When Life Hands You Ribbons

            The other day, after her nap, I asked Ruthie to go put her dress back on as she had slept in just her leggings.  At the mere suggestion that she do this by herself, she melted into a puddle on the floor and cried,

            “But I need you to help me!”

            It is my constant battle to try and get her to do things on her own, so I simply stated,

            “You know how to put your dress on.”

            “But I can’t tie the ribbon!” she wailed.

            This particular dress had a ribbon that tied in the back.

            “I will help you with the ribbon,” I assured her.  “Now please go put your dress on.”  I went about the business of getting snack ready and Ruthie dragged herself into her bedroom.  For the next ten minutes, she wailed and cried and created as much drama as she could possibly muster.  I could see through her partially opened door that she had her dress on, so I continued to do my own thing, allowing her time to work it out.  Eventually, she emerged complete with tears and snot dripping down her face, the ends of the two ribbons in her sweaty little hands.

            “I can’t tie the ribbon,” she wailed again.

            “Oh, honey,” I said as I grabbed a tissue and helped her blow her nose, “I never asked you to tie the ribbon.  I told you I’d do that part.”

 *

            Fast forward a few days to me, wailing on the phone to my mom, overwhelmed by all that I needed to get done.  And what started as feeling overwhelmed by my current circumstances, led into being overwhelmed by all that my life wasn’t, isn’t and never will be.  It was the ultimate of pity parties.  As I hung up the phone, tears on my face and snot dripping out of my nose, Ruthie slowly approached me, handed me a tissue and gave me a hug.  Suddenly, I saw myself in my little girl’s shoes: standing there with ribbons in my hands, feeling overwhelmed by the requirements of life.  As I blew my nose, I heard the Lord say,

            “Oh, Tiffany.  I never asked you to tie all these ribbons.  I never asked you to maneuver this life alone.  Come to me, and I will give you rest.   Put on the “dress” of My love; you don’t have to tie the ribbon, I already did that part.”

“Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.  Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.” ~Matthew 11:28-30

“I have come that you may have life, and that you may have it more abundantly.” ~John 10:10

Rainy Days

          It’s mid-June and it seems the rain will never end.  This past Wednesday (6/15) was the worst.  I woke up to rain, my daughter and I went for a walk in the rain; all day long it alternated between brief, mocking sun breaks, and pouring down rain.  As the day progressed, my mood seemed to reflect the weather.  I could find nothing to be cheery about, and as a result, my daughter’s mood began to reflect my own.  I was whining in my heart, and she was whining openly and vocally about everything.  Not a winning combination. 

Somehow we made it through the morning, whined our way through lunch, and now were very ready for glorious nap time.  As I was pulling the shade in Ruthie’s room, I muttered out loud, “Will this rain ever stop?”  And then, out of the mouth of my sweet babe, I heard, “But, Mom, the rain makes everything grow!”  It does, indeed.  “You are so right,” I said.  “Thank you for reminding me.”  And for our naptime prayer, we thanked God for the rain that makes this part of the world so beautiful.

As I closed her door, I found myself with a new attitude and a determination to redeem our morning with a much better afternoon.  While Ruthie slept, I unloaded my overflowing basket of magazines, keeping the newest issues, and piling the rest in the middle of the living room floor.  I dug out Ruthie’s scissors, set them on the pile, then went about my chores as I waited for her to wake up.  As I cleaned and baked, I pictured in my mind all the beautiful things outside my front door that are only there because of the rain: green grass, a forest of trees, fields of daisies, my favorite wild irises.  So much lush beauty that only comes because God gives us rain. 

When Ruthie woke up, I showed her the pile of magazines and the scissors.  “We’re going to make a Rainy Day book,” I said.  Her eyes lit up as I explained that we could look through the magazines and cut out pictures of things that we are thankful for because of the rain: flowers, trees, fruits & vegetables, puddles, etc.  When we were finished, we could glue them onto colorful paper and make a book, then we’d always be reminded that God gives us rain to make everything grow, just like she said.  We spent the next hour, flipping through the pages of Better Homes & Gardens magazine, cutting out pictures of pretty flowers.  We never finished the book, because, as I recall, the sun came out that afternoon and we set aside our clippings to go play outside. 

