Renewal

   "Instead, let the Spirit renew your thoughts and attitudes. Put on your new nature, created to be like God--truly righteous and holy." Ephesians 4:23-24

  Between the Prednisone and too much dessert, it was a restless, fitful, broken night of rest. I am up early again, counting down the days until I can stop with the pills. This ole gal needs her sleep. 

 

  I am nevertheless grateful. The desserts were part of a large gathering of friends around the supper table. The stories flowed, laughter rang freely, common ground was discovered. It was beautiful to be a part of such a thing...a blessing. 

  It makes me think of a symphony...the interweaving of harmonies, melodies, and instruments that come skillfully together to create something special. There is also the odd discordant note or minor chord that often is part of such a composition. Sour notes have their place. They are the counterbalance, the truth that songs, like life, are not always toe-tapping, soaring arias that touch the sky.

  It was good to be there.

  Throughout the day I found myself thinking about the conversations I'd had with my therapist the day before. I had thought that grieving the things that never were was wrong. That somehow, mourning the losses of what you never had was unforgiving and judgmental. 

  It isn't, though. 

  As we wrapped up our session in prayer, I realized this type of grief is of God. 

  My heart is but a microscopic fraction of His. I lost out on so much because of the choices of one or two people (and my own.) His unfathomably huge heart mourns for all of mankind. His heart mourns the missed gifts, the lost love, the thwarted dreams and hopes. 

  He grieves when the potential He breathed into our being fails to manifest itself because we were not given what should have been given. We were not given what we needed to enable God's design to be exactly as He planned.

  I have no intention of allowing bitterness to be part of this thinking because I have a God who redeems. Blended with these somber notes of grief is the aria that soars above it all. It is the joy, the peace, the delight, and the sheer amazement that I have a God who understands.

  

  

  

 

  

  

  

Recycling

 "Once again You (God) will have compassion on us. You will trample our sins under Your feet and throw them into the depths of the ocean! You will show us Your faithfulness and unfailing love as You promised to our ancestors Abraham and Jacob long ago." Micah 7:19-20

  It's early. The sun hasn't cleared the horizon yet. 

  I've ended up dealing with a second round of shingles. It flared up almost a month to the day after the first round. It's on the opposite side of the same arm that had it before. It's been far itchier and more painful than the last bout. That's what woke me. 

  It's unusual to say the least and a bit disconcerting. I will do some follow up with my family doctor to make sure it isn't just stress related. It might signify underlying, undiagnosed health issues. Which in and of itself is stressful.

  I tried to go back to sleep but the ole brain decided chasing squirrels was more fun. Sheesh!

  They aren't pretty or cute or cuddly squirrels. They are mangy, flea bitten, half blind and noisy; chattering away about things I'd much rather forget.

  But sometimes these ugly rodents are an opportunity because they speak to the problems I may be ignoring or wrestling with. Who better to take them to than my Lord? So this early morning becomes an opportunity instead of a frustrating time of sleep deprivation.

  Lord? I trust You can translate squirrel chatter.

  I guess the biggest struggle is knowing what to do next in regards to the recent correspondence with my mom. She responded exactly how I thought she might. Not unkindly. Not defensively but she is either unable to or incapable of admitting someone else might be right. It's rather sad. 

  Nevertheless, I will never forget how Allan held his children's hands as he lay in the bed with his eyes closed but when my mom tried to hold his hand, he pulled it away. At least in the beginning. As the life faded from his body, he stopped reacting to any outside stimuli. It's heartbreaking, really, this silent testimony of how things actually were, unbeknownst to me until then.

  

  Lord? This brief moment, those few seconds in the passage of time, has seared itself into my heart. I think I understand why.

  It changed me from being someone who justified or made excuses for how mom treated not just myself, but others. It was the moment I could no longer continuing to believe it was always my mis-understanding, mis-remembering, mis-everything. Or that I had some sort of fatal flaw that meant I had to accept such things...

  Oh...

  Now I understand why this is such a key memory. Maybe now I can finally lay it to rest and only remember the soft, warm hand of a man who loved me without words.

