Good morning, everyone! My book Divine Encounters…Kindle version though Amazon is now FREE today through March 5th. Please head on over with the link provided and grab a copy while the promo is on and feel free to re blog and share. Happy reading and have a beautiful and blessed day!
Christianity
Memories
All is quiet this morning in the forest and meadow surrounding the cabin. A gentle breath of wind shushes through the meadow grasses and whispers through the pine branches.
Pinks and orangey yellow streaks are breaking just above the treetops announcing that the sun is on its way. Nature’s alarm clock. Soon the morning creatures will stir, scout, and begin their breakfast journeys.
Warming pine and that distinctive mountain scent wafts and swirls in the chill morning air, reminding me of long-ago summer mornings at a favorite campground in the mountains. I can see, hear, and smell it all in my mind – the bossy scrub jays shouting and squawking as they flit from tree to tree, cocking an alert black eye at the wooden table in case some of the breakfast fixings tumble off. The smokey scent of the testy, cold campfire that fights to get going again in the morning, reminds me of my dad who would mess with it until it was hot and roaring, so we could toast crescent rolls on a stick over the fire.
My steamy coffee warms my chilled hands, as I sit on the deck overlooking the drowsy meadow. The sun is higher now and beautiful streaks of sunlight boldly push through the tree branches. The rays of light are ethereal and sacred; the Creator at work bringing beauty to the morning. The way the light beams fall on the meadow and through the trees reminds me of times spent hiking – just He and I – where hurts and wounds were poured out in raw honesty as Truth and Healing flooded in to soothe, heal, and mend what was broken. Divine encounters.
Breakfast accompanies me to the deck. The homey scent of pancakes, bacon, and coffee mingling with the scent of pine, sparks a memory of my grandma making breakfast on a Saturday morning. The scent of pine trees was always present and is a treasured undercurrent to my memories of her. How happy and exciting it felt to be in her home, surrounded by woods, good food and the squirrels’ feet pattering across the roof. Safe. Home. Content.
The sun is making its way across the sky, so it’s time for a hike to the lake to see who is stirring and fussing about this morning. Always an adventure!
The strewn pine needles are soft and comfy underfoot. Cracks and twig-snaps along the edges of the trail accompany me as I make my way along the well-worn path. The rustling and murmurs of the woods is comforting and peaceful. Nature is quiet, but it’s not. Calm and restful, yet busy and purposeful as birds and watchful animals go about their business.
The lake will peek into view around this next bend in the path. The familiarity invites a feeling of nostalgia – wistful happiness with a tinge melancholy that doesn’t want to be overlooked and dismissed – wishing that time would stop so the safety and peace of the memories would live on and on, drowning out the stress, noise and unknown of what’s ahead.
There it is – the lake! Life is in full swing here with ducks and geese gliding along the smooth water, snipping at bugs, and nibbling on grasses along the shore. Their contented chuckles and fussing drift over the water as they chat over their breakfast.
A creature rambling through the reeds searching for a snack makes slippery, muddy sounds along the bank near an ancient tree. A long-abandoned rope swing, frayed, tattered and limp tosses meekly in the light breeze that’s beginning to ruffle the water.
Sitting under the shady branches with the fishy, watery scent of the lake breeze fluffing my hair, I recall the excitement of fishing at another lake in the mountains with my grandpa. The careful choosing of bait, adding the weights and a bright red bobber. Time seemed to slow as the line was cast, reeled, and repeated over the course of a warm summer afternoon – the same breeze with an earthy, fishy lake water scent keeping the worst of the heat at bay. The memory of it makes me smile.
Feeling dozy, I lie back on the blanket I brought and close my eyes for a spell. The earthiness of the lake combined with the close warmth of the afternoon fills my mind with much needed peace and I nap for a bit, letting childhood memories of cloud watching and camping take me away.
Startled awake by the fussy chatter of a grey squirrel in the branches above, I stretch, gather up my things and head back to the cabin. What a beautiful way to spend a lazy afternoon. Looking to the sky, I see the sun beginning to make its descent.
Relaxing on the deck after a quick dinner of grilled chicken and homemade potato salad, I sip a lovely cup of herbal tea as the sun showcases it final burst of color before setting behind the treetops.
