Showing posts with label mercy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mercy. Show all posts

Monday, May 4, 2020

Children and Hollyhocks

My dining room is full of hollyhocks. Last year, I had the grand idea of planting 400 pots of these lovely flowers--the former owners of our home grew old fashioned hollyhocks on our property and I love their sweet, simple beauty. We have a farm stand; I sell flowers there sometimes, and so last fall, I collected thousands of tiny hollyhock seeds with the intention of planting them in the early spring to sell on our farm stand. 



I dried the seeds painstakingly and protected them from the little mice that sometimes appear in the attic of our old farmhouse. I collected yogurt and other plastic containers as well as pre-used plastic flower pots. They quickly began to fill our little milk house (where I keep some of my gardening things). In the early spring, I began to fill pots up with my two children and my niece. 400 pots in an attic is a lot of pots! I realized this mid-job. And yet, undeterred, we carried on. At the end of it all, we filled a little over 300 pots with garden soil; then came the job of sorting the seeds and planting them in the pots. This took several days. At the end of it all, when my little seedlings started to sprout, I realized that the attic wasn't providing enough light! There is one large window in our attic and many of the plants weren't getting the light from that window--they were looking sickly--I would say that they were looking green and sickly, but plants are supposed to be green ;-). And so, I decided to transfer the over-300 hollyhock babies into my light-filled dining room (well, at least when the clouds aren't hiding the sun here in the sometimes-temperamental Midwest ;-)). I set up folding tables in my dining room and made a kind of greenhouse there--I could watch the plants and water them and pray that they would grow being right before my very eyes as I  home schooled my two children at our dining room table. 

As I went through this process, a lot of thoughts went through my mind. I do a lot of gardening, but have never grown plants on this "grand" scale, and well, I was learning all along the way! I believe that the Lord teaches us His lessons through everyday, very common things, and all sorts of "lessons" came into my thinking. Many of them were related to my children and I began making connections between growing these 300 plus hollyhock babies and raising them. 

I wanted to share some of the little lessons that the Lord brought to my mind and my heart as I tended to my hollyhocks; they were an encouragement and a reminder to me--I pray that they will also be to you!




The soil must be deep and have good drainage~~
We had to fill over 300 pots and containers to grow our hollyhock seeds. I had all different kinds of containers, some gifted to and some acquired by me.  I realized that the "shallower" pots were not going to allow my seeds to grow properly into plants, so I tried to select the ones that would allow the roots to go down deep enough to be established. The containers that didn't have holes in the bottom (such as yogurt containers, etc.) required them for drainage, and so my nephew used his drill to put drainage holes into the bottoms of them. 

The same is true for children. Our homes are like our "pots." The kind of "pots" that we have will determine strongly what kind of "plants" or adults our children will become. Our homes (growing containers :-)) must be deep spiritually. They must contain the rich, nourishing soil of the Word of God. They must be filled with the fertilizer of truth and righteousness mixed alongside the minerals of mercy and forgiveness. We "water" our little seeds in our homes with love and wholesome words, with the refreshment of loving discipline and with words of exhortation and encouragement. And we never want that "water" to be stagnant, sitting at the bottom of the pot, creating a moldy mess--it is needs to be clean, clear, and flowing, creating and causing the seeds to come out of their shell and emerge into the light. Our words and actions in our homes should effect change and transformation, not stagnation or frustration. How many of us need help in this area? I know that I do! Only the grace and work of the Holy Spirit in our hearts and homes will make a transforming difference--creating peace out of chaos. Our "wells" are not deep enough--and often they run dry. The Holy Spirit is a daily, living resource to tap into--where the life-giving water that always flows runs continually. When we admit that we are not able, not capable, and reach out our hands to Him, He fills our empty" "watering cans" with His water. 



Hollyhocks and other plants need light to thrive and grow
Another lesson that I learned as I planted and watched my little hollyhocks sprout up is the importance of light. I thought that our attic might be a good place to keep these little hollyhocks--it has a good sized window and a fair amount of light. But the more that I watched my hollyhocks develop, the more that I realized that the light there just wasn't enough. Many of the hollyhocks in the corners of the attic had weak stems and looked sickly. I quickly assessed the situation and decided that the hollyhocks needed an exodus downstairs into my dining room (where there is a lot more light) if they were going to survive and thrive. My kids and I tromped up and down the stairs, transferring all of those little seedlings before it was too late. I think that this step of action saved them from certain death--they began to lift their little heads up and their stems looked less "see-through." They were becoming more hearty. 