  It was the moment the scapegoat in me died.

  Allan, thank you for that. 

  Lord? Thank You as well, for delivering me from evil.

  It doesn't mean I am not grieving this morning. You see, the scapegoat persona is a vulnerable one. It means rejection is normalized. Abuse is normalized. Abandonment is normalized and a whole slew of other toxic behaviors are normalized. You believe it is okay for these things to be done to you because you are taught to believe you are inherently less than...flawed beyond being worthy of unconditional love or kindness or care.

  And the predators who seek out the such people keep coming to reinforce the scapegoat persona who, in the end, is really a mangy, flea bitten squirrel who won't shut up.

  But that was then. This is now.

  Praise God, it is now! 

  

  Lord? Help me forgive those who need forgiving. In Jesus' name.

  AMEN!

  

  

  

Gardening the Soul

   "The Lord will guide you always. He will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame. You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail." Jeremiah 58:11

  During a crises, I find myself able to be calm, in control...strong in the midst of other's inabilities to handle what's happening. There's a quiet stillness that enters my mind and soul enabling me to quickly assess what needs to be done. 

  Falling apart comes later.

  This happened last summer when my step Dad began his final journey to heaven. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, the Lord was with me in those chaotic, life changing days. Just as He has been with me in the aftermath of facing the dark truth about the one who raised me. 

  I just sent her a letter because she questioned why I was so angry. It took time to write. Time to perfect the words, honing them until it was only a sequence of events. No emotion. No accusatory statements. 

  Then I placed Jesus' staff beside her heart with a simple question, "Why?"

  She's in God's hands now. 

  I digress. The strength in crises is a strength carried every day. It caused a great deal of punishment over the years from those who saw it as a threat to their own power. Not that I was rebellious. I was compliant to the nth degree out of the need to survive. 

  I didn't understand why I was treated the way I was, what made me a target and scapegoat. I didn't know what I was carrying. Today, a "why" of my own has been answered.

  Strength is being reclaimed today. 

  It's not a strength that seeks power or control. It's not a strength used to inflict vengeance or suffering on others. It's not the kind of strength that needs propping up to sustain it, at least, not in the ways of the world.

  It will need protecting and nurturing like anything newly born. It will take time and practice to step away from the survival strategy of compliancy. In You, dear Lord, this is not only possible, it is inevitable.

  Lord, thank You for answering a, "Why?" that has been cried out in the dark nights of despair for as long as I can remember. A few tears are rolling down my cheeks as I type blurry letters. They are complicated tears of both joy and sadness. That's okay. They are healing tears, too.

  

  

Tending the Vine

   "Remain in Me, as I remain in you. Just as a branch cannot bear fruit on its own unless it remains on the vine, so neither can you unless you remain in Me." John15:4

  It's gardening season. We've had a run of perfect, working outside weather. The veggies have come up, I've removed some of the shade garden to lessen the amount of work and revamped another. I am of an age where it is becoming necessary to start paring back. 

  Part of the cleanup involved tearing out a huge patch of Lily-of-the-Valley. 

  This ground cover has a beautiful flower and a sweet fragrance but the root system is unbelievable! It has a compacted, dense mat of roots several inches thick at the surface. It has deep runner roots underneath the mat that invade everywhere. It has been classified as an invasive plant because it chokes out everything in its path. That's why I planted it in the first place, to help with controlling weeds.

  Who knew it was a weed in and of itself?

  I kept a bit in pots because because it is lovely in the spring. It will probably take a couple of years to eradicate it in the garden. Even the smallest root fragment can grow a plant.

  Tearing it out made me realize how little water was actually getting to the shrubs and other plants. They will probably fare much better now it's gone.

  Sunday's sermon touched on growing vines. Before it even reaches the pruning stage, a vine needs something to grow on. Otherwise, it will spread over the ground, seeking something to climb unless it's provided a structure or stake. 

  I've been thinking about it ever since.

  One of my structures for vine growing is permanent. It's an old, metal bedspring that lives at the north end of one of my raised garden boxes. Traditionally, pole beans cover it but this year I planted cucumbers there. A few pole beans are planted using another part of the bed frame that turns into a ladder when put on its side. 