The forest and meadow quiet into evening and the first pinprick of stars make their appearance. As the night gentles and cools, I grab an old quilt off the chair. It feels safe to be wrapped up and warm this chilly evening. There are unknowns, mysteries and strange sounds that move around me in the now dark forest, but I don’t feel afraid. Gazing up at the stars, a familiar feeling of being deeply loved washes over me. You created these stars and heavenly bodies, placing them just so in the night sky – giving direction to the weary traveler and bringing light to one who feels lost. When I felt tiny and insignificant in a vast sea of humanity, You reached out to me with lovely bursts of light breaking through the darkness and spoke to my soul of hope, purpose, and safety. You still see me. The lovely carpet of stars in the dark night sky continues to speak of love, peace, and warmth on the quiet deck of a cabin in the woods. Beautiful memories of healing, redemption and above all, hope.
Beginnings
Happy New Year’s Eve! I wonder how you are doing in these strange, limbo, off kilter in-between days – where the festive fanfare and anticipation of Christmas is fading and a new year of the unknown looms large? Where the once joyful, nostalgia of a decorated mantle, fragrant lit-up tree and Christmas music begins to grate just a touch because it’s lost the excitement and build up of emotions that only the holidays bring us…
It’s a strange and uncomfortable feeling each year. I never quite know what to do with it or what space to give it. What does it want from us and how do we reconcile and allow the deflated feelings of loss, nostalgia, let down and possibly regret co-mingle with the wonder, anticipation, and adventure of a brand-new year?
I am not one for making new year’s resolutions. I have new things I want to explore in this new season of life as an empty nester and some habits I’d like to redirect. I have plans for a second book, setting healthy boundaries in my relationships, meeting new people and some volunteering. All good things. There are specific words that over the past few weeks consistently pop into my mind. Change. Flexible. Gentle. Trust.
I am choosing to give these words space and permission to enter into 2023 with me. It isn’t easy. I want to know all the who, what, where, when, why and how. I like to rehearse, plan, and plot it out because that is what I usually do. It’s my M.O. It gives the façade of safety, but if I’m honest, it is based in fear and worry.
These words – change, flexible, gentle, trust – are not words I associate with myself – often quite the opposite. However, this year they fill me with curiosity and a sense of adventure; a sense of awe because I know that Jesus is standing at the threshold of my 2023. His scarred hands reaching for mine asking me to let go of regret, worry, expectations (especially of myself) and control. I’m being asked to trust Him with all that I see coming, all the worst-case scenarios that my mind likes to create, all the what-ifs and futile attempts to fix, control, and protect. He’s asking me to trust Him with myself and my loved ones.
Do I truly believe He has plans to prosper and not to harm, plans for hope and a future that is good, safe, and exactly what is needed? Yes, I do believe that. I want to learn to stop trusting in my own short-sighted understanding and in all ways acknowledge that He will direct my path and my family’s path. Will this be easy and trial free? No, life is hard, and things happen. Will I never allow worry, a stray wild thought, fear, or the need to control overwhelm me and set me back a bit? No. I won’t do this perfectly, but I will try to be gentle with my soul. Will I feel all the feels that go with living in this world and bumping up against others? Yes.
My hope for this year is that when situations and feelings knock at my heart’s door, I will learn to give them space, sit with them, and see them (yell at them, if needed) allowing them to teach me and letting them go into His hands.
I will pray this scripture over myself and my family in 2023 and wait in anticipation to see prayers answered, paths straightened, fear bow at His name, joy restored and peace to have room to heal and calm my heart. And rest, blessed rest.
Isaiah 61:3 NIV
“…to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of His splendor.”
“For 2023, may God help us all fast regrets and cease dragging old, dead things with us into the new, abundant life that Jesus’ birth, death, and resurrection made possible.” Dr. Alicia Britt Chole
December Moon
The December night is dark and deep, stillness and chill seeping into bones despite the layering of coat, scarf, hat, gloves, and thick soled boots.
Footfall is muffled and shushed along the pine strewn path, boots stirring up the ancient scent of the woods and winter shrouded earth.
The hush of the forest has a particular sound – not truly silent to the careful observer, but full of the rustle, scurry, and purpose of those living in the night. Frigid air gives their purpose a new vigor with warm dens and beds of fern, pine needles and forest detritus waiting to give shelter.
Deep, full inhalations fill lungs to the brim with invigorating, life giving air. Oddly, the heavy chill, though it burns and startles, offers peace and affirmation of knowing one is alive and well. Sometimes it takes the cloak of a dark, wintry, forest-y night to bring clarity to the chaos and exposure of living in the light.