Isn't this true of our children, too? They need sunshine in their lives--creativity, meaningful conversations with adults, someone to read to them, someone to imaging and to play with them, someone to encourage them in their creativity and in their daily work. They also need the sunshine or light of being daily taught about Jesus --It's fascinating in a very simple way that Jesus is called "the Light" of the world." What does light do? It illuminates darkness. Bringing Jesus perpetually and continually into our conversations with our children and into our daily actions as we walk with Him as a Friend in our homes brings a sunshiny glow to our children's upbringing--a joy that can only come through the Holy Spirit of God and His sustaining influence in our lives as He illumines our darkness. 

Do you crave this kind of light? I know that I do~~call out to Jesus and He will teach you how to bring His light into your home~~He never turns away anyone who asks. We can try to create a "spiritual home atmosphere," but it is only when we invite the Holy Spirit in that this will become real and alive. Let the sunshine of His sweet presence fill your soul early in the day--spend time in His Word--talk to Him--and then bring that sunshine into your home as you talk to and teach and discipline and love your children. He will help you; He will do the work as you obey Him. 

Hollyhocks need water 
Oh, yes! This is important! As a busy mom, often "watering" was one of the last things on my mind. I had to keep reminding myself to water those little seedlings in the attic, and then to continue to consistently water them after they made their short journey downstairs. It's truly amazing what a big difference a little water makes!  A couple of days of neglect and my little seedlings were looking pale and weak. As soon as I watered them consistently, they thrived. 

Isn't this true in a child's life as well? At times, we grow "busy" with all of the responsibilities of daily life. We live in a world that encourages this kind of busy, rushing and racing around. We also deal daily with all of the distractions of technology--often we "connect" with people who we don't really know to the neglect of those closest to us! Friend, often I need to remind myself to be "busy" with what is truly the Lord's work--making certain that what I am doing is really His will for my life. At times, I've been sidetracked and distracted by the cares of this life, or caught up in some project or interest that is a weight and a worry to me. During those times, I've sensed the Holy Spirit lovingly and firmly drawing me back to Himself, to what is really important--to "feeding" the little sheep that He has given to me. Often, we are throwing water all over the place--little bits and droplets here and there when we should be concentrating on the specific purposes that God has called us to in our lives. One of these if we have children, is the souls of our little ones. As believers, this should be one of our primary concerns and focuses of our life. How do we "water" our little ones? The answer is TIME and consistency. We give them our time, we teach them in the ways of the Lord, we bring them alongside of us as much as we are able in our projects and pursuits, we deal with discipline issues rather than ignoring them; we pray daily for their souls and encourage them to walk with the Lord in their little lives. And when we "water" our children daily, without neglecting them, we will see the miracle of God's hand causing them to thrive and grow in His time. 

The little seedlings need to be supported and established.  
This is probably one of the most important lessons that I learned in this whole process. As the little hollyhock seedlings began to pop out of the soil, they were leaning--their weak stems weren't strong enough to hold many of them up. My Mom suggested that I put a little more soil around each one of them and gently push the soil near the base of the stem to support the plant and to encourage it to "straighten up." It took me about a week to painstakingly go through almost every little hollyhock plant and to gently reinforce it's stem. At the end of the process, some of the little plants died, but most of them started looking a little stronger and perking up. It was worth it to take that week and to meticulously go through almost every plant. 