Later, after Ruthie was tucked in bed for the night, I put all of our beautiful pictures of flowers and garden produce into a folder, ready to be pulled out on another rainy day.  As I did, the Lord whispered to my heart that it’s not just this world that grows more beautiful from the rain, but our hearts, too.  It’s the rainy days and storms in my life that provide opportunity for growth.   I can choose to complain and whine, or I can choose to let the Lord do some cutting and pasting and transform my heart into something beautiful, something reflective of the God that created it.  Whether Ruthie and I ever finish our Rainy Day book or not, it doesn’t matter.  But I hope I’ll always remember that it’s the rain that makes everything grow—whether it be carrots and flowers, or hearts and attitudes—the Lord sends the rain, and the rain is good.

Loved

            A few weeks ago, my husband and I curled up on the couch and enjoyed a romantic movie about a man and a woman whose love defeated all the odds.  It was a classic tale of boy-meets-girl, boy-loses-girl, and boy-gets-girl-again, only the end twisted itself into a heartbreaking picture of dementia in which the boy has the girl, and yet has lost her at the same time.  But their love defeated even those odds. 

As the credits rolled, I said, somewhat jokingly, “Will you love me like that when I’m old and don’t know who you are anymore?” 

Dave “hmphed” and leaned forward to turn down the volume, resting his elbows on his knees.  As he turned his head to look at me, I saw a single tear rolling down his cheek.  My own tears quickly pooled at the sight of his emotion, and my mind began to whirl, trying to figure out what had moved him so deeply.  The movie was good, but not that good.  As I settled on a reason, I asked,

“Are you thinking about Grandpop?”  His grandfather had been overtaken by Alzheimer’s before passing away nearly ten years ago.

He smiled and said, “No,” as another tear slipped by.  Quickly wiping it away, he turned to me and said, “I just don’t ever want to live without you.”

My tears flowed freely now as we wrapped our arms around each other and sat there on the couch, listening to the quiet music from the movie.  Only my tears now were not from the sorrow of thinking Dave was experiencing emotional pain from a sad memory, but from the overwhelming realization of the depth of love my husband has for me.  Oftentimes, after watching a romantic movie, I find myself thinking, Does my husband love me like that?  I know deep down that real love seldom wears the sparkly bling that dons the heart of Hollywood, but a girl can dream, and a girl always wonders, Am I that desirable?  But now, sitting there on our faded old couch, in our little red barn in a green valley in Sandy, Oregon, I had my answer.  No bling, no glamour, no Hollywood drama.  Just the real thing, wrapped up in real emotion, and spilling over with joy.

For the last few weeks, that joy has continued.  Every time I think of that moment, a smile creeps across my face and I find myself wanting to run into the arms of my husband and just stay there forever.  There’s a lightness in my step and a fullness in my heart.  It’s not that I ever doubted he loved me, we tell each other often, but to have such an honest, unexpected, deep expression of his love is elating and filling and freeing.  It’s the stuff dreams are made of; it’s a fairytale come true.

It wasn’t until I was at Bible study, and we were reading Sally Lloyd-Jones’ telling of the story of Pentecost from The Jesus Storybook Bible, that God whispered truth into my heart and opened my eyes to another fairytale, just as real and just as true.  As she tells of the Holy Spirit coming upon the disciples, Lloyd-Jones writes:

“They had seen Jesus go away, but now he was closer than he had ever been—inside their hearts.  And this time nothing could ever separate them.  Jesus would always be there.  With them.  Loving them.  Whispering the promise that would get rid of the poison and the terrible lie and the sickness in their hearts.  God’s wonderful promise to them: ‘You are my child.  And I love you.’”