Rounding the curve in the path, the stillness of the pond with the shimmery moon-glow trail on the dark water is breathtaking. A path of light and love painted on the water by the brush strokes of One who loves to bring awe, redemption, and delight. Loved. Seen. Safe.
The sound of stealthy prowling comes from the edge of the pond as a night hunter shifts and waits for dinner. Circle of life.
Moving along as the chill ever deepens, the hooting of an owl adds to the frosty night noises – haunting and lovely it is primitive and wild.
The path around the pond circles back on itself and my boots head back to the cabin. Thoughts of the cheerful fire in the firepit on the deck and the warm sherpa blanket urge me onward at a brisker pace.
Wrapped in the cozy blanket, Irish coffee in the large Christmas mug warms my cold hands; steam rising merrily as the fire mesmerizes.
A scrabbling, crunchy noise interrupts my reveries as a creature moves about to the left of the deck, digging through pine needles and foliage for a midnight snack. Curious glowing eyes spy on me. The shadowy outline of a fat raccoon in the faint reach of the firelight watches me until curiosity wans and she moves along.
Leaning back in the deck chair the stars appear strewn about like so much glitter landing at random points. But nothing is truly random. The night sky is beautifully planned and decorated with patterns and puzzles of light created to lead the ancient traveler.
Frosty breath wafts up as if making its way to the austere moon that guides, watches and travels the night sky. Fascinating to imagine all the eyes that have looked up in the night for navigation and a sense of constancy in a world that doesn’t always appear that way. A balm to lonely souls, the shining beacon of light makes things feel safer and less chaotic.
The shepherds on that holy and silent night looked up into the same chilled, star filled sky that I see on my deck as the fire glows and snickers to itself. The same moon watched on as the Holy One became man, as angelic hosts filled the still and starry night with the most awe-inspiring, stunning display of power and love that humankind has ever known.
It is not by happenstance that eyes are drawn upward – seeking wisdom, direction, meaning; safety, love and blessed peace.
From a cold and silent winter night, filled with moonlight and stars came the Light of the world. A Divine exchange between Creator and creation. Ultimate gift. Unconditional love. Emmanuel.
Warm bed beckons and I head inside, mind full of awe as I struggle to comprehend the enormity of the gift humanity was given on that night so long ago.
The old wood stove burns quiet, drowsy warmth. I curl up under quilts and comforters as the light of the moon gently glows through the snug window. Thoughts of angels, joy and eternity soothe and calm into restful sleep – a silent and holy night where all is calm and bright under a December moon.
Prayer
The intersection of the Divine and humanity. Awe inspiring. It’s hard to wrap the mind around this mystery of supernatural communion with the Creator. The One who formed us, named us, called us out from nothing into what is and prophesied over us what will be. Extraordinary, beautiful, mysterious.
It is the God-breathed breath in our lungs transforming into words whispered, shouted, sobbed, laughed and somehow ascending, floating, soaring up, up into the very presence of the One who formed the stars and called the Earth into being. Into the Holy of Holies, in the presence of angels and cherubim our words, thought and spoken, know exactly where to go as they search out the ear and heart of the Father. Our words and every thought know they will be found when they seek His attention. A magnetism that draws our need, praise and sometimes our fury and rage, straight to Him. Undivided attention in the midst of billions of voices. How is that possible?
Yet it is. The meticulous attention, time, and precision with which we were each formed allows us direct access to the One who knows us best. Nothing is hidden from Him. The raw vulnerability of that exposure is terrifying and unsettling, yet I find safety and rest here. No disguise, mask or self-righteous posturing happens in His presence. Flowery words and Christianese have no place in honest, raw, desperate conversations with the One who knows our every breath and move; the One who has our names engraved on the palms of His scarred hands.
There are times when the wounds and need are so raw and deep that no adequate words exist to speak it out, yet the Spirit knows – the pain, the rage, the gnawing, indescribable need that cries for release. He is right there in the middle of it, interceding “for us with groans too deep for words.” (Romans 8:26). Love. Comfort. Safety.
At times the joy, victory and delight are too overwhelming to express and His Spirit births in us a deep, healing laughter and tears that could never be expressed with mere words. How He loves us, how intimately He knows us. How He delights in supernatural conversation with us!