This was one of the strongest lessons that struck home to me as it relates to children. Sometimes there are "weak spots" that we see in the way that we have raised our little ones. It may be a discipline issue, it may be a parenting issue on our end in some particular area. Maybe we should have been more consistent in another area. Our children's "stems" are a little weak and we're not really sure how their final "hollyhock" is going to look! Instead of despairing or allowing discouragement to overwhelm us, the answer comes in painstakingly strengthening the "stems." No matter how long it takes--or how tedious it becomes--the God of all grace is with us to help us.  Perhaps our little seedling's root is not deep enough--we should have pushed the seed in further--perhaps our little seedling did not get enough water or light. The answer is not to give up hope and just let come whatever may--to allow the plant to flop over. The answer is to strengthen the stem of the plant. We do this through prayer--praying over the mistakes we may have made in different areas with our children (and we have all made mistakes; we have all fallen short!) And we do this through carefully doing right in those areas that the Lord has shown us we need to work on. Day by day. Moment by moment. Dealing with the issues--not ignoring them--strengthening the stem. Pushing the rich soil of consistency around the base of the stem. Praying to the Lord to strengthen the little plants and being faithful. The Lord will bless us and our children if we truly want them to love the Lord with all of their hearts and to grow in His ways. He is a God of grace and He will bless us as we obey Him in our lives with our children. 

The plants must be hardened.
After all of the careful days of watering, watching, and protecting, comes the "hardening" phase in the lives of plants. There comes a time, just before the plants are transferred outside completely, that they must adapt to the cooler temperatures that they may face outside, away from the gentle, protecting care of the home and its pretty "unchanging" temperature. And so the plants need to be brought outside for increasingly longer periods of time to get used to being "away from home!" :-) 

Children also need to be "hardened" (and by "hardened," what I don't mean in this context is made less sensitive to the things around them, but more sensitive in His strength through the power and grace of the Holy Spirit). They need to grow strong in their faith when "cooler" winds test them. They need to embrace their faith as their own, and not merely as the faith of their parents. I believe that the greatest thing that this generation needs is young people who take the Lord seriously, who hold the promises of Scripture to heart, who are not afraid to stand in a world that will hate them and persecute them for identifying with Jesus Christ. Our children need to be "hardened." They need to be strong in the Lord and in His mighty power without, finally, our support. I pray this for my children--that they will be willing to stand against the powerful flow of this culture and remain faithful to Jesus Christ until the end. How do we hope that they will do this? Well; ultimately the outcome is in the Lord's hands--but through out daily example, we may encourage them to take a stand against the wickedness of the culture around us. We may instill the principles of Scripture and the theology of the hymns of old into their minds and their hearts. And ultimately, we may be on our knees, imploring the Lord to make our children strong in Him and trusting Him to work in and through them. He is the One who does the work when we humbly come before Him. We need "hardened" (strong, courageous, hearty, bold-in-love) Christians in this world more than ever. And they will be the salt and light of their generation. 

The plants will ultimately reflect His mercy and grace
When all is said and done; when the hollyhocks are brought outside and planted in the warm, receptive soil, when their roots take deep confidence, when their green stems spring up and their beautiful faces reflect the light . . . they are reflecting the mercy and grace of their beautiful Creator  . . . we were only the hands and mouths and feet and hearts that God used, by His grace alone, to plant and to protect and to encourage and to nurture. He does the work in and through us as we yield to Him in the process of bringing our children up by His grace. Each step is grace. Each milestone is a mercy. It is all of Him. And the glory of the flowers that we grow reflect the One who formed their very seed and pronounced it good. Praise be to God for His grace and mercy!



Have you made any mistakes as you grow up your hollyhocks? We have all made mistakes~~thank God for grace, recognize the mistake, and correct it, as He helps and enables you~~get your hands back in the soil and press on through the strength and grace that He alone gives. 

Children and hollyhocks; there are so many wonderful comparisons that can be drawn between "growing" the two. I pray that the Lord will bless these lessons to your heart as much as He has blessed me in teaching me and sharing them. <3 

Thursday, October 31, 2019

Each Perfect Gift~~Book Review


What do you do when the sins of your past rise from the dead? 

Ben Picoletti’s conversion astounded the little town of Chetham, Rhode Island – and no one more than the pastor’s daughter, whose heart Ben seeks to win… despite his shameful history. After all, the cross of Christ has removed Ben’s sins as far as the east is from the west, hasn’t it? 

Yet, as Christmas 1937 draws near, Ben’s past returns to trouble him – and to force Ben to grapple with the practical meaning of forgiveness and grace in his own life… and in the lives of those around him. 

A story for anyone who has ever been haunted by the consequences of choices they once made, Each Perfect Gift brings a message of the true redemption that is found in Christ alone. 

