safety and security

December Moon

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

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.

The Winter Village

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

A crescent ray of filtered sunlight peeps in through the upstairs bedroom window.

Languid, lazy stretches; it’s cozy under the heavy heirloom quilt. I doze a bit longer enjoying the peace and quiet until the calico cat frisks and pounces on my moving foot, forcing me to get up and begin the day.

Soft, fluffy slipper socks wait next to the pine wood nightstand. Quilt-warmed feet are toasty padding down the narrow stair, the familiar creak at the fifth step from the bottom is comforting.

Snow!

A light snow has fallen in the night coating the garden and the stone fence with a sparkly spunkiness that beckons a walk to the village.

But first, coffee!

The warm, comforting coffee-scent permeates the chilly kitchen. Crispy bacon on toast sounds delicious this snow-bright morning – just enough until I make my way to Penny’s Pastries in the village square.

The watery sunlight filtering through the slowly building clouds begs for knee-high snow boots, the puffed navy-blue snow jacket and thick, red tartan scarf, navy gloves, and a beanie. Festive and snug!

The fluffy white cat lounges in his cardboard box bed on the end of the couch, watching sleepily as I don my winter apparel. He is quite happy to lie about for the morning, nestled down on the red fleece blanket tucked into the box.

Wrapped up and warm, I venture into the pretty snow-covered garden and out the creaky, wooden gate to begin my snowy adventure.

More snow than I realize has fallen during the night. The way it gently drifts and pillows the lane into the village square is lovely and inviting – that satisfying snow-crunch under foot.

Winking, colorful Christmas lights add a festive sparkle to the windows of Della’s Curio Shoppe on the corner. Antique Christmas decorations and assorted glass bowls filled with hard candies, invites one to step inside and browse the eclectic trinkets. A calming scent of vanilla, fir, and old things tease the senses. A jolly looking antique snowman catches my eye. Carefully wrapped trinket in hand, I venture on into the village.

The small group of well bundled carolers gracing the entrance to the old stone church, sing with gusto as they nod a greeting to those who stop for a spell. Their blending sopranos and altos swirl up and away into the wintry air on frosted breath. A wistful sigh of nostalgia brushes against me as I remember Christmases past with caroling, hot cocoa and festive holiday laughter…

Ah! Penny’s Pastries!

A scent of baking, heady and delicious, wafts from the wreathed door as patrons come and go, leaving a path in the powdery snow. Will she have fresh cream currant scones? She does! I settle myself, the scone, and some steamy Winter Blend tea at a rustic table near the windows. People watching!

Across the square, Nadia’s Toys & Treasures is doing brisk business this morning! The festive window display draws in the strolling families as they watch the model train set navigate the miniature hills and tunnels covered in flakey snow. Tiny sheep and cattle settled on the snowy fields watch its progress. Wide eyed children beg to go in and see where that tiny train goes on its round and round journey. Adventure!

Kitty-corner is Bea’s Nifty Notions n’ Such serving the sew-ers, knitters and crafters of the village.  Brightly colored holiday ribbons, soft knit hats, mittens, and a plump Mrs. Claus at an antique sewing machine, adorn her display windows. It reminds me of my mother and grandmother – their beautiful handmade gifts and crafts so lovingly created. Two older ladies with bright purple hats and matching scarves bustle out the door. The holiday themed bags are filled with supplies for their next sewing project.

The clock-tower bells chime the hour with a deep, silvery gong. How times flies! There is more to see so I head out into the bustling square.

Lunch time!

Next stop, Lazzaro’s Deli.  A prosciutto, ham, salami, and Swiss cheese sandwich with a few swipes of golden mustard, thin-sliced red onion, a splash of balsamic and olive oil, just a touch, mind, and some plump grapes accompany me on a hike up the hill behind the village.  There is a small grove of pines at the top where adventurous children haul their sleds and all variety of hand-made sliding contraptions, to fly down the slope – yelping, shouting, and having a splendid time. Freedom and flight!

Weathered pine picnic tables are scattered around the grove for year-round picnickers, each table with a view of the sledders and village below. What a pleasant way to pass the afternoon. Memories pop up of climbing the hill at night with thermoses of hot cocoa and Baileys to look at the village adorned in Christmas lights. Spellbinding!

A quick brindle dog and large German Shepherd dash through the grove, pouncing and digging in the snow in search of the ball they have been fetching. While the dogs are busy, their owners pull out their picnic hoping to get in a few bites before the ball is found. The dog-kicked and flung snow comes dangerously close to my table. Laughing, I take that as my signal to head back down the hill.

Crisp, pine-scented, wintry air tousles my hair peeping out from under the beanie. Filling my lungs with the cold air is so invigorating! I’m alive and well on this wonderful day.