We also read John 15.  Verse 9 says, “As the Father loved Me, I also have loved you; abide in My love.”  Suddenly, it was as if Jesus was there, holding my hand in both of His, tears spilling down His cheeks saying, I didn’t want to ever have to live without you, so I died on the cross for you.  I defeated death itself so we could be together.  You are that desirable.  I love you; I will always love you.  Now live in My love; live free and live full.  I delight in you.  “These things I have spoken to you, that My joy may remain in you, and that your joy may be full” (John 15:11). 

There is no more an honest, deep expression of love than Jesus’ death on the cross.  The real thing, wrapped up in real emotion, and spilling over with joy.  To be filled up with this truth is elating and filling and freeing.  God loves me, fully, wholly, completely.  He delights in me, He desires me.  True story.  

Divine Delays

“The LORD is near to all who call upon Him,

To all who call upon Him in truth.

He will fulfill the desire of those who fear Him;

He also will hear their cry and save them.”

Psalm 145:18-19

            We are quickly approaching the three year mark of trying to get pregnant, unsuccessfully.  Up until this point, every time I asked the Lord if we should be doing something “more” I heard the same answer: Wait.  In the waiting, I have vacillated between confidence in the Lord’s word to me and second guessing my hearing Him correctly.  I have wavered between giving over my desire to Him, knowing that in His love, He only desires good for me, and holding onto my desire so tightly there is no room for anything else. 

            Recently, someone told me about a doctor in an integrative medical clinic.  This clinic has both medical doctors and naturopathic doctors working together to give their patients the best of both worlds.  The head naturopathic doctor also specializes in hormonal imbalance issues.  It seemed like the perfect place to start getting some answers.  After all, what harm could there be in at least finding out if there was something wrong.  So, I made an appointment, and waited the 3 or 4 months for that day to arrive.  During that time, I questioned whether I had made the right decision.  I know that if there was something wrong, God could fix it if He wanted to; He made my body and is in control of how it’s working.  But, on the other hand, He also gave us educated people to help heal and correct things that have gone wrong.  Again, I found myself going back and forth.  Every time I sought God on the issue, I came back with silence.  So I kept my appointment.

            That appointment was last week.  They asked me a bunch of questions, then sent me home with a list of blood labs to be done the following week, this week.  I felt excited at the possibility of getting some answers, finally.  The day before going to get my blood drawn, I decided I’d better call the lab and get an idea of how much this was going to cost, since we hadn’t paid anything out on our deductible this year.  When I hung up from that phone call, I felt as if a door had just slammed in my face.  The labs totaled almost $800.  I fell asleep that night crying out to God for an answer, for some sort of guidance, for anything; I needed to hear from Him.

            The next day I called the doctor’s office, and the receptionist told me to check out a website that offered discounted lab work.  I went right away to my sister’s house to get online, patiently searched out each individual lab test, and discovered that it would save us a whopping $50.  My heart sank.  I decided to check my email, since I was already online and found a forwarded devotional from my mom.  The subject line said “Divine Delays,” and the Scripture at the top was Psalm 145: 18-19:  “The Lord is near to all who call upon Him, to all who call upon Him in truth.  He will fulfill the desire of those who fear Him; He also will hear their cry and save them.”  The text of the devotional had little to do with me or my situation, but that subject line combined with those verses was like a loud shout from the Lord, an answer to my prayer from the night before.  “I am right here,” He was saying, “I hear you.  Trust in Me.”

            Whether He will fulfill my desire for another child, I do not know.  But I do know He sees me, and I do know He loves me, and for whatever reason, He’s asking me to wait and to trust in Him.  But with my God, that doesn’t mean waiting empty-handed, but rather with my arms fully wrapped around a Father who hears my cry and offers the fullness of Himself to all who call upon Him.

“Wait on the Lord;

Be of good courage,

And He shall strengthen your heart;

Wait, I say, on the Lord!”

~Psalm 27:14

Father,

            Thank you for hearing my prayer.  Thank you for speaking to my soul.  Give me courage, and strengthen my heart as I wait on You.

                                                                        Amen.

Peace to You

            Lately, when my 3 ½-year-old daughter first wakes up in the morning, she patters into the living room, climbs into my lap and curls up there.  I wrap my arms around her and we just sit and breathe.  In those few brief moments, when everything is still, I close my eyes and am filled with the peace and joy and love that comes from her just being there, from us just being together. 