It isn’t hard talking to Him. Open your mouth, your mind and allow your spirit to connect with Him. You are never less than or too much. You are enough. You are just right. He does hear you. Jesus wants to heal you, offer you hope, peace, joy, and strength to get through all that life tosses out. He’s a best Friend, Father, Healer, Comforter, Warrior, the Prince of Peace, and you have His complete and undivided attention. So, grab your favorite mug, fill it with something soothing, lovely, and warm and have a chat with your Father…with or without words.
Lessons from Cancer and Life…
Lessons from Cancer and Life
In November 2010, I was diagnosed with an aggressive, fast-moving breast cancer and immediately began an exhausting and terrifying set of surgeries and treatments ending in April 2012. Our lives were upended, exposed, and thrust into a trajectory of the unknown for over 2 years. That experience taught me so much and I will never forget. So many lessons learned – about myself, the resilience of the human body, the primal urge to survive and that in my frailty and weakness I am made strong in my Creator.
On April 26, 2012, at 2:15 pm, I was told, “You are cancer free!”
As this anniversary date approaches every year many things run through my mind. The random memories of the cancer center and the “one of a kind, not found anywhere else” smell of it, the taste of peppermint candies I sucked on in an attempt to mask the horrible taste of saline and chemo, the ice chips I held in my mouth to keep painful ulcers from forming (I cannot stand ice in my drinks or mouth to this day), the blanket I brought to keep warm during treatments and comfy pink slipper socks. I still hear the sound of radiation equipment being dialed into place with strange and other-worldly whirs, clicks and bleeps. It was a lonely feeling in the brightly lit, freezing radiation room as the technicians went behind thick layers of protective safety walls and I lay there exposed, cold, and numb willing the machine noises to stop; hoping I wouldn’t burn.
There are good and treasured memories of my faithful husband going with me to every treatment, while through the IVs and tubes, the meds flowed in or when a dear friend sat with me and prayed and chatted during a long treatment. The distraction of good company meant so much to me even though it was hard and uncomfortable for them.
Ahh, then there are the beautiful memories of my little 2nd grade boy asking me to hop on his bed as he tucked me in with blankets and got out his books to read to me. Blessed. Loved. Precious. This sweet boy is now a brave, courageous young man in the United States Army – respectful, strong, and absolutely determined with a kind and compassionate heart.
It meant the world to me when my sweet 6th grade girl would tell me about her day with the ups and downs of middle school, feeling so blessed she shared with me and praying so hard I would have years and years ahead of me to listen to her talk. She’s almost 24 now and out living her life – a beautiful, compassionate, strong, and amazing young woman with a kind and generous heart. God answered that prayer for more time with my family.
Through all the living I’ve done, I discovered I am physically strong. My body fought with everything it had to beat this invader named breast cancer. It endured extreme treatments, pain, panic, nausea, steroids, exhaustion, and hair loss but never stopped fighting. God gave me strength to make it through one more day, one more test, and one more treatment. He did it. He is absolutely faithful. His eyes never left me, and His tears mixed with my own as I was wrapped in His arms crying out my fear, rage, and frustration – wondering if I would die.
I am still learning to view my body through a different filter. I am proud of my scars. They shout out that a battle was waged and won. I am determined to be strong and healthy, so do what I love – hiking, biking, and all things outdoors. I need to enjoy every single second of life I am given. So sometimes I choose to eat the dessert and not worry over whether or not I will look great in a swimsuit. I am alive and that is enough. Our days are numbered, and I want to take advantage of each one with those I fiercely love.
Despite days of deep sadness, fear of the unknown, rage, pain, and brain fog, I told myself I would get through this – that cancer would not win. Not this time. God absolutely gave me more than I could handle because we were never meant to walk out this life in our own strength. I chose to believe God would be with me through every test, every treatment, every bit of good and bad news. I held on to that and He proved Himself faithful, merciful, and compassionate. Yes, it was the hardest thing I have ever done. Yes, it put my body, mind, and soul to the ultimate test. I am an overcomer and so are you.
When other trials come along, like trials always do, I remind myself to look back on all that my Healer brought me through. He infuses me with strength and courage. As a brand-new Army Mom, I feel lost, overwhelmed, and adrift in this new season. I am trying to draw on past fortitude, peace, strength, and flexibility to navigate all this new season of life throws at us. I battled cancer and I won; I can do this new thing because seasons past have given me a warrior heart and soul. Fear, lack of control, paralyzing worry, loneliness and so much uncertainty is already rearing its head. My family and I are being forced to do life differently now and view it through a different lens.