At the edge of the village, I change course and walk the lesser traveled side lanes. The snow drifts are deeper here but still navigable. The sun begins an early descent in the mountains and the shadows grow longer. The fading, muted light is a bit eerie as clouds move in and hover lower in the winter sky. The unmistakable feeling of snow.

The quaint and tumbled houses are pretty with their covers of snow and puffing chimneys. Safe and homey. A group of children jostle out one of the doors and into the nearby field pummeling each other with snowballs. Shouts and whoops of laughter break up the quiet.

Heading to the left, I follow the lane running along the banks of a stream. It passes from the hills through the village and out and beyond. Normally noisy and full of life, the quietening of winter renders it silent and still, as if in a deep and restful sleep. As I cross the sturdy stonework bridge spanning the iced-over stream, it broadens out into a wide, gentle lake frozen into the perfect ice-skating rink.  Ordering a large hot cocoa from the festive concessions stand, I grab a seat on one of the nearby benches.

Dinnertime!

The Aberdeen Café and Mama’s Diner fill up with hungry shoppers and families who need a quick refuel and rest before ice skating begins. I’m happy I have half a sandwich leftover from lunch. Trekking up and down the hill made me hungry. As the heat from the hot cocoa leaches into my chilly hands, I gaze around the square at the beautifully lit fir tree with its merry winking lights and lovely lit-up angel at the top.

With dinner finished, the brave and adventurous head out onto the ice. They are all in top form! Some glide by with calm, happy smiles while others slip along with mouths formed into a nervous O, as they precariously zip and zing across the ice.  There will be more than a few sore bums and knees before the night is over.

The village is festive and welcoming with its lovely lights and lit up greenery. I hesitate to head home yet, but it’s been a long day. The coziness of my aunt and uncle’s cottage, with the crackling fire they will have blazing, beckons me to go on home.

Finishing the hot cocoa, I take another look at the cheerful shops and happy skaters. What a lovely day!

I scoop up my package from the curio shoppe and make my way along the darkening lane to the cottage. As I walk and breathe in the frigid night air, a gentle snow begins to fall on the winter village. The large fluffy flakes are soft and gentle. So peaceful. I marvel at the way they flutter and float on the wintry night air, each going their own way. There is a deliberateness to the random way they descend and find their landing place. Each one with a specific spot that adds to the piling snow drifts – each one needed. I imagine the Creator’s joy and excitement as each one is uniquely crafted and thought out. Humanity isn’t so different from these beautiful snowflakes.

Turning onto Lakeview Lane, I pause to take in the cottage before heading inside. So lovely, the way it sparkles and winks, white lights outlining its edges and curves, smoke gently chuffing from the stone chimney. Inviting. Lovely memories of my day in the village are safely tucked away as snowy peace descends on the winter village.

Prayer

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

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…

~ Extravagant Hope ~ 2 Comments

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

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

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?

Ascending

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

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.

Coming very soon…

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

Hi everyone! I’m excited! My book is very close to being published; waiting on a proof copy of the paperback to arrive. Once I see it’s just how it should be, Divine Encounters…will go live on Amazon KDP (eBook and paperback), Kobo, Barnes and Noble Press and Google Play Books. Here is a sneak preview of the cover and blurb.

When it is out there and ready I will publish again with the links.

I can’t wait for her to be out in the world, doing what she was meant to do!

What do you Want?

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

“What do you want?” It’s a generic question most of us likely hear at least once a day, isn’t it? Maybe we are the ones asking.

It’s something I ask myself when plans, relationships and circumstances do not line up with my hopes and plans or when something blindsiding pops up and I don’t know how to react.  

As I let this question simmer and swirl in my brain, I realize that what I long for most I already have in Jesus. I already have it. Read those words again. This goes further than the physical wanting of food, water, and clothing. This question is begging and pleading with us to go deep on this one. You know that place; where putting words to the emotion, need, and longing is almost impossible; yet it is there and desperate to be heard. I believe this feeling is purposely put there by God to draw us to Him. It keeps us seeking Him because we know, on that deep, beyond words level, that we need Him. We may not be able to put words to it, but our souls know Him and long for everything He provides.

What is it that you long for most and feel like you don’t have? Is it security and safety? To be heard, known, and seen? Do you feel anonymous in a big, wide world? Do you want to know you are loved unconditionally and looked upon with eyes that adore every single fiber of your being? Do you want to know that you have a purpose; that you are NOT an accident?  Maybe you need to know you have worth beyond your wildest imagination; or perhaps you crave order and chaos in a world that is wildly out of order.

You have all these things! You are safe and secure. But, at times it is very hard to believe that. Things do not always work out in the ways we plan, hope, and strive.  Jobs are still lost, loved ones still pass, friendships still end, children still make choices that break our hearts and disease still knocks on our doors.