            It was during one of those moments, that the impact of this week’s Bible study lesson hit me.  We were to read about Jesus’ ascension into heaven from all four Gospels, and then also read John 14.  Suddenly I found myself enveloped in the embrace of the Father, curled up in His lap, soaking up His love, and realizing that His desire is for me to be there, with Him, in complete peace. 

            In My Father’s house are many mansions…I go to prepare a place for you.  And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself; that where I am, there you may be also (John 14:2-3).

            I will not leave you orphans; I will come to you (14:18).

            Because I live, you will live also.  At that day you will know that I am in My Father, and you in Me, and I in you (14:19-20).

            If anyone loves Me, he will keep My word; and My Father will love him, and We will come to him and make Our home with him (14:23).

            The God of the Universe wants to be with me, wants to hold me, wants to make His home with me, and Jesus Christ, His Son, died, and defeated death in order to make this possible.

            Peace I leave with you, My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you.  Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid (14:27).

            When Ruthie is curled up in my lap, she is not troubled, or afraid.  She knows I will make her breakfast and take care of her needs; she knows I love her and will always love her.  In John 14, Jesus promises the disciples His peace.  In John 20, after He has conquered death itself, He appears to His disciples again, and the first words out of His mouth?  “Peace be with you” (20: 19).  He has come back from the dead, back to life, and joyfully offers us His peace.  Jesus continually rested in the strength of His Father, completely confident in His ability to take care of all things, completely aware of His Father’s love for Him.  Jesus went to the cross to make us His brothers and sisters, to offer us a place on His Father’s lap, a place of peace and confidence and security.  Why do I think the God who created this very world might not be able to handle my problems?  Why do I allow fears and troubles to creep in and cloud my view of His love?  Why do I spend so little time curled up in His lap, just sitting there, breathing in the very presence of Him and resting in the solidity of a relationship He died to give me? 

           

            Father,

                        You have proved time and time again that You are God, that You are real, that You are Love and, amazingly, that You long for my embrace.  Help me to put aside the cares of this world in order that I might curl up in Your lap of peace and strength and security.  May I be so close to You that my ear hears the beat of Your heart. 

                                                                                                Amen. 

Can I Recognize God?

            This morning (March 9^th) it felt like Spring.  It was 50º outside, there was just a touch of blue in the distant corner of the sky, and for the first time in a long time my daughter and I went for a walk without our winter coats. 

            “I hear the birds!” Ruthie exclaimed with excitement once we’d passed our rushing creek, full with melting snow.

            “Yeah, they’re singing; they’re excited because Spring is coming.”  I hadn’t noticed them before, but now their chorus filled my ears.  I am always so grateful to be drawn in to the delighted eyes and ears of my 3 ½ year old; she notices so much and draws my attention to all the little things that I would otherwise miss.

            As we walked on, I felt awake and new to the joys of this beautiful earth.  Every step felt invigorating.  When we were nearing home, God reminded me of a conversation Ruthie and I had a few days ago.  She had expressed frustration that she couldn’t see God, and as it was bedtime, I had simply stated that He was everywhere and left it at that.  But now, out in Creation, it was clearly evident that God was, indeed, everywhere.

            “Look, Ruthie!  Everywhere we look, we can see God.  Everything we see tells us about Him.”

            She smiled and began looking around with anticipation on her face.  I gave her an example:

            “I see God in the road we’re walking on, because He leads us in the way we should go.  And I see God in our home, because in it we are safe, just like we’re safe in God.  Where do you see God?”

            “I see God in that bird,” she offered.

            “Yes,” I said, “because God lifts us up on wings like a bird.”

            “It’s a robin!”
            “We can see God in the robin, because a robin tells us that Spring is coming, and in God, all things are made new.”

            “I see God in the puddles,” she said with a big smile.

            “Yes, because stomping in the puddles brings us joy, and so does God!”

