Living Blessed

My coffee mug has the word Blessed inscribed across the front. The letters are big and bold, like a confident declaration.

Sitting at my kitchen table, I watch the morning unfold in my garden. There are a variety of birds at the feeders that sing as they jostle for position. They wait their turn, sometimes with nice attitudes and other times, not. Other birds scratch and scritch among the garden debris, ferreting out whatever treasures are hidden in the rich dirt. Watching these birds go about their daily business, I think about the word blessed. The dictionary says it means consecrated; holy; sacred; blissfully happy or contented. These words are beautiful. I want to be these words, feel, and live in these words.

Living and being blessed often seems elusive; like a thought or elevated idea that is difficult to truly capture. As I pondered this idea, I began to see that the word blessed is not a higher thought on a difficult to achieve spiritual plane.

Imagine a typical day – you wake up and grab your coffee in your favorite mug. Perhaps you watch the morning unfold in front of you on the patio with a soft breeze floating past, all kinds of sounds and scents in the air. What if you decided to be grateful that you are alive; able to see, smell and experience nature going about its business in the Divine order of things? Is that not sacred, bringing bliss and contentment? What if you witness a startling and unusual act of kindness causing you to pause, tear up and have your faith in humanity restored, if even for a moment? Is that not holy? Is that intersection of the Divine and the human, not sacred ground? I wonder, if when I’m making dinner, listening to music, or chatting with Jesus on a walk in my neighborhood, those places become sacred, holy, and divine. Blessed.

But… what if the day isn’t full of things that make me blissfully happy? The car accident that totals the car, the child who makes a poor choice and you see no clear way out of it. Maybe cruel words were hurled in the heat of the moment, and they can’t be taken back. Perhaps there is a diagnosis you never saw coming. Is there room here to declare “I am blessed?” Yes.

Some blessings come after the hurt and wounds. The Divine often shows up in miraculous ways, turning devastation into glory, failure into victory, wounding into strength and the impossible into something to be remembered in awe and reverence, because there seemed to be no good ending, yet there was.  To live blessed, we need to be alert and seek it out. It won’t always show up immediately. Blessings may not be dressed up in blissful happiness and a cute outfit. Blessings may come dirty, scuffed up, straggling and a bit off kilter, but will come. I have seen them come in both forms – equally holy, sacred, consecrated. Blessed.

I want to live expecting blessings; bloom where I am planted and thrive, no matter what it looks like. Holy, divine, sacred, and blissful happiness is all around us, waiting with open arms for us to slow down and seek it. What is sought will be found.

Exciting News!

Hi friends! I have some exciting news to share with you – I have written a book called Divine Encounters!

It’s been edited by Pia Edberg at http://www.piaedberg.com and is now in the beginning stages of cover and layout design with Karolina Wudniak at http://www.karolinawudniak.com. This has been a long time coming!

Divine Encounters is Christian/spiritual devotion and prose book. I am a firm believer that people seek and find the Divine in everything from ordinary life to spending time in nature. In times of chaos and confusion there is always hope, redemption and healing waiting to be found. I love how ordinary life, a walk in the park, and every day circumstances become Divine encounters, when we allow our hearts, ears, and eyes to be open to it. The Divine is all around us.

I am passionate about this book and getting it into the hands of those who need the words God’s given me. Everything I have written has personally touched a place in my heart that God knew needed encouragement and joy, as well as hope and healing.  

I will be self-publishing Divine Encounters as an eBook and paperback via KDP and will keep this blog updated as the release date gets closer. An author Facebook page and Instagram account are in the works! I appreciate every one of you who have read my blog, subscribed to it, and encouraged me to keep on writing! Blessings on you!

Cheers!

Melissa

The Tapestry

The wool threads display the richest of colors as they flow across the loom; some vibrant and brilliant, which immediately draw the eye and capture attention, while other shades and hues are subdued, calming and deep, visible only to those who truly see. The Master Weaver has been at His work forever and He will not stop until it is completed. His breath creates and calls into existence that which was not, into what is. His thoughts and His songs, His glance and His robes are all part of the Divine dance that weave and blend to make a way where there wasn’t one.  Supernatural, un-stoppable, beautiful.

We each have a unique tapestry. No tapestry is the same, yet our individual threads intersect, overlap, advance and retreat as the tapestry is woven and the Creator’s plans come into being. What He sends forth will not return void. It will accomplish the exact and perfect purpose for which it was sent. Perfection. Mysterious. Holy.

I imagine an open space that is peaceful and joyful, where the Master does His creating. It is a place filled with pure, flowing water, incense, and beauty. It is called Holy Ground. This sacred spot is where the weaving happens. It is precious and well-guarded. There is joy, tender love, hurt, and tears in this place. Laughter and grief intermingle and twine about each other in a dance that is gorgeous, fierce, and completely untamed; terrifying and yet carefully orchestrated.  Who can contain and control what Heaven has spoken and breathed into life?