Each Perfect Gift is the first story in the series A LEGACY OF GRACE, an off-shoot of the original A TIME OF GRACE series, featuring beloved Grace Picoletti and Paulie Giorgi. If you crave emotional, old-fashioned stories with strong spiritual heart, a reaffirmation of God's continual work in everyday people's lives and hearts, and memorable characters whose redemption is deep and realistic, you've come to the right place!



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From my sister's desk comes another beautiful, deeply moving novel just in time for the Christmas season. If you have read her A Time of Grace Series, you will recognize the characters from those books as their story continues to unfold in Each Perfect Gift. For those of you who have grown to love Paulie, Grace, Sarah, Dr. Giorgi, and Ben, this book perfectly draws Ben's story to a painfully swelling and then beautifully satisfying close while including those other characters that we have all come to love from Alicia's previous books as she offers us glimpses into each of their journeys. 

I think that I love Alicia's books not just because they are so very well-written and researched, but because she writes with conviction and with compassion; I don't think that I have read one of her books without crying at some point or without relating to at least one of the characters in her books on a deeper level. She writes with conviction in the sense that her books are deeply scriptural and based on scriptural principles without being "preachy." She writes with compassion in the sense that there is always mercy for the sinner in her stories as well as mercy and compassion for those who are often the "outcasts" of Christian "society." 

As usual in Alicia's books, a beautiful thread of redemption runs through--and Each Perfect Gift is no exception~both for the newly-born saint (Ben) and for the sinner (Annie)~~ a thread of redemption that glistens red like Rahab's rope hanging from a window in Jericho. 

The book follows their stories (Ben's and Annie's), giving exquisite attention to detail and drawing the reader's mind and heart back~~again and again~~ to the hope that is found in Jesus Christ despite the mistakes that have been made in the past or the sins that have been committed. 

There is always a way . . . perhaps not a way "out" in the sense of running away from the consequences of sin or from past mistakes, but a way of redemption~~

This book is laced with the truth that God takes even our sinful choices or the choices that we have made in ignorance and works good in and through them when we come to Him in a spirit of humility and repentance and with submission to His perfect plan for our lives in and through our mistakes (not despite them). 

The Lord is able to redeem, restore, rebuild . . . and this is seen in the lives of both Ben and Annie. 


Things that I loved about this book~~

~Ben's struggle to do what is right and his willingness to face the consequences of his past sins rather than running away from them.

~Annie's "hardness" at the beginning of the book that turns to softness near the end at the time of her conversion.

~The characterization of Betty, the Pastor's daughter; I really enjoyed her "inner dialogue" and the glimpses into her mind and heart throughout the book-- I loved the way that the softening of her heart somewhat reversely mirrored that of Annie's softening. 

~The very clear, scriptural salvation message and that message's implications for a believer's everyday choices expressed throughout the decisions that Alicia's characters make throughout the book. 

~The historical accuracy and careful attention to detail.

~The ending of the story and the way in which Alicia beautifully ties all of the details together in her book. 

I won't give away too much of the story, but I would encourage you to read Each Perfect Gift . . . even if you haven't read the A Time of Grace series, Each Perfect Gift may be read as a stand-alone. 

So go on! Pick up a copy and make your self a great big mug of steaming hot chocolate and read this beautiful book . . . it will deeply bless your heart. 

The softcover may be purchased HERE and the Kindle is available HERE



Purchase HERE: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07YMNRRW4

Monday, December 19, 2016

Mercy in the Winter



Sometime ago, I read a Pastor's article about God's justice. He compared it to a harsh winter in the Midwest--fierce, cold, and beautiful all at the same time. I struggled with his comparison and was left somewhat empty, yet feeling the truth at least in part, in his description. 

We moved to the Midwest last year from New England. I have gained a new understanding of a bleak, barren, unbreakable landscape, of miles and miles of empty, open fields whose crops have been harvested and whose surface has been stiffened and stilled by fallen snow. 

I have felt the loneliness and desolation that comes from looking only at that landscape, of dwelling only upon the justice of God, real as it is--of standing in the wind and feeling the cold creep into my bones, remembering the coziness of a New England winter, and longing for light and longer days. 

We've been experiencing temperatures dipping below zero this week (and it is not even technically winter yet). The birds at our feeder are hungry, thankful for the seeds that come easily. The deer and turkeys have come out of hiding, searching for food in all of this white stone stillness. 

