I cannot even recall the last time I blogged.  It has been uncomfortably long enough that I removed my blog link on my email signature.  The constant reminder that I had not written one word felt like a pebble in my shoe, I needed to get rid of it.  

There is a correlation between my silence here and my heart.  So many thoughts have been bouncing around in my soul and I have found myself unable to reign them in.  Perhaps I am experiencing what St. John of the Cross spoke of..."the dark night of the soul."  Lest I give the impression that I am in a pit of despair, I am not.  However, I do believe God is exposing my heart and bringing me to a new awareness of who he is and what it means for me to truly follow him as the disciples did.  I am at cross hairs with God's truth and how that truth is seen in my life.  My heart yearns for what God offers.

What's Left Behind

We get the local paper every morning.  My husband, who doesn't have time to read it in the morning, leaves it for me in the same spot on the kitchen table every day.  It beckons to me with it's freshly printed, nicely folded pages and catchy headlines inviting me to read the stories below.  I succumb but not before scrambling an egg, toasting my bread and pouring myself an unsweetened glass of tea.  

I never start with the front page...too much bad news too soon.  So I head for the local section then on to the pages that contains my favorite part of the newspaper, the comic strips!  Before diving in to the big news articles, I gingerly turn to the obituaries, the ultimate in bad news.

For the most part, I usually know when someone has passed away before it makes the paper, but there have been a few times when I've been shocked and surprised to see the picture of an old acquaintance.  You'd think with my aversion to bad news I wouldn't even venture to that section.  What draws me is a fascination with the words used to honor those who have passed away.  Having written two obituaries myself I've decided a few columns of verbiage only give the reader a slight window into the heart of the individual being grieved.

Perhaps I'm alone in this, but I want to read more than a list of accomplishments.  I find myself reading between the lines looking for a clue that will tell me about the character of the one whose picture speaks of happier times.  In other words, I wonder, besides the laundry list of jobs and awards what the deceased left to those left behind, and I'm not talking about money or things.

Back in January, I was able to accompany my husband to Thailand to attend a conference at which he was the speaker.  Toward the end of the week we attended a dinner for those who were involved in the week long symposium.  At our table were men and women with an obvious love for the Lord and a passion for spreading the Gospel.  Several of the men in attendance were successful professionals hailing for all over the globe.  Men who generously offered their resources and expertise to the organization that hosted the event.

During dinner I had an interesting discussion with one gentleman about his family.  Without much provocation on my part, he went from telling me general information about his family to asking me, in a round about way, if I thought he was doing a good job as a Dad.  Quite a deep question.

Apparently, both this gentleman's children are exceptional in tennis.  So talented, he and his wife set up a home in another state to allow their kids an opportunity to be a part of an intensive training program to further develop their skill.  His wife lives with the children and he sees them every two to three weeks.

By sharing his angst with me, a virtual stranger, it was clear he was experiencing a great deal of turmoil regarding this arrangement.  Since he opened the door, I gingerly stepped through it and asked him if there was anything he could do to change the situation, to which he quickly replied, "I've worked hard to get where I am.  And as a result my kids have this great chance to receive outstanding training."  But just as quickly, with eyes downcast, he quietly said, "I wonder if it's the right thing.  I don't get to spend much time with them and I feel like I'm missing out on knowing who they are right now."

I had just met the man and didn't think it was appropriate to give my sage advice at that time, in that setting.  So, instead, I gave him what I hoped was a warm smile of encouragement and with that the conversation ended.  That one exchange has stuck with me and led me to ponder what really is important to kids? 

Throughout our ministry, I have had countless opportunities to talk with folks about their families and more often than not, the subject of their family of origin comes up.  Some of the stories I've heard have been wonderful and heartwarming.  Others have broken my heart.

What I've come away with is that kids of all ages want their parents to be a solid, safe place. They want parents who are men and women of  good character because good character in Mom and Dad means a foundation on which they can model their own lives.

Spending time with family is huge but it's so much more than simply time.  It's about substance. The man at dinner was worried about time when he should have been concerned with substance and character.  His children will probably be thankful for the incredible chance they had to be more proficient in tennis.  However, will being away from their Dad physically, emotionally and spiritually cause them to wish for what our hearts long for from our own earthly parents?Deep, soul-satisfying connection?

Some day my dinner companion's children are going to be faced with the task of writing their father's obituary.  What will they say?  What will they treasure in their hearts for the rest of their days?  For that matter, what will my kids write about me?  

Watching for Weeds

According to the experts, our area has been in a severe drought for almost four years.  During the worst of it, only the strongest and hardiest vegetation survived.  Where tender shoots of grass once grew, weeds of every variety took over.  So, instead of mowing lush, green lawns, folks were busy hacking down weeds.

