I Want What You Want

Dear God, I just want what You want. 

Is that too much to ask?

I'd like to have it tomorrow, 

And wrapped in green with a bow 

But I'm sure that won't be a problem. 

I just want what You want, God. 

Your way is always best. 

I'm pretty sure the path will have

These turns and those bumps

But of course, You're the one in control. 

I truly want what You want, God. 

It's so hard to sit and wait patiently.

While I wait I'll just paint in a few ideas, 

Get a picture of how this might look

But I'm waiting on You, really. 

O Father God, I just want what You want.

I know You have it all in Your hand. 

You might use red

With brown string?

There's a good chance 

Of steep hills

And deep valleys?

You threw all my

Pretty pictures

In the trash?

Well, yes.

Of course. 

That's what I said.

I want what You want...

I think. 

What is that?

That's not how wanting what 

You want looks?

Oh. Yeah, I did say I would make myself 

Available. 

That's not what making 

Myself available means?

You're saying being available

Means letting You choose the colors

And paint the pictures?

It means allowing You to

Map out the terrain?

Oh, I see. 

But You care about me?

You know my needs better than I do?

You see the future?

You have my best in mind?

I can trust You, right?

Yes, Father, yes. 

I believe you. 

I really am making myself available. 

I confess I have no idea 

What that might look like,

But I want what You want. 

Really. 

First Day Of Two Thousand Eighteen

It started out bright and serene,
A day that was fit for a queen --
   The smallest of plans,
   No schedule demands;
First Day Of Two Thousand Eighteen.

But in a fate twist unforseen,
Straight downward the day did careen.
   "I don't feel the best,"
   My pale son confessed;
First Day Of Two Thousand Eighteen.

He soon turned from pale to light green,
A bucket completed the scene.
   But that was just one,
   We'd only begun;
First Day Of Two Thousand Eighteen.

As fast as the dominoes lean,
Then topple in piles as you've seen.
   Another turned pale,
   "I'm sick!" Came the wail;
First Day Of Two Thousand Eighteen.

The night was a sleepless routine,
Of visits made to the latrine.
   Both upstairs and down,
   The flushing did sound;
First Day Of Two Thousand Eighteen.

The episodes numbered 'umpteen',
And mother became a machine.
   To steady the bowl,
   And comfort the soul;
First Day Of Two Thousand Eighteen.

The smells and the sounds were                                                           obscene,
The whole business screamed out                                                       "unclean!"
   Would night never end?
   The sun not ascend?
First Day Of Two Thousand Eighteen.

The mother, she vowed to houseclean,
Till all would be fresh and pristine.
   At last they all slept,
   As light upward crept;
First Day Of Two Thousand Eighteen.

The sun rose on folks pale and lean,
With no thought for fancy cuisine.
   And I will not lie,
   We sure did not cry,
   As we said Good-Bye,
First Day Of Two Thousand Eighteen!

Words

Sometimes words spill rapidly,

Like water tumbling over each other

To cascade down a waterfall 

With thoughts and ideas to stimulate the mind.

Sometimes words flow smoothly,

Their beauty and eloquence an effortless picture,

Painting meaning and life and inspiration for the reader.

Sometimes words march steadily,
Their tidily joined hands

Bringing clarity and order
To a meaningless jumble
 Of confusing thoughts and ideas.

Sometimes words come haltingly,
Their questions looming
 Larger than answers and
Their meanings hesitant and uncertain,
Searching timidly for affirmation.

Sometimes words must be coaxed forth,
Painfully, painstakingly
Encouraged to drop carefully
From hidden to exposed
Revealing what is bottled inside.

Sometimes words remain unspoken,
Their mystery hidden
From generations to come
Their silence leaving questions unanswered, ideas untried, problems unresolved, stories untold.

Sometimes silence is golden;
Least said, soonest mended.
But a word fitly spoken
Is like apples of gold
In pictures of silver.
Proverbs 25:11

When The Sun Shines

When the sun shines

on a winter day in Ohio

you take note.

I'm not complaining

but there it is,

Winters in Ohio are Grey.

This afternoon the sun 

burst through the clouds 

and my heart sang.