  The structures are in place before the seeds are planted. That way there is less risk of damaging or destroying the tender seedlings.

  If Jesus is the vinedresser, then the stake that holds the vine is everything else: community, church, family, relationships...But sometimes, a gardening practice puts the stake right on top of the tender plant, either killing it or damaging it. At the very least, it stunts its growth.

  I think this will help me be more mindful of how I interact with other people, believers or non-believers. Do I want to be the gardener that provides a helpful structure that enables them to flourish or do I want to be a ham-handed, careless caretaker of someone else's growth?

  Is the stake I plant beside them Jesus' staff? I like that idea!

  Is it planted in hope? 

  Or out of the need to control? Has Jesus' staff been used as weapon?

  Sadly, yes.

  I am being called to do two things this morning. 

  First of all, Lord, forgive me. In my brokenness, self-righteousness, judgements and ignorance I have used Your staff in a way that was not mindful of the tender souls I was interacting with. 

  Secondly, help me hold an image of Your staff, the structure of love and discipline, at the forefront of my mind so I can do better. Let me place it so others have the freedom to grow according to the season of their own lives and faith.

  I want the care and hope that fills my heart each spring planting to bear fruit throughout the year. 

  I will leave the pruning up to You, dear Lord. You are the master gardener after all.

  Glory be to God!

  AMEN!

  

  

Sunday

   "Follow Me and be My disciple." Jesus said to him. So Levi got up and followed Him. Mark 2:14

  I am unable to attend church today because the ole body decided to come down with Shingles. My quarantine period isn't up yet.

  It showed up last Tuesday on my lower, left arm of all places, as a pale red rash. I'd spent the morning in the garden revamping one of the flower beds. I thought I'd gotten into something that caused an allergic reaction. It was strange that it was only on one arm and it wasn't itchy. 

  Shortly after noticing the rash, the sun came around the side of the house. The heat was unbearable. It was the first really hot day of the season. What I thought was heatstroke left me feeling feverish and weak as a kitten. I basically dropped my tools and headed inside. 

  Wednesday was a work day. The continuing fatigue made it a struggle to get through the day. It was simply a case of overdoing it in the heat. Or so I thought.

  Thursday, the red rash had started darkening and blistering. It was also becoming painful. I've never seen Shingles. I've never had it before but, and this is a God moment, it struck me that this is what it might be! 

  Doctor Google provided symptoms and images as confirmation. Just in case, I called my friend who knows about Shingles. She also happens to be away visiting a nurse friend. Both of them advised a trip to the doctor as soon as possible.

  Thankfully, I was able to get an appointment to see my family doctor early that afternoon. She confirmed Doctor Google's diagnosis and prescribed the appropriate treatment. It's crucial to start it within 72 hours of the first appearance of the rash. I was well within that window.

  I am feeling much better and smiling at my own foolish assumptions about heat stroke and allergic reactions. It was all because my body was fighting an illness and had nothing to do with what I'd been doing.

  There's a lesson here. About assumptions and perceptions. What I see and what I know can hide the truth. It can misread reality. It makes me all the more grateful to have an Advisor and Counsellor via the Holy Spirit. 

  It's important, though, to admit those perceptions might be wrong. 

  I've been wrong before. Frequently.

  It's just as important to make room for truth and the advice of wise counsel. 

  Jesus said, "Follow Me," time and time again. It's an act of surrender, not servitude. In Jesus, my wrongs will be redeemed, my perceptions sharpened, and He will guide me in all ways. 

  Besides, I loved it when He whispered in my ear, "It might be Shingles."

  

  

Conclave

   "And so, brothers, select seven men who are well respected and are full of the Spirit and wisdom. We will give them this responsibility. (To deal with conflict and discord.) Then we apostles can spend our time in prayer and teaching the word." Acts 6:3-6

  Every so often a movie comes across your path that challenges the way you think.  Conclave was such a movie. It's about the Roman Catholic event where Cardinals are sequestered in the Vatican to vote for a new Pope. It's a movie full of intrigue, of politics, of prejudices, of deceptions. Basically, it's a movie about people, albeit those who have chosen to give their lives to God. Even so, they are still very, very human. 