            We went on like this for some time, Ruthie pointing out every little thing she saw, and me doing my best to point out God in each thing.  It wasn’t until she pointed out our burn pile, which is currently burning, that I thought about this week’s lesson for my Bible study.

            “I see God in our burn pile.”

            “Because God is like the fire, burning away all that is bad, or that isn’t needed, or that isn’t of Him.”  I don’t know how that translated into her 3-year-old mind, but I know how it hit mine.  Our lesson this week was on the crucifixion of Jesus.  I’d read the story in all four Gospels for three mornings in a row.  I’d been praying for something new, for God to open my eyes to something I hadn’t seen before.  It wasn’t until I read Luke 23 in the Amplified version that God answered my prayer.  To set the scene, the sky had turned black.  The earth trembled.  And Jesus had just died:

            “Now the centurion, having seen what had taken place, recognized God and thanked and praised Him…” (verse 47).

            Ruthie and I had been recognizing God in all the beauty of creation, but what about the burn pile?  What about the smoke and ashes?  What about destruction?  What about when everything seems to be going wrong?  What about when the thing I wanted is out of reach, or burned up, can I still find God?  Can I still recognize Him?  And even more than recognize Him, can I thank and praise Him? 

            Jesus lived on this earth in order that we might know the Truth, the God who loves and treasures us; He died to set us free to love Him in return.  If I look to my circumstances, life can be overwhelming when things don’t go my way, but if I look to the truth of a God who died for the love of me, and rose again so that I might live with Him forever, what can I do but thank and praise Him?   In the middle of a broken world that doesn’t always seem to go right, I pray I can still see God, and know that He is still in control, and that out of the ashes comes life and love and trust in a God whose heart burns for me.

            Holy Father,

                        Help me to be like the centurion and recognize You in all things, whether good or bad, beautiful or ugly.  And in seeing You, may I glorify You and bear witness to the Truth of who You are: King of my life, King of all.

                        Amen.

Lost My Focus

I have my best quiet times in the morning.  If I try to do it any other time during the day, it rarely happens.  So, if I get out of bed by 5:45, I have enough time to make my husband’s sandwich for his lunch, eat my breakfast, and spend some time in the Word until my daughter wakes up.  This is great, but recently my husband hasn’t had to get up as early, which means I haven’t been getting up as early, which means my quiet times have hardly begun before they’re interrupted with, “Mommy, can I get up now?”  Add to this, the trauma of my recent decision to join a writer’s group through my church.  What was I thinking?  I now have to have something to read in front of seven strangers by Sunday.  Ever since I went to the first informational meeting a week and a half ago, my mind has been completely wiped clean of any creative inspiration whatsoever.  I most often write out of what God speaks to me during my quiet times, but, as I’ve already mentioned, those times have been, well, quiet.  Gulp.  Panic. 

Why don’t You help me, Lord?  Why aren’t You speaking to me?  Here I am flailing, and I get nothing.  Maybe I’m not supposed to be a writer.  Obviously I don’t have what it takes; as soon as a deadline flashes, fear sets in. 

I turned to Psalm 5, feeling the cry of David in my own soul:

Listen to my words, O Lord, give heed to my sighing and groaning.  Hear the sound of my cry, my King and my God, for to You do I pray.  In the morning You hear my voice, O Lord; in the morning I prepare [a prayer, a sacrifice] for You and watch and wait [for You to speak to my heart] (verses 1-3, Amplified).

Oh.  It seems I’ve been forgetting one vital piece of the puzzle.  I’ve been sighing and groaning and crying for the Lord to speak to me, but have I prepared myself for Him?  Have I sacrificed my sleep and my warm bed to make time to listen?  Have I set aside my own agenda of wanting something brilliant to share with my writing group to really hear what the Lord wants to speak to my heart?  I think not. 

Dear Father,

            Forgive me for coming to You selfishly, for desiring Your words in order to impress others.  Forgive me for worshipping the goddess of sleep more than You.  I want to make preparation now for my sacrifice in the morning.  When my alarm rings, help my feet to hit the floor.  Speak to my heart in the quiet cold of our home so that I might know You more.

Amen.