 I grabbed my camera...uh, phone...

and started clicking, capturing random patches of light around the house.

I reveled in the bright rays 

contrasting with dark shadows

and the imagery took me to the 

One Who Is Light.

This is the result when the sun shines.....

"... I am the light of the world. 

whoever follows me 

will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life." John 8:12

"Every good and perfect gift

is from above,

coming down from

 the Father of the heavenly lights, 

who does not change

 like shifting shadows." James 1:17

"But ye are a chosen people,

A royal priesthood,

A holy nation,

God's special possession,

that you may declare the praises 

of him who called you out of darkness into His wonderful light." I Peter 2:9

"Your eye is the lamp of your body.

When your eyes are healthy,

your whole body also is full of light.

But when they are unhealthy,

your body also is full of darkness.

See to it, then, that the light within you is not darkness." Luke 11:34-35

"The light shines in darkness,

And the darkness has not 

overcome it." John 1:5

"The unfolding of your words

gives light.

It gives understanding

to the simple." Psalm 119:130

"... God is light;

in Him there is 

no darkness at all." 

I John 1:5

May your week be filled with light!

On Mornings When Mom Has A Headache

On mornings when 

Mom Has A Headache,

I'll tell you a tale that is true --

A lot is at stake,

Commit no mistake,

You'll be wrong whatever you do.

On mornings when 

Mom Has A Headache,

I'll tell you just how it will go --

You won't get a break,

From the time you awake,

The reason, you may never know.

On mornings when

Mom Has A Headache,

I'll tell you just how you will feel --

Your heart it will quake,

Your boots, they will shake,

You'll wonder, what is the big deal?

On mornings when

Mom Has A Headache,

I'll tell you a secret or three --

Small things take the cake,

All grace she'll forsake, 

No patience you're likely to see.

On mornings when

Mom Has A Headache,

I'll tell you, good feelings depart --

Your smile will be fake,

Your outlook opaque,

Your day will not have a good start.

On mornings when

Mom Has A Headache,

I'll tell you when you get to school --

Your teacher will take,

The brunt of the ache,

If something does not overrule.

On mornings when

Mom Has A Headache,

I'll tell you what turns things around --

"I'm sorry" will make,

A 180 retake,

And pick your day up from the ground!

----------------------------------------------

Written by a guilty mother of five.

Extravagant Love

Oh Lord my God,

When I in awesome wonder

Consider all the world's 

Thy hands have made...

Could we with ink

The ocean fill,

And were the skies

Of parchment made,

Were every stalk

On earth a quill,

And every man a scribe by trade, 

To write the love of God above

Would drain the ocean dry

Nor could the scroll contain the whole

Though stretched from sky to sky...

Then sings my soul

My Saviour God to thee

How great thou art

How great thou art!

--------------------

Friday morning Chris and I got up at 5:30 a.m. to watch the sunrise over the ocean. It was absolutely spectacular. I wished for a choir of hundreds of voices to lift their's with mine in singing praise and adoration to the God who created such majestic beauty! 

He didn't have to. 

He could have made our world drab, colorless and all the same. But He didn't. He absolutely didn't. That spells Love to me -- beautiful, glorious, extravagant Love.

This Do In Remembrance

               "How Deep The Father's Love For Us"

How deep the Father's love for us
How vast beyond all measure
That He should give His only Son
To make a wretch His treasure

How great the pain of searing loss
The Father turns His face away
As wounds which mar the Chosen One
Bring many sons to glory

Behold the man upon a cross
My sin upon His shoulders
Ashamed, I hear my mocking voice
Call out among the scoffers

It was my sin that held Him there
Until it was accomplished
His dying breath has brought me life
I know that it is finished

I will not boast in anything
No gifts, no power, no wisdom
But I will boast in Jesus Christ
His death and resurrection

Why should I gain from His reward?
I cannot give an answer
But this I know with all my heart
His wounds have paid my ransom

---------------------

Worshiping this morning........

"Take, eat: this is my body, which is broken for you:"

"This cup is the new testament in my blood, which is shed for you."