Life can be hard, unpredictable, and unfair but if you look closely, you will find nuggets of joy and hidden treasures of beauty in everything. It is there just waiting to be discovered but you must look for it, change your filter from a victim mentality and choose life – choose to seek peace, hope and sweetness in whatever is swirling around you. I promise you it IS there. I remind myself daily, minute by minute, that I CAN do all things through Christ who strengthens me. You can, too. It is only by His strength, love, and healing and my decision to trust Him with myself that I am here to live another day and breathe another breath. It is His breath in my lungs. He saved my life and changed, and still is, changing my perspective. I am thankful. I have another day to live.
My hope and prayer as I travel out this next chapter in life, is that I leave everyone better than I found them – that encouragement, compassion and hope will trail behind me like a gentle beacon defying the darkness and shining the light of the One who is Light.
“But I’ll take the hand of those who don’t know the way, who can’t see where they’re going. I’ll be a personal guide to them, directing them through unknown country. I’ll be right there to show them what roads to take, make sure they don’t fall into the ditch. These are the things I’ll be doing for them—sticking with them, not leaving them for a minute.” Isaiah 42:16 MSG
“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” John 1:5 ESV
Hometown
There’s only a few more miles to go until her exit. The familiarity of these bends and curves in the highway prick at her mind. In a comforting way it feels like a buttery old glove made of soft leather molded to your hand. It fits snugly and securely wrapping you in warmth and a thin layer of protection. However, if she’s being honest, she isn’t feeling very secure. How many years has it been since she’s been “home”? Her nerves are a bit jangly and wiry, and she wonders at her decision to visit her hometown. Will it fill the void gnawing at her heart – that unsettled feeling of something unfinished and dangling, something needing her attention to bring closure and perhaps much needed peace. It’s a vague nuance of emotion that dances in her soul; twirling and spinning, beckoning her to explore and discover what’s sitting within her demanding attention. What is it that needs her to let go?
Sipping the last dregs of her Peets oat milk, light foam latte, Natalie rounds the last bend. Here is the slight rise in the highway with the old barn in the field to the left. It once was a rusty red, but with all the weathering it’s endured the color is now a dusty brown. The big sign hangs by a tilted chain over the arched entrance. The country lane leading up to it still has potholes and ruts. The name painted on the sign is kind of hard read, but Natalie knows it by heart – Whispering Oaks Farm. The small orchard to the right is still standing but my, how the trees have aged and gnarled and twisted.
Two dappled horses languidly munch grass hay in their tidy corral. Natalie remembers Mr. Jameson allowing her and her friends to bring apples and carrots to his horses. She loved the feel of their chin whiskers tickling the palm of her hand and the intelligence in their dark eyes.
Her exit is next, and she signals and slows to follow it down and to the right. There’s a stoplight now where there once was a STOP sign. Modernization! At the green light, she heads into town to see what else has changed.
So much looks the same. There are tweaks, updated signs and fresh paint on some of the storefronts, but most of the businesses look the same as when she left. Almost imperceptibly, her grip on the steering wheel loosens. Her neck and shoulders drop as muscles unclench and settle a bit. There is something comforting here in the old and familiar.
Parking along the street bordering the town square, Natalie steps out, stretches, and watches people entering the bookstore and the new-to-her café on the opposite side of the square. In front of her, people stroll around the grassy, tree lined park. Some have coffee in green cups from the café. Others carry restless children demanding to get down, so they can run, screech, and play in the small, shady play area. Still others sit and watch the world go by or read their books, absorbed in the tales being told.
Natalie walks the park, taking in the scent of the pine trees growing in a cluster at one end. Pine has always held an old, safe, happy scent. The splashing fountain is updated and much cleaner now. It is so cheerful in its bubbling and chuckling. She feels the corners of her mouth turn up and can’t help smiling with the happy fountain. She remembers picnics and cold sodas in the summer on the grass right here in this spot.
