As kids the games of peek-a-boo and hide-and-go-seek were fun. It was the anticipation of the unknown. When would the “boo” come? When would we be found?
Tomorrow is the big day for tricks and mostly treats that every kid anticipates for months on end. It’s mostly about the dressing up and the treats.
Somehow when we dress up and hit the adulting stage, the treats become our comfort as we’re wondering when the “boo” will come.
Though chocolate is nice and there’s plenty of research touting its benefits, it doesn’t really bring true comfort and hope.
Comfort is found in knowing that we don’t have to fear the “boo” when it does come. And come it will, at one time or another.
And when it does?
There’s no need to fear. He is with me.
There’s no need to be dismayed. He is my God.
There’s no need to be strong. He will be my strength.
He will hold me up with His righteous right hand.
Yes, chocolate is great, but Jesus is so very much better!
We were chatting and lingering a bit at our favorite local bakery. She had just passed her driver’s license test. First time. Last child. Big rite of passage in the life of a teen. And a Mama.
They strolled in on what appeared to be a date. To be fair, she did more bouncing than strolling. Her little flaxen curls bobbing up and down with each step.
She had chosen a donut. Good choice. Covered in sprinkles. More like smothered in sprinkles. She plopped down in a chair looking up at her daddy like he was the greatest of all the great Superheros. He had after all just bought her the most regal of breakfast fare.
He slid her new sprinkled treasure right in front of her. All else disappeared.
This scene caught my eye the other night as I was driving home.
A busted up fence in the middle of a field of green.
Rain had poured down much of the afternoon leaving the horse farms bathed in the glow of the setting sun.
Just past this was a section of busted up fence and the once-green tree that had crushed it in a previous squall.
Brokenness in the wake of a storm.
And then there was this scene …
The sunbathed beauty that came in the wake of the storm had left the countryside glowing a bright green and the flowers bursting with blooms and life.
Isaiah 43:18-19 immediately came to mind.
Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old. Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? Isaiah 43:18-19
It felt a bit like a rainbow moment. A sort of promise that even in the wake of a terribly strong storm, God can bring tremendous beauty. He can bring such healing and light that it’s almost brilliantly blinding.
I don’t know about you, but there are moments and seasons in the past few years that have felt like the worst of storms in my world.
You may be counted among those facing rising waters in the south or raging fires in the west or your own more private storms and battles.
May you find encouragement in knowing that God’s desire is for redemption. May you find Him doing a new thing right smack in the middle of where a mere moment before you only saw destruction and devastation.
May you see this new thing even today and see His healing more clearly in the light of a new day.
Last month we celebrated Mother’s Day. This Sunday is set aside to honor and celebrate Dads. These are special and good days to pause in our routine and express our gratitude and that’s always a good thing.
They’re also hard days for so many whose stories are not written the way they would have preferred.
Just as with Mother’s Day last month, I’m praying for you. The daughter whose Daddy is off serving our country in a land that is not his own. The Mama whose been doing this parenting thing alone for too many years to count. The son whose missing Dad because he left this world much too young. Know that you are being prayed for this weekend …
Surviving Father’s Day when a piece of your puzzle is missing
The past weeks here have included a few Father’s Day projects. That has been fun.
But in the back of my mind, I’ve been pondering and praying for those who have been dreading Father’s Day. Those who really are not up for brunch, or church or a gathering of any sort. And those who have no idea how to even muster the strength or courage to get out of the house at all. Or the bed, for that matter.
These holidays can be special and it’s always good to recognize the impact of others on our lives. And yet, there’s so much anticipation and even hype it becomes even harder for those of us who feel like a piece of our puzzle is missing.
For me, it’s my Mama. Last month was our sixth Mother’s Day without her. We have always recognized the day in some way, though often not with extravagant gifts, that’s just not who we are. Some years were given more attention than others. But, not being able to see her or send a card on that one day with so much focus on Moms has been tough. The grief has eased in unexpected ways and yet there are still those raw moments that hit out of nowhere.
I don’t know your story, but I’ve brushed shoulders with enough people to know that those of us who feel like pieces of our puzzle are missing tend to outnumber those who don’t. Perhaps, you’ve lost your Dad physically.
Perhaps it’s the first year that you won’t be gathering at the same table for a special dinner because of a big move. Or maybe your relationship with your Dad has never been what you had hoped or needed.
Perhaps it’s a brother you are grieving. One who was taken too early, or is somehow unreachable.
Perhaps it’s a child. One who was gone long before their time. Or one whom for one reason or another, you’ve never even met. Or one that you have not seen or spoken to for years.
Perhaps it’s the yet to be realized hope of marriage and children. And the waiting just feels unbearable.
Deuteronomy 33:27
The eternal God is your dwelling place, and underneath are the everlasting arms.
I do know that grieving is tough.
I do know that the years can somehow soften grief a bit .
I do know that the deepest of friendships can come from walking through loss with kindred souls.
I do know that somehow intentional gratitude can help lighten the weight.
I do know that I have been and will continue praying for those who are feeling a bit lost as Father’s Day approaches.
I do know that God is my dwelling place. That His arms hold me. And that beyond the shadow of a doubt, He will never leave.
I pray that you may find peace and comfort even in the very midst of your missing puzzle pieces.
Brokenness is no respecter of gender or race or sexuality or religion.
It’s that uninvited guest overstaying it’s welcome in every one of our lives.
Some weeks it seems we can’t get away from it. Even when the tragedy strikes complete strangers. We’re all created in the same image, and somehow that truth brings us to grieve as one community.