             Sitting in the early morning silence,                      anticipating church and the words --

"This do in remembrance of me..."

Spring Is Coming

Spring is coming, slowly coming,

Blowing in on windy gales.

It is coming, hope is promised,

Sprouting green on hills and dales.

Spring is coming, softly coming,

Creeping in on windowsill.

It is coming, sunlight streaming,

Taking with it winter's chill.

Spring is coming, bravely coming,

Splashing in with rain and cloud.

It is coming, do not doubt it,

Mud and showers tho they shroud.

Spring is coming, gently coming,

Pushing in through dead and old.

It is coming, dash of color,

Statement making, see it bold.

Spring is coming, clearly coming,

Calling loudly, Hark the sound!

It is coming, hear it's singing,

Spring is coming, signs abound!

PS. I had included a lovely little video clip of the noisy spring peepers in the swamp across the road but it refused to cooperate so use your imagination.......

The Old Lady I'll Meet

* As I sat with church ladies for our bi-annual share time before communion, I was blessed by hearing the hearts of all different ages. For some reason I especially noted the older ladies in our group and felt blessed to have examples before me of the old lady I want to be some day. In the days that followed I've been pondering how I'll become the old lady I want to meet......

One day I will meet an old lady,
The lady I meet will be me!
When her eyes meet mine and I see her,
I wonder what sort she will be?

Will her eyes hold a twinkle of cheer,
With wrinkles turned up in a smile?
Or will I see eyes dark with sadness,
And wrinkles downcast all the while?

Will I sense a heart of acceptance,
Content with the loss age has brought?
Or will I sense doubt and depression,
Discouraged by all that is not?

Will I see some act to encourage,
A kind word of helpful good cheer?
Or will I see self-centered boredom,
With no thought for friends far or near?

Will toils of long life prove to soften,
To season with wisdom and grace?
Or will I find cynical hardness,
A sour and bitter, sad place?

I wonder if children will love her,
Will they love to knock on her door?
Or will their loud noise be a bother,
A thing she can't take anymore?

Will she still be friends with her husband,
A love strong through all of the years?
Or will time with him be a bother,
Annoyance that drives her to tears?

One day I will meet an old lady,
The lady I meet will be me!
When her eyes meet mine and I see her,
Will I like the things that I see?

I wonder, what makes a sweet lady,
A lady who's years make her old?
I wonder how life and it's lessons,
Turn out a sweet heart pure as gold?

I wonder what tips she would give me,
What words of advice she would say?
Somehow I expect she would tell me,
"You'd better be starting today!"

"Those traits that you hope to be finding,
You'd better be practicing now!
They will not appear just like magic,
They do not just happen somehow."

Someday I will meet an old lady,
The lady I meet will be me!
I'd better consider my actions,
If right now is really the key.

This Man

This is the man who dries my tears,
Who makes me laugh,
Who calms my fears.

This is the man who goes off to work,
Rain, cold, or snow
Don't cause him to shirk!

This is the man who pays all the bills,
Who fixes the cars,
Builds houses on hills....

This is the man who cradles my babies,
Who teaches and trains them,
But loves best to tease.

This is the man who's flaws irritate,
Yet life without him,
I can't contemplate!

This is the man who plans big surprises,
And all of my questions
So aptly advises.

This is the man who likes to go shopping,
Who tackles a job,
No obstacles blocking.

This is the man who teaches his children,
Involves them in working,
Both ladies and young men.

This is the man who makes a fine cook,
Who chooses a food,
And follows the book.

This is the man who has made a choice,
That though he may fail,
He'll follow God's voice.

This is the man God chose me to meet,
We do life together,
He makes me complete!

Happy Birthday to This Man ......... I thank God for him!

God is Light, and God is Love

It was at a place called Faith Mission Home, down in the dungeon of a basement in the little hole in the wall called "C School" where the words in the simple, old, black song book suddenly spoke their truth. Once upon a time, a very long time ago, I sat down there every day, you see, at my round table with the chair in the "teacher" position. All but one of the children who entered the door and sat across from me were unable to speak, thus my day often passed without a lot of verbal conversation.