I've been pondering that description of God's justice that I mentioned earlier, now that I am experiencing winter in the Midwest for myself. 

And I keep coming back to this truth that I hold near and close in my heart--the truth that sustains me through the cold and gives me hope.--

That His mercy is just as real as His justice--and that the two cannot be separated. 




And I see mercy all around--

Mercy in vast cornfields, their leftover fragments feeding hungry deer . . .

Mercy in birds nests, alone in the barren trees--reminders of the hope of spring--of life coming -even on the coldest days of winter . . .

Mercy in watching the tiny sparrow that the Lord keeps alive day after day--so weak it can barely stand at our feeder to eat--and yet, every morning, there he is . . . 

Mercy in the warmth of Christian brothers and sisters--their love in Him stronger than the grip of winter.  Mercy in their fellowship and kindness.

Mercy in the beauty of a sunrise stretching like a band of fire across the frozen sky. 

Mercy beneath the brittle ground, life buried there in the fallen seeds, waiting, hoping, ready to burst with breath when warmer days come. 

Mercy. 

And mercy will ultimately bury justice deep--place the white lilies of resurrection over its grave and laugh into glory.

Laugh into spring.

Laugh into eternity and song and light and warmth and hope. 

I want to share this story that I have shared before--because it is one that always deeply touches me--one that reminds me of our loving Heavenly Father's care--and one that reminds me--

That in Him there is always mercy--for those who run beneath His covering for shelter--

I read a story, a long time ago now, about a naturalist who was documenting the survival of a flock of juncos (snowbirds) in a harsh winter. She was to record what happened to the juncos over the course of an extremely cold night in blizzard conditions. The temperature dipped well below freezing and the little birds were fighting for their survival. She was not allowed to intervene in any way while she was documenting over the course of the assigned hours. 

The woman struggled not to intervene as she watched the little birds. One junco especially caught her attention; he seemed weaker than the rest. The wind howled and the night grew dark. The little flock flew into a bush as the snow fell hard and deep. The woman felt overwhelmed and finally went to bed, despairing of what would happen to them, especially the weak little junco who had gained her sympathy.

In the morning she flew to the window and beheld the world covered in a thick encrusting of snow. She felt that the juncos could not have survived such conditions until, all of a sudden, the bush where they had flown into the night before, covered completely in a thick layer of snow,  literally burst open. 

The snow from the blizzard had actually kept them warm, provided them a shelter from the frigid cold and preserved their lives. The snow that appeared to be the enemy had actually given them protection and warmth in the midst of the storm. It had been their salvation. (The woman records that then she joyfully threw out handfuls of seed to the birds; she was no longer recording and was so glad that they had survived, especially the weak little junco). 



And I have come to conclude that there is beauty in God's justice only because it is undergirded with mercy. For a just God alone would be a terrible God--and I borrow this thought from (I believe) George MacDonald--one to be feared but not loved. 

But He is not just only; He is a Father of mercy. Light in the winter, shelter in the blizzard, warmth on the coldest day. 

And He will give mercy to anyone who runs to Him for rest. 

And now I can see beauty here, in the unbreakable winter--

The winter broken by the breath of His love. 


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Blessed Christmas, dear friends! May your day be filled with the hope of His mercy and may the year before you be shadowed by His love, provision, and grace. I am thankful for each one of you--for your encouragement, for your thoughts, for your love. 

~~Rebekah
In Him was light and that life was the light of men. John 1:4










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Strangers and Pilgrims on EarthInspire Me MondayLiteracy Musing MondaysThe Modest MomWhat Joy is Mine, A Mama's Story, Mom's the Word, Rich Faith Rising, Cornerstone Confessions, Mom's Morning Coffee, Raising Homemakers, Classical HomemakingA Wise Woman Builds Her Home, Woman to Woman Ministries,  Testimony TuesdayTell His Story, Women With Intention WednesdaysMessy Marriage,  Graced Simplicity, Children Are A Blessing, Imparting Grace, Thought Provoking ThursdaySoul SurvivalGood Morning MondaysThe Weekend BrewCounting My BlessingsThe HomeAcre Hop, Mommy Moments Link UpGrace and Truth LinkupFaith Filled FridayTell It To Me TuesdaysSHINE Blog HopTGI Saturdays Blog HopRaRaLinkupWord of God SpeakBooknificent ThursdayLiving Proverbs 31Sharing His Beauty Blog LinkupCoffee For Your Heart Weekly LinkUpYou're the Star Blog HopHomesteader HopFresh Market Friday

Monday, April 13, 2015

Mercy and a Yellow Warbler


Lacey spring air painted the deck with a thin sheet of frost. The hushed anticipation of renewal was checked by a last thrust of winter’s fading power. The trees swollen with life waited backstage for their coming glory-crowning and the sky held the promise of blue skies and long days coming.