Brokenness is inevitable.
But healing from our brokenness is not.
This has been my prayer this week …
Psalm 34:18
We’re all a little bit broken.
With so many broken this week by tragic accidents, acts of violence, acts of terror how can we possibly mend?
He’s the only place I know where I can leave my own brokenness. And I know it’s true. He is close to the brokenhearted. He can and does save those who are crushed in spirit.
The past two weeks here have focused on Mother’s Day projects. That has been fun.
But in the back of my mind, I’ve been pondering and praying for those who have been dreading Mother’s Day. Those who really are not up for brunch, or church or a gathering of any sort. And those who have no idea how to even muster the strength or courage to get out of the house at all. Or the bed, for that matter.
These holidays can be special and it’s always good to recognize the impact of others on our lives. And yet, there’s so much anticipation and even hype it becomes even harder for those of us who feel like a piece of our puzzle is missing.
For me, it’s my Mama. It’s our sixth Mother’s Day without her. We have always recognized the day in some way, though often not with extravagant gifts, that’s just not who we are. Some years were given more attention than others. But, not being able to see her or send a card on this one day with so much focus on Moms has been tough. The grief has eased in unexpected ways and yet there are still those raw moments that hit out of nowhere.
I don’t know your story, but I’ve brushed shoulders with enough people to know that those of us who feel like pieces of our puzzle are missing tend to outnumber those who don’t. Perhaps, like me, you’ve lost your Mama physically.
Perhaps it’s the first year that you won’t be gathering at the same table for a special dinner because of a big move. Or maybe your relationship with your Mom has never been what you had hoped or needed.
Perhaps it’s a sister that you are grieving. One who was taken too early, or is somehow unreachable.
Perhaps it’s a child. One who was gone long before their time. Or one whom for one reason or another, you’ve never even met. Or one that you have not seen or spoken to for years.
Perhaps it’s the yet to be realized hope of marriage and children. And the waiting just feels unbearable.
The eternal God is your dwelling place, and underneath are the everlasting arms.
I don’t know your story, but I do know that for many of us this day is far from perfect.
I do know that grieving is tough.
I do know that the years can somehow soften grief a bit .
I do know that the deepest of friendships can come from walking through loss with kindred souls.
I do know that somehow intentional gratitude can help lighten the weight.
I do know that I have been and will continue praying for those who are feeling a bit lost as Mother’s Day approaches.
I do know that God is my dwelling place. That His arms hold me. And that beyond the shadow of a doubt, He will never leave.
I pray that you may find peace and comfort even in the very midst of your missing puzzle pieces.
That dark day when Christ chose to go to the cross. Out of obedience to the Father. Out of love for us. Out of God’s plan for relationship.
With us. Us whose live’s have been marred by sin. Us who too frequently still choose a sin path in the day to day. Us who are so very unworthy of rescuing, much less redeeming.
The tools of His scourging
It’s the day of Christ’s crucifixion. A day of excruciating physical, emotional and spiritual pain for Him.
I read recently that our word excruciating is based in the Latin root for cross. Crucifixion and excruciating come from the same root word. They would simply have to.
I’ve read the accounts. You know the ones, written by a doctor detailing all that Christ physically endured that day. It brings me to tears just trying to comprehend it, just for me.
I find myself wanting to soak in the gravity of this day, this act that He endured. Somehow, it’s only in beginning to grasp it’s weight that I can even begin to fully understand the impact it has on the purpose of my own days.
But instead this past week has included several moments of cutting words and actions by others. Words that have sought to correct or inform by way of humiliation and shame. I’ve been seeking to process these words and moments as Christ would have me. And I’m realizing that as much as I want to understand and even identify with what Christ went through on my behalf, truth is … I really don’t.
I really don’t want to experience the shame that others tried to heap upon Him throughout His earthly ministry.
When I’m brutally honest with myself, I’m really not all that interested in humility, when it’s on someone else’s terms. I’m more up for choosing to be humble … but only in my own ways, and my time and my controlled situations. Having humiliation throw at me, well that’s another story. And somehow I can walk away from those situations thinking I just may need to set someone straight, in the nicest way of course, because everyone knows the way they just behaved was wrong.
And then I realize, I’ve missed the whole point. I’m not sure humility really is all that humble when it’s displayed in my chosen and tightly controlled setting. Somehow it can only be truly seen in those surprising moments, the ones when we feel attacked.
An act of humility.
As Christ shared His final Passover meal with His disciples, He got up and proceeded to wash their feet. Him, their Master, their Savior, their Lord. He stooped to wash their feet. Their filthy dirty feet covered with layers of Jerusalem dirt. Him, in the place of the servant – seeing, loving and honoring those who followed Him.
Suddenly everything is crystal clear. This humbling, this loving others, this honoring others … it’s not about me. It never has been. Just like Christ going to the cross is about others – those he came to redeem.
Our humbling, loving and honoring others is about them, not about us. It’s not about what we may or may not deserve, or what should or shouldn’t happen in a certain situation. It’s about others.
And the only way that can happen is because of Christ and His work on the cross and in our hearts. I’m fully aware that I don’t have it in me, not in my own flesh and blood to be humble, loving or honoring.
But Christ in me, because of His death and resurrection, that is what this life is all about. There are so many opportunities ahead for me to identify with Christ and His sacrifice.
Oh Lord, open my eyes to see them for what they are. And by Your grace, live through me so that others can experience Your love, Your forgiveness and Your honor.
And this? This is how a Friday, so riddled with humiliation and excruciating pain and sacrifice can be a Good Friday after all.