This season, however, the skies have done more than just promise rain they've delivered it.  Some days it's been gentle and steady.  Other days, the clouds have turned gunmetal gray, bumping around in the atmosphere causing thunder and lightning, while bursting open and soaking the earth.  Now instead of parched ground, our fair town looks like Emerald City.  I'm thrilled, except for one thing.  The weeds are bigger, healthier and more prolific than ever!  I actually believe that if I stood still long enough I would be covered in weeds, unable to move.

I'm sick of these pesky plans that grow where they're not wanted.  You have them.  They're tenacious.  They survive in any environment; they compete with the shrubs you purposely plant, for sunlight, water and mineral nutrients.  Some are even more sinister and grow directly on your plants and either weaken or kill them.  You can pull them, whack them and try to obliterate them but still they come.

What can I do about my weeds?  Should I just give in?  Deny their existence?  Feed them? Whatever I choose I am sure that to ignore them means my yard will become a chaotic, tangled mess.

Several years ago, agriculturalist in Oregon stumbled upon a new variety they dubbed the "slender false brome, an aggressive, invasive weed known to suppress the growth of native plant species."  According to their report, this weed quickly colonized 10,000 acres of forest.  It spread so rapidly there were no bare spots left on the forest floor.  The state of Oregon would have been foolish not to address this.  As foolish as we are not to address, as Hebrews 12:1 says, "the sin that so easily entangles us."

The problem in trying to eradicate the "slender false brome" is that it isn't an ugly weed.  The neighborhoods surrounding the forest were unaware that what looked like an unusual type of grass was killing the forest and their yards slowly but surely.

Perhaps today you'll ask the Creator of the perfect garden to reveal the weeds, both obvious and disguised, that are growing in the soil of your soul.  As he does, allow him to dig down to the root to remove any trace of the sin that entangles so you will become fully grown in the Lord.

Remembering...

Anniversaries mark an event that was memorable and important. We celebrate wedding anniversaries and we remember events that changed lives. Days like September 11th, 2001, the day we lost a job, got divorced or a love one passed away. Today is an anniversary in our family...a day we will never forget.

Our youngest daughter put her feelings in an email and did it so well I want to share them with you.

"I'm sure most of your remember this day a year ago. It is one that I seldom forget. A year ago "our" sweet Pop-Pop went home to be with the Lord! I can just imagine him there now! There have been so many wonderful events and moments that he has been able to see from the best seat in the house! :) I know you all miss him and share with me on a day like today where I wish he was still here! I hope you all take time to remember what Pop-Pop meant to each of you and celebrate a YEAR of his life with our sweet Heavenly Father!

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.
You make me happy when skies are gray.
You'll never know dear how much I love you.
Please don't take my sunshine away!"

For those of you who were wondering who sings the song on the video, it is David Crowder.  I first heard this song on a blog called "Bring the Rain," a powerful story of struggle in the life of a young mom.  Someone sent the link to me, and after hearing what the content was I really, really didn't want to read it, however, after taking a quick look, I knew that God was going to use this woman's journey in my life.  And indeed he has.

Here is the link:  http://audreycaroline.blogspot.com

All I Can Say

Enter this "thin place" at your own risk.

Still thinking about "thin places."  Troubled by my avoidance of them all the while knowing relief is offered there.  Intimacy with the Almighty that calls me to trust and let go.  Such a foreign concept to most.  Wanting to learn to be inspired rather than impulsive.  Yearning to "step back into the gentle, transforming silence of attentiveness, paying attention to what I am feeling and surrendering those feelings to God."  

A sweet friend of mine who has had an unbelievably difficult two years, sent me this article which has resonated in me and caused me to ask myself how often I go to the "thin places."

"Often when we use the term "thin," it connoted weakness, such as our patience is wearing thin, or thinning paint, or judging content to be thin.  Celtic spirituality, however, puts a completely different spin on thin.

The Celtics called something thin when the veil between this kingdom and God's becomes transparent enough for us to glimpse God's presence near us.  "Thin places," the Celtics said, are those moments when we can see God's loving hand at work in our life.  Places and moments become thin when someone remembers your pain or offers a helping hand, when words of love arrive unexpectedly, whenever a friend shares tears or belly shaking laughter.  Jesus, of course, was especially thin by Celtic definition.  In his life, we see God the most clearly.

"Thin places" are stopping places where men and women are given pause to wonder about what lies beyond the mundane rituals, the grief, trials and boredom of our day-to-day life.  They probe to the core of the human heart and open the pathway that leads to satisfying the familiar hungers and yearnings common to all people on earth, the hunger to be connected, to be a part of something greater, to be loved, to find peace.  And that "thin place" is found only in Jesus Christ."