My husband discovered her in the morning. The tiny warbler, like a slip of sunlight on our back porch, lying motionless, lying flightless and afraid. She must have been overzealous, excited by the prospect of sweet new days, of plentiful food, of warm warbler chicks with chirping cries and beating hearts.

Full of spring-life, she flew against the reflecting glass of the window, and she fell. There on the deck, my husband found her cold body, her tiny cold body with the shadow of a heartbeat, the faint whisper of a dying hope in the season of life. I looked at her and the sorrow came over my heart like a veil.

I had to go. I couldn’t stay, and she was dying. Before I left, I said to my husband--remembered something that I had read in a Birding magazine—Rub her body gently with your finger to coax her back to life; the bird may only be stunned, even though she gives the appearance of dying. She may only have had the wind knocked out and needs to be kept warm and regain her strength—

So I asked him to try it and left, doubting that it would work, that revival was a possibility, that the little yellow warbler would taste the sweet air again and feel the delight of spring on her wings.

Thoughts flew through my mind as I drove—if she didn’t improve, we could bring her to the Wildlife Rehabilitation facility in Peace, RI; maybe they could help her-maybe they could do something. What could I do but try and throw a feeble, hopeful suggestion over my shoulder?

So he stayed there with the little warbler and I left. And I hoped as I drove and I prayed . . .

I knew a woman stunned, fallen like the yellow warbler. Her breath knocked from her through the crash of sharp providence, she fell, wounded and unable to pick herself up.

Sometimes tragedy is like that. Sometimes it knocks the wind from us and leaves us so shaken that we cannot pick ourselves up. Sometimes we sit like Job in the dust, speechless and crushed, scraping our wounds with the broken pottery of the well-meaning words of our friends and bleeding the sorrow of the enemies' pompous jeering triumph.

Sometimes we cannot pick ourselves up. Sometimes there are too many broken pieces and the confusion overwhelms and the eyes cannot see for the teardrops that cloud them.

And sometimes God calls us to be a Hur or an Aaron to some precious child of His who cannot lift their arms, who cannot find the words to pray. There are Adoniram Judsons among us who are standing sentry at some lonely grave for months and months and they cannot wrench themselves from the jungle of their sorrow. They cannot lift themselves from the despair, from the dying; they have had their breath knocked out.

It is so easy, like Job’s friends, to cast a judgement on the downcast, to offer a quick-fix, to empty blame upon a bleeding heart when no immediate answer can be found for the reason behind their suffering.

Does there have to be a reason that we can fold our eager fingers around? How did Job’s friends know that there was a contest in the heavenlies raging around a small, faithful servant of God named Job? How can we fully know as finite humans what purpose is in the mind of God in our sufferings? How can we grasp Omnipotence and Divine Wisdom?

We cannot . . . but we can trust Him for His purpose in what He allows and ordains. And we can know that He will protect and preserve those who are His, those He shelters in His great Father-hand of love and truth and awesome justice.

Who knows how long Job suffered . . . Would the church today condemn him for sitting in the dust? Are we sometimes so impatient with our fellow brothers and sisters that we leave them on the frosty deck, thinking that if it is God’s will they will revive and fly? Do we leave them to the “will of the Lord,” or do we lift them up and stimulate their faith, with sensitivity, compassion and patience? Do we help the blood to flow through their numb, lifeless limbs again, or are we frustrated when it seems like they are taking too long to “snap out of it?”

Do we pick them up, as Jesus reached out His hand to Peter in the raging waves? Peter’s faith had failed . . . and yet, the hand of Jesus, and the gentle rebuke of grace offered in love. Would He allow one of His to slip through the angry waves to utter ruin?