  There is an unexpected twist at the end which I won't get into because I don't want to spoil it for anyone who hasn't seen it. The twist was not only eye opening, but heart opening. It's left me examining my own prejudices, politics, and plain old ignorance. This is a good thing. A God thing.

  There was something else, too, that spoke directly into my heart. "The church isn't about the past, it isn't about the present, it's about what we do next." Food for thought for all of us, regardless of our denomination.

  But thoughts without actions bear no fruit.

  And at the same time, our thoughts can cause our actions to be unfruitful or even outright damaging.       Actions that rise up from a place of brokenness and the fears such brokenness creates can colour the way we interact with each other. 

  I had a conversation with my therapist about revisiting traumatic events. We talked about getting stuck in an endless loop, about being stuck in that place, that time, that event by replaying it over and over in our minds. It can happened, the being stuck part. 

  Thoughts without actions bear no fruit...it would appear this is an important thought for today.

  I shared with her that rather than being stuck in a loop, when I revisit the hard stuff, it was more like a Slinky. That's a childhood toy, a metal spring made of many spirals that would move freely, slinkily. It can even walk down stairs under its own momentum! A fun thing.

  So I have the thoughts, the memories of dark days. Things that created core beliefs that poisoned my soul. My action against the loop is to ride the Slinky...to share them with God and hear what He has to say about it all. In doing so, He heals. He brings irrefutable truth and speaks life into the shadows.

  

  So today, I take these seemingly random thoughts and invest in the action of writing. I'd love to have some sort of deeply profound wrap up but instead, there is an upwelling of gratitude for the One who guides the actions of my thoughts. 

  Gratitude for the One who tempers unkindness with gentleness, who fills the pit of ignorance with knowledge and the understanding of such knowledge. Gratitude in knowing I have a long way to go yet knowing nonetheless my God is a God of grace. 

  Because, after all, the church isn't about the past or the present, it's about what happenes next.

  To God be the Glory. AMEN!

Choices

   Thousands upon thousands are waiting in the valley of decision. There the day of the Lord will soon arrive." Joel 3:14

  So here I sit, with thousands of others, in the valley of decision. 

  I believe this is a prophecy relating to the arrival of Christ. It is referring to all the people who are deciding to believe or not believe He is the Son of God, the Messiah.

  But there's something about the idea of waiting before making any decisions that is reassuring.

  There's something about the idea of waiting.

  Right now, my wait is a time of reflection, of tempering my words, of allowing the Lord into the brokenness. Decisions made from brokenness aren't necessarily the best especially if it involves others. 

  Oh. 

  And in those words, the seeds of grace are planted. 

  But what does grace look like? Specifically in regards to the situation with my mom? How is grace to manifest or shape my part in all of it?

  I honestly have no idea.

  In my brokenness, my heart wants vengeance. It wants revenge. It wants to see her suffer with the same suffering she caused others.

  Yet, I know this is not the way of love.

  I need to stay in the valley a little longer, to allow the Lord to temper the anger, to refine it and purify it.

  Right now, grace looks like silence and not saying the hurtful things I want to say. 

  Grace is leaving her to the tender mercies of God.

  Grace is acknowledging that in her brokenness, she is not a safe person to confide in or share my feelings with. Grace is understanding she will never admit wrongdoing no matter what I say. Grace is realizing I cannot change a thing.

  Here's the thing about choices and decisions, there are always consequences. 

  If I choose to continue a relationship that was unhealthy without changing the infrastructure of that relationship, it undermines and destroys all the work God has done in my life. If I ignore His work and His truth under the label of duty and familial ties and return to the old ways, I turn away from Him. 

  It is a sacrifice I am not prepared to make. 

  Decisions made from a place of wholeness are decisions made from a foundation of love.

  This means loving myself, too.

  "Yeah, though I walk through the valley..." Psalm 23:1