poem about me as a bonsai, an intricately formed miniature tree, recognizing how life had stunted my growth in certain ways, yet kept the form and grace. That was how she saw me. God spoke to me in a different way using the tree image just a year ago.
Of course He knew that I love to think of myself as a tree, that I long to be an oak of righteousness. He has called me one for many years. But one day He wanted to show me something more specific. I was sitting prayerfully with my trained spiritual "friend" and she asked me to ask God to give me a picture in my mind of how He saw me at that time. Instantly I saw a childish drawing of a tree. The trunk was thick and strong, but not well proportioned. It was far too wide for the height of the tree. The leaves were bright green, obviously on bushy branches, but no fruit or lovely graceful branches were visible. It was like a green lollipop atop a huge brown stick. Alive, strong, very strong, but not beautiful, graceful, appropriate or able to grow up well. It was a picture of me: strong but defensive, out of proportion, needing pruning, deeper roots, and greater upward and outward growth in the branches, not the trunk.
Then she asked me to ask God to show me what He wanted to do with me. Again I instantly saw the tree in the picture moving. The roots began stretching deeper and wider, the branches extended gracefully out in many directions, and the trunk grew taller, lost many layers of defensive bark. The whole tree became well proportioned.
In this past year that kind of growth has been taking place. I have often thought of those pictures, and been grateful for their dynamic and multi-faceted, intuitive truth. The growth continues, and always will. And many times, like today, I am reminded of the need for the storms and stress in my life to foster that growth. Just on a day when I was so frustrated with the continuing storms I read this poem:
The wind that blows can never kill
The tree God plants;
It bloweth east, it bloweth west,
the tender leaves have little rest,
But any wind that blows is best.
The tree that God plants
Strikes deeper root, grows higher still,
Spreads greater boughs, for God's good will
Meets all its wants.
There is no storm hath power to blast
The tree God knows;
No thunderbolt, nor hurricane;
When they are spent, it doth remain,
The tree God knows,
Through every tempest standeth fast,
And from its first day to its last
Still fairer grows.
quoted in Streams in the Desert
The Tree God Knows
Here in Muskoka winter I muse about trees outside our window.I can look at them many ways: they can be beautiful and artistic as they glitter in the sunlight. Deciduous trees can look lonely and stark without their leaves in barren brown-ness. Evergreens stand out so much more in the winter, their plenteous boughs preserving the essence of Christmas trees throughout the bleakness of winter months. As I drive up the highway I notice trees in winter in ways I often don't in summer. The cold and starkness of life highlight the strength and individual outlines of trees. Summer shows their composite foliage; autumn overwhelms with brilliant contrasts of colours, but the story then is more of the leaves than the trees. So winter is a time to see the true outline of trees, their basic shape and the beauty or not thereof.
Such is true of all of us. It takes the hard seasons to show what we are made of, whether our lives are truly in balance and we have what it takes to withstand the tests and trials of time. That balance comes from strong and deep roots, well proportioned trunks and gracefully arranged branches.
Trees abound as metaphors for personhood throughout literature and scripture. Psalm 1 reminds us that the righteous person is "like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season, and whose leaf does not wither." (v. 2b.) Trees appear in our dreams and we instinctively know what they mean. We can see a painting of a tree and identify with it. A friend once wrote a poem about me as a bonsai, an intricately formed miniature tree, recognizing how life had stunted my growth in certain ways, yet kept the form and grace. That was how she saw me. God spoke to me in a different way using the tree image just a year ago.
Of course He knew that I love to think of myself as a tree, that I long to be an oak of righteousness. He has called me one for many years. But one day He wanted to show me something more specific. I was sitting prayerfully with my trained spiritual "friend" and she asked me to ask God to give me a picture in my mind of how He saw me at that time. Instantly I saw a childish drawing of a tree. The trunk was thick and strong, but not well proportioned. It was far too wide for the height of the tree. The leaves were bright green, obviously on bushy branches, but no fruit or lovely graceful branches were visible. It was like a green lollipop atop a huge brown stick. Alive, strong, very strong, but not beautiful, graceful, appropriate or able to grow up well. It was a picture of me: strong but defensive, out of proportion, needing pruning, deeper roots, and greater upward and outward growth in the branches, not the trunk.
Then she asked me to ask God to show me what He wanted to do with me. Again I instantly saw the tree in the picture moving. The roots began stretching deeper and wider, the branches extended gracefully out in many directions, and the trunk grew taller, lost many layers of defensive bark. The whole tree became well proportioned.
In this past year that kind of growth has been taking place. I have often thought of those pictures, and been grateful for their dynamic and multi-faceted, intuitive truth. The growth continues, and always will. And many times, like today, I am reminded of the need for the storms and stress in my life to foster that growth. Just on a day when I was so frustrated with the continuing storms I read this poem:
The wind that blows can never kill
The tree God plants;
It bloweth east, it bloweth west,
the tender leaves have little rest,
But any wind that blows is best.
The tree that God plants
Strikes deeper root, grows higher still,
Spreads greater boughs, for God's good will
Meets all its wants.
There is no storm hath power to blast
The tree God knows;
No thunderbolt, nor hurricane;
When they are spent, it doth remain,
The tree God knows,
Through every tempest standeth fast,
And from its first day to its last
Still fairer grows.
quoted in Streams in the Desert
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