I love the way that Isaac Newton took lonely, depressed, suicidal William Cowper under his wing. What patience, what grace this great man of faith offered through the Holy Comforter. Is God calling one of us to be that kind of support to another of His own? To offer ourselves, to pour ourselves out for another child of God? Isaac Newton did it continually, even opening his home to Cowper as a refuge and encouraging the depressed poet laureate of England to write hymns of glory to the Father of all Comfort.

And we sing them today.

My husband called.

The warbler lived . . . sat up in his hand and eventually took wing to the sky.

Through the patience of waiting . . . and the mercy of God.


You might find me on these link-ups:

Strangers and Pilgrims on EarthThe Modest MomWhat Joy is Mine, Yes They Are All Ours, Missional Call, A Mama's Story, Mom's the Word, Rich Faith Rising, Time Warp Wife, Cornerstone Confessions, Mom's Morning Coffee, So Much at Home, Raising Homemakers, Hope in Every SeasonA Wise Woman Builds Her Home, Woman to Woman Ministries, Whole-Hearted Home, A Soft Gentle Voice, My Daily Walk in His Grace, Messy Marriage, My Teacher's Name is Mama, The Charm of Home, Graced Simplicity, Children Are A Blessing, Mittenstate Sheep and Wool, Imparting Grace, Preparedness Mama, A Look at the Book, Essential Thing Devotions, Count My Blessings, Beauty Observed, Christian Mommy Blogger, Renewed Daily, Soul SurvivalGood Morning MondaysThe HomeAcre HopMommy Moments Link UpGrace and Truth LinkupFaith Filled FridaySaturday Soiree Blog PartyTell It To Me TuesdaysSHINE Blog HopMotivate and Rejuvenate Monday Link-UpA Little R&R WednesdaysTGI Saturdays Blog Hop, Totally Terrific Tuesday


Monday, September 15, 2014

Brokenness, Life, and a Tree



O Love, that wilt not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in Thee;
I give Thee back the life I owe,
That in Thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.

 --George Matheson



There are so many stones in the brook that you cannot count them. Yet in every ten you cannot find more than one or two that are useable. There was no room in David’s pouch for stones which had not been polished smooth. The process of attrition was essential. In the same way those believers who have not yet experienced trials and afflictions, and who have not yet been disciplined by God, are still not ready for his use. What I am anxious to know is whether I myself am qualified to be a ‘smooth stone’ in the hand of my God.

--Wang Ming-Dao (persecuted Chinese pastor)



God uses broken things.

Broken people, broken things.

Soil that's been tilled broken, the clods pounded hard by the hoe.

Olives broken, crushed, for the oil that flows free and nourishing.

Broken bread to feed the hungry--

He uses broken things.

And so many times He breaks a heart before He heals it.

He crushes before He restores--

"For though the Lord causes grief, yet He will show compassion . .  though His hand wounds, it will yet make whole . . . "

Don't be afraid of being broken.

And I wept today because someone I love was broken . . . shattered. Lost every earthly thing of value and every support swept away like a breath punched out of their lungs.

God reaches down to broken things. He puts tears in bottles and remembers the agony of our sorrows.



And we have to be broken before God can use us, whether through our own decisions of surrender  or through the seemingly hard strokes of the Master's rod.

We must be broken . . .

Every ounce of self-reliance stripped away, every shred of pride pressed into the dust.

We must be broken.

George Matheson, Scottish minister and author of the beautiful hymn, "O Love That Wilt Not Let Me Go," broken by blindness and the loss of his fiancé.

Corrie Ten Boom, joyful, Spirit-filled author and speaker, broken by the iron grip of the Nazi death camp.

John Bunyan, who took up his pen and wrote the great classic, Pilgrim's Progress, broken by prison and the fear of never seeing his dear, blind daughter Mary again.

Adoniram Judson, Baptist missionary and great worker for the Lord Jesus, broken by his wife's early death, broken by debilitating depression and prison.

The Apostle Paul, broken by affliction, pain, a constant thorn . . .

My Auntie, broken in years past by the cancer that drew her to Jesus . . .

Broken lives, restored; lives that reflect the glory of the Father of the broken.