This is where faith, trust and hope live; in the parts of life that make no sense, are chaotic and frightening and hurt. This is where even the tiniest shards of belief must reside. Belief that nothing touches you, His masterpiece, without it first being filtered through His scarred hands; hands that were scarred to seal you to Him, to make eternal life with Him possible. He does sees you. He hears you and knows your every thought.

Zephaniah 3:17 tells you that “The Lord your God is in your midst; a mighty one who will save; he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you by his love; he will exult over you with loud singing.”

What time, tender care and attention God took, as you were created, and the breath of life was breathed into your lungs. It is His breath in your lungs. You have a purpose. Jeremiah 29:11 says, “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jesus can bring order, calm and peace into every situation. During the greatest pain and confusion life throws at you, He is right there, offering you His love, offering you Himself. His wisdom is available, as is His peace, if you ask Him.

Think deep about what it is you think you don’t have, what it is you long for most, and ask Him to show you that you have it. It may show up in unexpected, surprising places that delight you and bring you joy once you see that you have all you need because He is more than enough.

Nostalgia

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

It’s going to be another hot day, so I’m up early.  I head to the patio and warm coffee comes with me. There is a slight chill, oh so slight, but I can feel it on my skin.

There is something vague and wistful in the way the air feels this morning. The hint of the warmth that’s to come, mixed in with that slight chill. It feels so familiar.

It’s the way the light is coming up over the apple tree, shadows from the branches falling just so on the green grass and touching the edges of the 3-tiered fountain. The yellowy-white light pulls at my memory; I’ve seen this light before. I know it.

I hear it in the way the finches, bold blue jays and grey titmouse call and chatter. Fuzzy squirrels scampering and digging in the grass and garden tug at something hovering in my mind.

The scent in the air has a subtle, comforting, reminiscent quality to it that dances on the fringe of memory. It’s happy and calming; stirring up a sentimental longing and wistful affection for something… Is it a specific memory or snippets of various memories stirred up by the sight, sound, scent of this peaceful morning? I wonder…

Sitting here at the pine table I allow my thoughts go where they will.

The scent in the air, the light and the creature sounds call up memories of my grandparents’ house in Lakehead, CA. I loved this place! It was nestled in and around pine trees with squirrels and birds galore! I recall the warm, safe scent of those pine trees, the dusty earth, and bubbling excitement of walking through the wooded area to the little market with my grandma. Exciting!

In the warm afternoons, the blue kiddie pool was set up in the backyard under some shady pine trees. Buckets, cups, Barbies, and various other toys made for a fun and easy afternoon. I think time stood still for a bit. My grandma sat in the shade on her 70’s era lawn chair with a sweating glass of sweet tea and chatted with me. Always the safe, old, lovely scent of warm pine and earth.

I remember the thrill and exhilaration of hurtling down a big hill near their house in my little red wagon with the pine-y wind in my face – what a memory of freedom and adventures. I looked forward to the summer-night strolls to visit neighbors and see a few deer as we walked along. Pleasant and friendly.

The sound of scampering squirrels on my fence reminds me of hearing pattering squirrel feet run over the roof of their house and my grandpa’s garage in the early mornings. The garage was a wonderful place. It was full of gadgets, boxes of nails and rakes, the fishing gear, and all sorts of fun things to play with and examine. It had the distinct smell of cars and a tangy scent of oil and gasoline. Order and routine, everything in its place.

I can smell the fishy, earthy, watery scent of Lake Shasta where my grandpa, my Dad and I spent many hours on his boat fishing and motoring around the lake, stopping in the small, quiet coves to cool off and swim. Even in the summer heat, there was the distinct lake chill that danced above the water. Dinner of fresh caught fish back at the house gave me such a warm, cozy, homey feeling. We sat and ate on the enclosed porch at the picnic table, talking and laughing about the highlights of the day. As the adults talked on into the summer night, I would drowse and day dream.

Yes, these are cherished memories. Interesting how a subtle scent on the air, a ray of sunlight and nature sounds have the power to trigger the mind and bring these memories flooding back.

I wish I could go back to relive those parts of life to recapture the feelings and sensations. Happy memories of pleasant times where life seemed simpler, sweeter, and not so complex. I often feel this way around the holidays as I look at old pictures of my family gathered around a festive table, carving a pumpkin, or sitting by the Christmas tree.  When I look at paintings of the holidays in times past, there is a wistful, yearning feeling of wanting to be there. Nostalgia.

Life can be chaotic and unpredictable. I wonder if our adult brains unconsciously seek out the sights, scents, and sounds of those times where things were ordered, reliable, safe, and predictable. I think God wired us to treasure and preserve those moments. We can pull them from our heart-memories as a comfort and break from the monotony and loneliness of life. Blessings.

I think I will pray that nostalgia visits me often, like an old, dear friend; full of comfort, comradery, and memories to make me smile. What a gift!

Look to the Clouds

~ Extravagant Hope ~ Leave a comment

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.