The individual tapestries stand alone, yet they do not. Each one is carefully and precisely ordered to intersect, surprise and flow into the others. Each tapestry is necessary for the others to come to fruition. Certain tapestries will be woven together for a lifetime, others for a few moments, years, days, or seasons. Some may barely skim the borders of another, yet there is a Divine purpose for the skimming and the overlapping, the touching, and intersecting. The Creator knows and that is enough. He sees it for how it is, how it was, and He will see it long after we are called home. Perhaps we will see His master plan with unveiled eyes, once blurred from striving to understand, force or remove these divine intersections.  What is woven together can’t be undone by the tapestry. All the struggling is futile and distracts from the beauty unfolding minute by minute in front of us. No, we can’t foresee, tame and reverse that which was breathed by Holy breath into existence.  This is where hope and faith must come into play. There are lessons that must be learned, hurts healed, and other tapestries that need the colors, hues, and patterns the Weaver chose to color your life tapestry.  These will not always blend in perfect harmony. This mixture will at times appear chaotic and unsafe, as if they should not have been allowed to brush against each other. The Master Craftsman knows how it all unfolds because He saw it from the beginning. Alpha and Omega.

What appears as chaos, pain, and discord in the moment is part of the dance. He knows the steps because He created them. We can’t pretend to understand the whys and purposes behind His plan, but one day I hope we will. When the final thread in our tapestry is woven and the Weaver shepherds us into the place called Holy Ground, we will see how it all blends into something lovely, ordered, and precise and we will stand in awe of it; smiling through tears of understanding, as the height, breadth, and depth of His perfect love covers us. We will watch in fascination, as the remaining tapestries are sung and danced over, breathed upon, and woven together until He leans back from His loom, declares it is finished, and brings His masterpieces home, to be forever displayed in the Most Holy Place, for all of eternity.

Look to the Clouds

The summer morning is warm with a brilliant, Robin-egg blue sky. The warm dirt under my young back is soft, yet bumpy with divots, small rocks and tamped down grasses. It smells comforting, earthy and old. It feels safe.

The air is warm and a bit close, broken up by the occasional snippet of breeze, that lazily puffs over me in my earthy spot; grasses and wildflowers tossing and bobbing as the breeze slips through them, forcing movement on this indolent summer morning.

I fancy myself a cat; lazy, snooze-y and hidden from view; yet spying and aware of all that is going on around my little nest.

There is a Blue Jay, raucous and naughty, dipping and darting as she looks for her breakfast in the oak trees. She is not afraid of disturbing the more stately Robins and Sparrows that are seeking out their morning meals. The birds do not notice me in my lair and continue about their morning business; or maybe they do…

A variety of ducks and some Canadian geese glide by on the rippled water of the canal just a few feet away from me; blackberry brambles and other sticker bushes guard its banks like stubborn sentries. You can get through to the water, if you dare to pass through them. Brave creatures have carved paths under and through these sentries, to make their way to the water and safety. Their dens are cozy and well protected. Easy access to tiny fish, frogs and maybe crawdads.

Ah! There is the distinctive splash of the muskrat, slipping through the cloudy waters of the canal. His path can be traced by following his bubbles, as he searches below the waters for his breakfast. Routine. Safe. Ordinary.

Looking to the sky from my child-sized hollow in the summer faded grasses, I notice the white, marshmallow-like clouds floating past. They are fascinating! Some are huge and billowy, while others are small, wispy and seem to vanish or meld into bigger clouds nearby; as if swallowed up.

Imagination has free reign while cloud watching. My mind can wander and make up all sorts of fantastical stories. I see one cloud that at first glance, is just big, fluffy and non-descript; but then it emerges; a boat with a crooked, tilted mast and a scraggly, wispy sail. Peeking over the side of the boat, is a horse’s head and strange looking bird. What stories that boat has to tell! Another cloud is almost perfectly round, except for one edge that has a thin, feathery tail wafting off to the right; like a child’s balloon rushing off in the wind on exciting adventures.

Breaking up the daydreams, the sleek, black cat saunters into my grassy hideout, curious and nosey; casually attacking a random leaf, sniffing around my hideaway; demanding pets and chin scratches. Having determined a spot near my head as acceptable, she settles in for a drowsy rest, as the warm morning is becoming a hot, summer afternoon. The shade is moving with the shifting sun, flooding my little earth-nest with a bit too much heat and light. Maybe it’s time to get the sprinklers out, as another dreamy, lazy, hot, Northern California summer day plods along into the next one.