Severe mercies, that cut away whatever we're leaning on--

Because when every support is taken away, we either fall utterly, or we fall on Jesus.

Walking in the woods with my sister this week along a new trail, we saw a tree.

A lovely, great tree, lying still on the quiet floor of the forest. Its leafy branches sweeping over the path.



A fallen tree, once-great -- now broken.

Quietness all-around, and the tree spread its arching branches over the expanse of the path, making a bridge over the shady pathway

And she said, "How beautiful."




Because this broken thing became a thing of grace and loveliness, a place of shade and a home for birds and animals, a silent witness to the strength and peace of brokenness.

And over the years it will nourish the ground, its wood splintering off, rotting away, giving life from its death.

There is grace through brokenness.

And the Beautiful One, the high and lofty One Whose name is Holy, Who inhabits eternity gave life on a tree fallen, a tree dead, the instrument of torture and crucifixion and suffering and death.

His death on that tree birthed life -- free and rich and new and eternal.

Life out of brokenness, grace out of suffering.



And the Love that was broken on that tree holds us in our brokenness.

Holds us to Himself--

And pours His life into our broken-dying.


O Cross, that liftest up my head,
I dare not ask to fly from Thee;
I lay in dust life’s glory dead,
And from the ground there blossoms red
Life that shall endless be.






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Monday, February 17, 2014

When You're Alone


The whole earth is at rest and quiet;

They break forth into singing.

Isaiah 14:7


The last day of duck hunting is over and 100 Acre Cove is quiet, serene. 



No gunshots, no wounds, no fear. And the Cove laughs, rejoices again. 

I rejoice. 

Tired of hearing the gunshots early every morning. Tired of wondering how many gentle, innocent ducks were slaughtered for sport, for pleasure.

In the new earth there will be no more death, and no more fear, and no more wounding of another living thing for pleasure's sake alone--not for food to feed a family, but because of blood-lust and slaughter for slaughter's sake. 

100 Acre Cove is silent. Peace and grace to my soul; creation laughs and sings.



Another day. 

My Mama stands by the side of the water and feeds her ducks, feeds them while the cold, aching wind whips her hair and her old faded coat. 

And she smiles with pleasure. 

She buys big bags of whole corn, which she says will "keep them warm." 



She feeds the sweet wild ducks and the farm ducks that some cold person "dumped" here, and she smiles and she worries over whether they have all gotten enough and how much longer the winter will be and when "they" will prohibit the feeding of ducks. 

And she throws the corn and the ducks come and they eat and are kept alive for one more day. 

Talk about the eco-system and the balance of life and death and the ducks becoming dependent. 

And we have built so many houses and crushed so much of their territory, is it really a big deal if my Mom keeps some helpless ducks alive? 

I'm not going to stop her. 

 And there is one duck who hobbles over to her, hungrier than the rest, with a broken wing that healed improperly. 

One lonely duck, making her way through life, trying to eat enough corn to survive, pitiful and helpless, totally dependent. 

Some people would say to let that duck die--would I?

Not one sparrow falls to the ground apart from My notice . . . 

And some of our brothers and sisters are like that duck and I watch my Mom feeding the friendless broken bird and think of what she said to me--

"It's different when you're alone . . . " 


And some people are like that lonely duck, all by itself, a broken wing that will never lift it up in flight again, and totally dependent upon the mercy of someone to take pity upon it. 

It's different when you're alone.  

Grace and peace be theirs in abundance . . . 

There is a woman I know who lost her husband to cancer and she stills wears her wedding ring and she smiles joy and she sings in the choir and she serves. But it is different when you're alone. 

And she is freer than others to serve the Lord and she does with a beautiful heart and a kind smile and a sensitivity born out of loss. 



It's different when you're alone. 

And they are a little nearer to Jesus because nothing comes in between. 

He is their Portion and their Keeper.





 
The sweet ducks chase the corn over the ice and the broken-winged duck struggles to keep  up. 


My Mom's corn is her mercy. 

And there are no more gunshots to fear. 

None now; none in the new earth. 

Praise Jesus. 



He prayeth well
Who loveth well
Both man and bird and beast.
He prayeth best
Who loveth best
All things both great and small;
For the dear God 
Who loveth us,
He made and loveth all.

--Samuel Taylor Coleridege
(from The Ancient Mariner)