She sits for a bit to take it all in. She did have happy times here; she did have fun and felt like she belonged. She did… How long will she allow that one memory, with its wounds and startling betrayal to stifle her? Natalie was sure that moving away would force that memory to fade into the jumble of her fast-paced new life in a bigger city, with more people and chaos to drown it out. Maybe it did for a little while, but it never truly went away, did it? Is this why she feels such a draw and pull on her heart to be back here? Is it time to let that terrible memory go, so she can peek back in time with fondness and happy nostalgia, to the little town that formed her and grew her up? She has such a need to remember some peace and joy, some happy contentment without the roiling bitterness and pain flooding it all out. Yes. She thinks nostalgia and healing are what’s been calling to her…
Waking up before the alarm clock, Dominic feels a push to get moving this morning. It’s an interesting anticipation and he wonders what it wants from him.
With his morning routine complete, Dominic grabs his keys, wallet and phone and scoots out the door. On the way to the café, he remembers he needs oat milk; it is becoming quite popular, and he’s run out. Swinging by the neighborhood market to grab some, he notices a flat of bright colored lollipops by the cash register. For some reason, they catch his eye. Hmmm. These could be a fun addition to the pick-up counter. Dominic buys the flat, picturing the short, wide mouthed vase he will put these lollies in as a fun, catchy display. His long-time barista, Meredith, will probably roll her eyes and tease him for it. He chuckles as he figures out some brilliant comebacks to her good-natured ribbing.
Opening his shop, The Cuppa Café, Dominic gives it a once over, like he does every morning. He turns the hand painted OPEN sign facing out. “I wonder who will stop by today?”, he asks the pastry display.
The church that her grandma brought her to as a kid is down the street about two blocks from the town square. Natalie remembers the smell of wax, hymnals and a faint, flowery scent. She reaches the steps to the church and takes it in for a few minutes, before trying the big double doors. It looks the same, radiating a welcoming sense of belonging. The white paint by the doors is scuffed and peeling in random places along the sides and near the stained-glass window. The church spire points up, up, up.
Her breathing feels easier and lighter; not so strained and constricted. Funny, she never noticed how hard it’s been lately to breathe deeply. Feeling a calm, lovely serenity beckoning her, Natalie opens the doors and steps into the chapel. The scent memory hits her, enveloping and wrapping around her like an old quilt. Safety. Comfort. Peace. The frenetic energy drains away as she sits on a faded, padded pew and rests. She rests mind and body, allowing her spirit to drink in the memories that pour forth. Healing memories. Church potlucks, kids’ choir, Christmas Eve services and VBS – where the teachers always had a supply of sweet, bright colored lollipops as prizes. Such happy times!
Delicious feelings and gentle memories smooth out the worn, cracked, bandaged up places in her heart; even that place where the wounds and betrayal are hidden is tended to with mercy, grace, and healing. It’s time to let go and allow it to be taken from her. She’s ready. Natalie lifts her head and notices dust motes floating above her, dancing and moving toward the beautiful stained-glass window. She imagines those motes as tiny balloons with wispy tails carrying the wounds and pain, ascending toward the gentle light to be kept and tended by Someone else now. Freedom. Joy. Nostalgia.
Her time in the church brings restoration and lightness. Nostalgia is healing. The old things and memories hold a special balm that soothes and brings clarity. This was her call to come home for a spell. A reckoning in her spirit that needed to happen, and it did.
Warm soothing coffee sounds lovely right now, so Natalie makes her way to The Cuppa Café. Pushing open the doors, the bright, roasty scent of coffee brushes up against her. A man in a green apron is adding scones to his pastry display. “Hi and welcome in!”, he calls. The barista named Meredith finishes rinsing some cups and hurries over to take her order of a large oat milk latte with light foam. “Hey, you’re in luck! I grabbed a big carton of oat milk just this morning on my way in”, Dominic tells her. Natalie smiles, nods, and waits as Meredith makes her drink. “Is it ok if I add a bit more foam to your drink?”, Meredith asks, “I have a new foam design I’d like to try, and it need just a bit more to make it look right.” “Sure,” Natalie says, “how fun!”
Walking to the end of the coffee bar, bright colors in a short, wide mouthed vase catch her eye. There is a sign propped up against the vase that says, “Take One.” Oh my…the lollipops. What in the world? Natalie carefully picks a bright yellow one.
“Here you go!” Meredith hands her the cup and turns to start on the next order. Heading to a nearby table, Natalie sits and looks in the cup. The carefully crafted foam design is a balloon with a wispy tail. Her eyes mist. The balloon and yellow lollipop blur a bit. The way this entire day has blended in a perfect symphony of comforting nostalgia, healing release and budding joy, touches her heart and soul in a way she has never experienced. Compassion. Tenderness. Hope. Is it random alignment? She thinks not. Someone orchestrated this all for her. How well thought out and lovingly intimate are these little gifts she received today in her hometown.