So it was, that I took to looking through the old, black song book in my spare moments. I loved to sing, and that dear old song book, The Christian Hymnal, held a link to home, as that was the song book we used at the church I attended from little up. I would flip through the pages, pencil in hand, and check off every number I knew from Sunday after Sunday spent singing from the faithful, old, black book.

One day a little song suddenly grabbed my attention. Number 86 it was, and it only took up half the page. The words had never really penetrated my consciousness before, but suddenly, there in that little classroom, they seemed to glow with depth and meaning:

God is love, His mercy brightens
All the paths in which we move;
Bliss He forms, and woe He lightens;
God is light, and God is love.

Chance and change are busy ever;
Worlds decay, and ages move;
But His mercy waneth never;
God is light, and God is love.

E'en the hour that darkest seemeth
Will His changeless goodness prove;
From the mist His brightness streameth;
God is light, and God is love.

He with earthly cares entwineth
Hope and comfort from above;
Everywhere His glory shineth;
God is light, and God is love.

Yesterday morning in church I held another song book. It was black in color, yes, but not the same dear old book I grew up with. It's pages are not as familiar to me, it doesn't hold all the old, familiar songs of my childhood. But, there it was - that song! As the voices around me sang out the familiar words, I sat and soaked up the glorious beauty and let the tears trickle down my face, and I remembered C School and the day those words broke through to my consciousness ...... Take a moment. Read them again. They are beautiful!

A Reply to Winter's Coming (By a Lovable Scamp)

In the air there’s something different,
From the way it’s been before.
Creeping in and slowly pushing,
Out the summer heat we bore.

I have positively loved it,
for the summer I abhorred.
And with open arms embraced it,
What a blessing from the Lord!

Seeing leaves around me falling,
Makes me want to skip and dance.
Though the silent march of autumn,
From my wife, elicits rants.

Give me chilly days of autumn,
Not the scorching summer heat.
Trade my sunburn for some goose bumps,
And my only thought is: SWEET!

Gone the sunburned arms and faces,
Gone the sweat drenched piles of clothes.
Gone lawn mowing and weed eating,
Gone the garden’s work by rows.

In come balmy days and windy,
In come rains the earth to wash.
In come all the crops of harvest,
Orange pumpkins yellow squash.

Walls around us do protect us,
From Jack Frost and all his chill.
See the pictures that he left us,
On the mornings cold and still.

Some complain about the clothing,
Boots and mittens, coats and more.
That must decorate their figures
‘Fore they make it out the door.

But to me it is refreshing,
Jump from bed the day to meet.
Of the seasons I have lived in,
Autumn simply can’t be beat!

Do you say that I am looney?
My wife does. She calls me mad.
But I only say, “Be thankful”,
And, “Come on! It’s not THAT bad”.

After all, you have these four walls,
And a roof over your head.
You have food and heat and family,
And no outhouse I might add!

And besides I can’t deny it
As the cool of autumn starts,
Summer’s gone and I am HAPPY,
Welcome autumn to these parts!

Winter's Coming

There's this feeling that is coming,
It's been threatening me sore.
Creeping in around the corners,
Peering in through tight shut doors.

I have positively snubbed it,
It's been pointedly ignored.
I have turned my coldest shoulder,
It must know it's not adored!

Still, it's coming resolutely,
There's no stopping it's advance.
Seems nobody can withstand it,
Even me with all my rants.

In it comes with chilling fingers,
Forcing shoes upon my feet.
Causing goose bumps, chills and shivers,
Bringing thoughts I can't repeat!

Gone the days of flapping washlines,
Gone the sunbleached towels and clothes.
Gone the flip flops and the sandals,
Gone the freedom summer knows.

In come rain drenched piles of laundry,
In come make shift lines for wash.
In come muddy boots and jackets,
In come four walls that will squash.

Walls that daily draw us closer,
As the air grows colder still.
Walls that threaten to engulf us,
Keeping us against our will.

How this feeling shrinks our quarters,
With it's pile of coats galore.
Stacks of shoes, then boots and mittens,
Scarves and hats .... need I say more?