Summer as a child was pleasant and predictable with routine, yet full of adventure by the canal behind my house. Lovely memories of feeding ducks and meeting the new ducklings each summer, picking blackberries and making pies, cobblers and jams, taking long walks along the grassy, wildflower laden paths near the canal bank. It felt joyful, exciting and new; yet familiar and safe in that familiarity. I recapture bits and pieces of those feelings, when as an adult, I revisit the canal and all its creatures, scents and sounds, as I relax and observe from the patio swing or from the lone bench nestled under an old oak, with a blue wind chime tinkling; ducks, geese, river otters and muskrats going about their business. The familiarity soothes and calms. Tilting my head back to feel the sun, I allow the warmth to penetrate and loosen the chilled, hardened, practical places my adult mind has created. Sometimes life forces that on us, just to survive the onslaughts of life. Peering up through the gnarled, old branches of the oak tree, I see clouds. Puffed, billowing, white clouds and I remember my child-self lying in the tall, warm grasses, surrounded by the stout wildflowers and nosey cats. Content and care-free. I remember the day dreams and simple joy of seeing life, nature, and me in the cloud shapes, imagining the Creator with his paintbrush, delighting me with adventures and laughing as each stroke of His brush changed everything. There is peace and contentment for an exhausted, stressed, adult mind, when I simply look to the clouds and allow that child-like joy and imagination to have its way for a bit, and laugh with my Creator as He fills the sky with Himself.

Angels

Have you seen an angel or had an experience that’s left you full of wonder, mystery and so profoundly moved that you know you’ve encountered one? I would love to hear about it!

I absolutely believe angels exist. I believe we encounter them and their divine presence, as they carry out their God-ordained work among us, more often than we realize. We can miss these carefully orchestrated encounters because we are not actively looking for God’s presence, work and movement in our lives. The awe inspiring encounters that we do see and witness, are often minimized to chance and circumstances aligning and planets and serendipity. We are a busy, self-reliant and proud species, we humans. Admitting that Someone greater than ourselves keeps a close and constant watch over our every move, breath and encounter is hard to swallow, when pride slithers in and whispers that we don’t need anyone or anything. We’ve got this all under control. The idea that God already knows and has breathed into existence every single thing that we will encounter, in every moment of our lives is almost too much to bear. It is much easier to be fanciful and think that WE have actually done, seen, figured it all out.

Psalm 91:11 and 12 – “For He will order His angels to protect you wherever you go. They will hold you up with their hands so you won’t even hurt your foot on a stone.”

What might an angel encounter look like, feel like, be like? It won’t always be phenomenal, historical, widely broadcast and visible to multitudes of witnesses. It won’t always be a cast of heavenly hosts singing and welcoming the Savior into the world. But it is still divine, miraculous and history making for the one encountering an angel sent by God.

Maybe it looks like an accident that absolutely SHOULD have happened, but somehow, miraculously did not? Or it could be an encounter with a stranger that is so precise, needed, timely and perfect that there really isn’t another option, except for an angel encounter or a God-move that uses a common human to fulfill a divine plan. Perhaps someone shows up at exactly the right time, provides aid and kindness and completely disappears before a word of thanks can be offered; no one else saw or encountered that person, but you and it’s truly beyond explanation; but it isn’t, is it? God commands His angels to be all around and about us every single place we go. No, they are not God and are not to be worshipped, but they are commanded by God. They are about His business in our lives. That brings me comfort, despite the fact that bad things do still happen. Not every sad, tragic, frightening thing is kept from us and that is beyond what I can explain. But, God knows and He sees and He filtering, constantly, everything that touches us.

Several years ago, my son and I were driving on I-5 toward Redding, CA. All was fine and low-key until it wasn’t. A car passing us suddenly lost it’s entire drivers side wheel. It shot straight in front of our car, bounced and flew backwards, heading directly for our windshield. We were in the fast lane, 70 mph +/- with a guardrail to the right and the swerving car with the missing wheel to left. In slow motion, I watched in terror as that wheel was shooting straight at us. At the absolute last moment, it veered completely opposite it’s trajectory path, physically impossible, as if something with an incredible amount of force pushed it, and the wheel hit the guard rail and totally stopped, no injuries to anyone. My son and I would surely have been killed or gravely injured that day, had angels not intervened and brought that spinning tire under God’s control. The divine among us.

Another time, a casual walk in the park suddenly became a very frightening encounter with a stranger intent on harming me. The man and the danger were circumvented and not permitted, as I felt Jesus telling me exactly what to do and say and physically felt His command and His angels’ presence blocking the man and event that was meant for evil. These are but two of the angel encounters, big and small, that I have experienced in my lifetime. Some encounters were meant just for me that spoke volumes and changed everything. Luke 4:10 – “For it is written: He will command his angels concerning you to guard you carefully; “

I have had angels and their role in our lives on my mind, since Advent, Bible verses and Christmas carols, all speaking to the presence of angels and the encounters with humans over the centuries. It hasn’t stopped, you know; these angel and Christ encounters. I believe they are happening all over the world, all the time, in the mundane and trivial; the frightening, life threatening and the funny; the lovely and the tragic; the victory and the joy. A smile, a kind word and actions from strangers and the opportunities we are given to entertain angels, as we carry out Jesus’ love for others. Hebrews 13:2 “Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it.”

Eyes open, hearts receptive, ears listening. The divine is all around you.