Refilling the jug of Half ‘n Half, Dominic glances at the slight, brunette woman sitting by the window. He hasn’t seen her before and it being a small town, he notices. As he watches her looking at her coffee cup and the yellow lollipop she chose, he sees her eyes are over-bright and misted. There is deep emotion at play here and he feels like an intruder watching her.
As Meredith brushes past her on the way to the stock room, Dominic hears the woman tell Meredith how beautiful the foam balloon looks and how much she appreciates her decorating her coffee with something so precious. Hmm. Interesting way to describe a foam design…
Dominic hears the woman push back her chair, and gather her purse, coffee, and lollipop. She stands a moment, then shyly approaches him.
“Hi, excuse me – where did you get these lollipops? I haven’t seen these in a long time. I know this sounds crazy, but they bring back good memories for me. I really needed that today. So, anyway, thanks.”
She hurries from the café and out onto the street. Dominic stands still for a few minutes taking in what she said. So, this is what the feelings of anticipation and purpose were about this morning; the reason these silly, spunky lollipops caught his eye, willing him to display them. Someone arranged this random encounter for a dark-haired woman who needed a reminder of good things and happy times. Standing in the middle of The Cuppa Café Dominic smiles to himself – I wondered who would stop by the café today. Who knew that latte foam and lollipops could be life changing?
Longing
It rises up from deep in my soul. The sensation is difficult to describe, and I need it to have a name. Somehow that will make it seem safe and predictable, possibly evencontrollable. It is pressure that builds and needs a release like a cry that can only be satisfied by an answering calm, a gentling of the urgency; a whispered word, saying “Peace, be still child; how very close I am to you.”
It is birthed in quiet moments of meditation and worship where time ceases to exist, as I have Your undivided attention. My voice and Your Spirit mix and intertwine in the Heavenlies bringing delight to Your heart and setting into motion things I could never comprehend. It is so beautiful, yet not safe and certainly not predictable – uncontrollable. This feeling surges up as I fall to my knees in awe of all that You are knowing that the small bit I do know of You is almost more than I can bear. Knowing there is more, that You are richer and more brilliant than my most vivid dreams frightens me because that too is not safe or predictable and cannot be contained. No – it is holy, a consuming fire, pure, wild, and more fierce and passionate than I can handle on my own.
It swells up when my fingers finally release their death grip on what I knew all along I could never control yet almost died in trying. I hear it in the sound of chains falling and walls crumbling as another stronghold tumbles to the ground; the scent of victory overcoming the stench of defeat. The feeling comes as a wave, a pounding of the heart as Your anointing falls when obedience calls and is answered with, “Yes Lord, here I am.”
It is there when the howling loneliness shouts for filling and claws in desperation until Your presence is given permission and enfolds and permeates the void. I sense it when joy unspeakable and peace that passes all understanding snaps like a banner in the wind, high above the circumstances and distractions of life proclaiming that Jehovah Nissi is my covering and victory.
Waiting in Your presence I begin to understand the sensation is a soul-deep desire for You – a needy emptiness that can only be filled by all that You are. It is the craving my spirit knows will only be satisfied when I am forever in Your presence; an obsession keeping me hungry and thirsty for revelation, wisdom, truth, and a startling intimacy found only with You. This isn’t safe or predictable and certainly not controllable but will be with me until I see You face to face.
So, I will let go and embrace the wildness and fierceness of it. I will welcome it with open arms and a tender heart. I will name it longing.
Ascending
The Creator watches as they ascend to the heavenlies. Lovely, iridescent conversations drifting up from the souls of His creation. Gently capturing every spoken and unspoken request in His hand, He attends to them all with love and delight. Engraved on His palms are names, so many names; each one a special treasure with His undivided attention. He listens with deep compassion as the fragrance of our need for Him fills, swirls, and mingles with cherubim song and the voices of the saints. A song that is deep, mysterious, and filled with prophecy pours from His mouth and flows down to bathe and hover over us. Deep calls to deep as He intervenes, commands, and performs the miraculous. His timing is perfect.
Each prayer, groan, praise, and cry rise upward on the delicate, life-giving vapors of His very breath breathed into our lungs. Returning to the Creator, they seek peace, protection, and healing; compassion, provision, and love – that deep need to be known and seen – to matter.