Mornings call for cups of warmness,
Night time brings those chilly sheets!
And that unforgiving shudder
When one's skin the toilet meets!

You may say that I'm complaining,
You may say it's not so bad.
You may say I should be thankful,
Count my blessings just a tad.

After all, I have these four walls,
And a roof over my head.
I have food and heat and family,
And no outhouse in a shed!

Still, I can't deny this feeling,
This sharp sinking of my heart,
As the winter comes a creeping,
And I see the warmth depart!

It Is What It Is

Thoughts after hearing this Elizabeth Elliot quote along with my husband's favorite response to life: "It is what it is."
*******************************
"God is preparing you for what God is preparing you for." -Elizabeth Elliot
Life happens
We wonder,
question,
struggle,
guess, ponder, speculate.....
Why this? Why now? Why me? Why?
Maybe He wants to....
Maybe this will.......
Maybe now we'll.......
Life happens
"We trust our Father", so we say.
But we sure would like to understand His scheme....
Today.
Life happens
What if It Is What It Is? What if we
Don't Need To Know?
What if we sat still and let our hearts grow?
Grow in love,
In obedience,
In grace, in patience,
In time spent seeking His face......
Life happens
Maybe It Is What It Is.
Maybe doing what we know is all that God asks,
Mundane,
Meaningless,
Ordinary tasks.
Life happens
And while we obey,
While we follow, and do what we know.
Without grappling so
For answers,
And reasons,
And figuring out His Scheme.....
Suppose what He is preparing us for
Happens?


____________________________________________________________
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I'm Getting Older

I must be getting old. Older every day! Why, when I comb my hair, I'm even finding grey! Sledding holds no thrill these days and who'd have ever thot that I would beg "Please, no donuts in the parking lot!"? I hold my breath when children walk too close to the edge, against such chicken heartedness I thot I'd took a pledge! Yes, I must be getting old. Older every day! But some things still turn me young, no matter what I say. The other day I picked a book from off the rows and rows and brought it home...what happened next my heart age truly shows! Two very late nights later, the book lays closed and done. I'm still 16 with a good book and story just begun! Still no self denial, still no self control, and yes, I'm getting older - those late nights took their toll! Still, that rush of reading words, that same old twinge of guilt, "I'll just read another chapter" as good intentions wilt... My bleary eyes come morning, a small, small price to pay to feel that young girl feeling, cause I'm older every day! :)

Fleeting Summer Days

Days fly by - Bright days, grey days, listen to what I say days. Wet days, dry days, make me laugh and cry days. Hot days, cool days, getting ready for school days. Bean days, corn days, almost can't be borne days. Short days, long days, heart is full of song days. Slow days, fast days, what if these are last days? Cleaning days, mopping days, shopping til we're dropping days. Washing days, cooking days, wonder how we're looking days. Good days, sad days, glad I'm not the dad days ... then there are the bad days, wish I WAS the dad days! Quiet days, loud days, lonely in the crowd days. Grumpy days, cheery days, these things make me weary days. Gone days, home days, make me want to roam days. Busy days, lazy days, must be going crazy days. Sick days, well days, I am gonna tell days. Fussy days, happy days, sorry that I'm snappy days. Humble days, proud days, thoughts that make a cloud days. Work days, rest days, put you to the test days, knowing that I'm blessed days, "These years are the best" days!

Not to complain or anything, but....All the Time?

Do I have to stay engaged all the time? Always check that whining voice, always choose the better choice, always keeping up w/ duties all the time? Do I have to stay in tune all the time? Always sending up a prayer, always set to do and dare, always loving, always caring all the time? Do I have to count the gifts all the time? Always when I wipe that nose, always when I clean those toes, always cooking, always cleaning all the time? Do I have to be consistent all the time? Always spank that naughty child, always answer meek and mild, always say my "no" is "no" all the time? Do I have to be a model all the time? Always show a cheerful face, always do my deeds w/ grace, always teach them how to live all the time? Do I have to think of others all the time? Always put the others first, always quench another's thirst, always self-less, always giving all the time? Do I have to be on duty all the time? Always there to answer questions, always ready with suggestions, does life have to be so *daily* all the time?