Never resting, omniscient and omnipresent, the Almighty is aware of all that concerns His cherished ones. No need, thought, or desire is hidden from Him. The first fluttering open of an eyelid in the morning, the woodsy scent of pine being inhaled and enjoyed, the sting of rejection and late-night tears from a broken heart are not lost on Him. Full of compassion and mercy He sings over the pain, fear, joy and mundane, speaking that which is not, into existence and calling home those for whom eternity with Him is beckoning.
When a wound is so deep that the wounded one has no words, yet cries out with groans and weeping, He is in the midst of it, speaking peace, speaking healing, speaking Himself into the chaos. It must quiet, obey and make space for His plan, healing, and comfort. Just a brush from the hem of His robe is enough to calm a soul in distress, to heal the body, mind, and spirit, and quiet the voices of fear, worry, despair and evil. His thoughts and His glance are always enough. Omnipotent.
When shouts of joy and words of thanksgiving tumble from grateful lips and eyes are tear-stained with joy and deliverance He is there. He rejoices with the heavenly host over a prodigal come home, a life healed, a relationship mended, a soul repentant and forgiven.
The prayers whispered in the mundane, unseen happenings of an ordinary day are revered and never overlooked. There is a specific purpose for each second granted to His child and not one is trivial.
There is peace and safety knowing that we are not anonymous. We are fully known and seen in a sea of humanity desperate for hope, peace, protection, and healing. Psalm 139: 1-6 declares, “You have searched me, Lord, and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue you, Lord, know it completely. You hem me in behind and before, and you lay your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain.”
The prayers of creation will never cease ascending to the Father’s ears. He will forever receive them with love and mercy, giving grace, undivided attention, and care to each one. Billions of soul-whispers and cries continuously flow upward. Yours will never be lost in the crowd. You will never be irrelevant and unseen. Your voice will always be a beautiful incense perfuming the Throne Room of the Most High. You are not anonymous to the One who loves you best.
Let There Be
This short statement in Genesis 1:3 called the world into existence. The Spirit of God hovered over the empty, formless mass of Earth declaring it to exist out of nothing.
In my mind I see it – deep blackness empty of hope and life, the vast, desolate emptiness and absolute silence of it all. Nothingness. It’s overwhelming to think about because we have never experienced absolute nothingness, the absence of all sound. How would that feel? Suffocating? Terrifying? Absolutely alone. Pin pricks of goose bumps form as I picture what the Creator hovered over in that place devoid of everything.
But He said, “Let there be…”.
That is not a wish or a casual comment. “Let there be.” It’s a command. As the Spirit of God hovered, He already knew what He was going to call into existence. He always knew and dedicated a specific time and place for it to happen.
Omnipotent. Omniscient. Omnipresent. Alpha and Omega. The power, compassion and patience, the wisdom, authority, and mystery wrapped up in these words is nothing short of awe inspiring, humbling and breath taking. Everything becoming as He intended by the words of His mouth – nothing accidental or happenstance. “So is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.” 1
This word from His mouth included you and me.
As the earth we inhabit was being called into existence you and I were on His mind. When there was nothing but blackness and silence, we were thought of and intimately known down to the minute cellular details of our being. The exact timing of our birth, our parents, our siblings, our friends, our entire sphere of existence was known, decided, and waiting for His word to release us to be and do what He ordained from the very beginning. I imagine the joy and excitement in the heavenlies as each of us were sent forth!
It is hard to know what to do with the knowledge that we have always been known, cherished and so very loved; that before we existed in a worldly way, the exact number of hairs on our heads was decided, the color of our eyes was carefully thought out, and the path we were created to walk was plotted out carefully and completely. There is no surprise or plot twist for Him. Our paths may be twisty, uncertain, tedious, and full of the unexpected, unwanted, and unexplained to our limited wisdom, but not to the One who set it all in motion with the command, “Let there be…”.
I wonder how many times each day He declares that command over us. “Let there be” …a job, provision, healing, restoration, a safe trip, a friend when we are lonely, an angelic intervention, hope when life seems desperate, protection from evil. His words never return void, and they achieve all that He sent them forth to accomplish. He’s declaring it over you right now. “Let there be” …hope, peace, blessings, and victory! You are safe, you are known, you are of immense value.
1 Isaiah 55:11
Extravagant Hope 