Sing a Song to the Darkness

I was awakened in the early morning gray by the sound of one little bird singing. His sweet trilling call rang out strong and silver. I had to smile at his bold declaration, his confidence, that the morning was coming.

As the gray softened and gave way to the morning his lone voice was joined by many friends. After making a cup of tea I stepped out on the back patio. The luminous moon hung low and full behind the pines. By now the yard was alive with the morning song of dozens of birds, almost raucous.

Is your life wrapped in gray? Turn your ear and listen for hope singing in the darkness, and join it. (Tweet This)

"But as for me, I will sing about your power. Each morning I will sing with joy about your unfailing love. For you have been my refuge, a place of safety when I am in distress." Psalm 95:15

Other people are in the darkness listening. When your song of hope, of joy in your salvation, breaks out in the lean space between night and morning it touches another heart and invites your friends to join in the song.

When the job is over sing, when the illness drags long sing, when the news is bad sing, after a night of grieving sing. 

I believe in the spiritual discipline of mourning. Stuffing or denying our sorrow isn't healthy or wise. God is looking for followers who will join him in sorrow. Grieving their own sin and the effects of sin in this world. But after a night of grief joy comes. 

The darkness is all around you. Sing a song to it. A song of hopeful confidence that morning will come, a bold declaration of faith in Jesus unfailing love.

When do you find it most difficult to sing about God's love? Have you had a friend ignite hope in your own heart before? Tell us about it!

Holding My Child For The First Time

Newborn Maggie

I'm linking up with Ellen for her writing prompt; Holding My Child For The First Time. How many of you parents remember holding your child for the first time? I have no doubt most of you moms have a flood of memories, emotions, and images immediately. That first moment, when a child and motherhood are birthed entwined, is a pivotal one. I remember details of that moment from eight and then four years ago that defy explanation; sounds, smells, colors, sensations, numbers, emotions, conversations. Some of you remember those details from decades ago, it's amazing.

I remember the pouring out being more like falling in love than giving up. Relief and wonder flooded my heart as I held my son for the first time, rising as if from the depths of my soul. I remember thinking in amazement, "is this really how God feels about me?" There was humor as we noticed that he looked like a miniature version of his father! And so much thankfulness. The birth of our little pink girl was different. The labor was different, the hospital was different, adding a girl to our family brought a new dimension of delight. Yet so many of the emotions were the same; wonder, joy, gratitude.

As I prepare to travel to Serbia I wonder what it will feel like to hold someone else's child in my arms for the first time. A child that isn't used to being held by a mommy. What did their mommies feel when they held their child for the first time? Were they afraid? Where they sad and filled with longing? Did they feel love? I wonder if some of the children's mommies got to hold their babies at all before they went to live in a long row of cribs with other broken babies.

I think often of the children I will see in Dom Veternik's rooms. But I also wonder about the parents who said goodbye, parents whose hearts still bear the scars. Many of the mother's must have been surprised by their child's disability or illness. The moments leading up to that revelation surely were similar to my own. Picking out baby clothes and a name, the pain of labor and relief of delivery, the joy of becoming a mother. Do they still remember each smell and sound, each sensation and emotion, strange details and every conversation?

I doubt they have forgotten the nightmare of learning that their child was not perfect, the pain of being told it would be better with other's of it's kind and not at home with her. I imagine each will remember that moment until the end of her life, but I pray it won't haunt her. As much as I pray that their disabled children are set free from their captivity of pain and healed by love, I pray that each mother's heart is set free from it's own captivity of remorse and healed by forgiveness.

Won't you pray with me for the healing of the disabled children of Dom Veternik as well as for the healing of their parents hearts?

Grief Revisited

I'm revisiting this post from February. Today I hugged my dear neighbor goodbye as she crammed a few trash bags of belongings into a car and headed to a new place a couple of hours away. I'm grieving. No more amazing conversations in the backyard as our children play, introducing her to my friend Jesus. No more Mikey spending hours in my home being loved and hugged, memorizing scripture and playing guys. No more best friend for Maggie. Sin stinks. I'm glad she has walked away from abuse, but I'm sad it's so far from my front door.

"Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted." Matthew 5:4

  
Sometimes black clouds roll in and the sky opens up in a nasty gash and pours out grief. That's where I find myself today. After weeks of witnessing the worst of humanity's suffering, even if through blurry images, my heart has no where else to go but grief. Prayers have turned to tears.

Sin is a big deal and it's effect stretches through all of creation and life. If it wasn't a big deal, the payment for sin wouldn't be death.

Grief can be personal, the private wrestle with failed health, the daily longing for a lost loved one, the ache for a rebellious teenager, grief touches our hearts in a thousand ways though out a life time.  

It's also appropriate to grieve the scar of sin across creation, the suffering of a people group, the sin of a respected leader. Mourning is an invitation to join in an expression of our Father's heart. Aware that we will grieve, inviting us to mourn; he has provided.

Psalm 84:6 "When they walk through the Valley of Weeping, it will become a place of refreshing springs." How? "A single day in your courts is better than a thousand anywhere else!" (vs. 10) Our comfort and refreshing is his presence.

Just like anything, mourning can become worship, it's a holy work, not to be despised or shunned. Grief isn't a land that should be lived in, but rather a season, important to the rhythm of life.

If you find yourself in a season of mourning, invite God to be present, he has promised comfort. If you are walking in a season of joy, celebrate God's good gift, every season comes from him. 

Seeing Costs

How much can a heart endure? After a front row seat to suffering I wonder. I'm listening to Brandon Heath's Give Me Your Eyes as I write this. Months ago, as I prayed for the eyes of Jesus to be transplanted into my heart, this song shaped me. Blurry stains began to stand out in sharp contrast; evil and blood transposed over blue skies and carelessness.

If I'd known then what I know now, that seeing costs, would I have asked for heavenly vision? Like a fever I caught, that got under my skin, God vision was more than I bargained for. My Mikey-boy and his Mama and sister, calling for grace. Could I let them in my life? Can I let them out?

Today, at my table, Mikey, an impish grin and jelly stains, worked so hard on his letters. What was a commitment for the year, to invite him in and teach him every week, is over. Finished. The serrated blade of loss cuts at my heart and I feel the love spill.

Tonight his Mama ran to my house afraid and hurting, a wild fury of tears and pain, a burst of terror through the front door. And it was done. Crying, praying, trembling, laughing, and crying again, we sat together. A promise, I won't loose you, and then she was gone.

I hope she's gone forever, a new life, a new chance, and still I'm sorry. No more standing in the in-between of our yards and faith, discovering Jesus. No more Mikey standing at the front door grinning, "Hey Mi(ss) Be(ck)!" No more Hello Kitty tattooed girls giggling and getting into trouble. And I wish I hadn't been too busy earlier this week, when I was cooking dinner, to draw with chalk in the driveway. I wish I'd said I love you one more time.

I trust I will see her again but it won't be the same and I'm sad, so very sad. Yet I'm hopeful. For months I've been watching a baby struggle to be born. Tonight she called out to Jesus for help. I believe he's faithful and will give her new life, spiritually and physically. I know the Father doesn't start good works merely to abandon them.

Now comes the pain of sorting through the future, of starting over. The pain of upheaval and uprooting. The pain of wounds healing, of letting go. Fresh tears come as I remember something Max told me tonight.
"Mikey asked me today if I was his brother."
"What did you say?
"I said no. But I think of you as a brother. That's why I call you bud."

I think of you as a brother. Eyes that see with a new vision. Dare I pray that my children see with the Father's heart? It will cost them. It cost him.

Seeing costs when we engage. I don't know what her boyfriend will do. He's scary. As I lift my eyes from typing this post the Names of God emblazoned over my door frames call out the reminder of our Great God. And I pray Jehovah Sabaoth fight for us, Jehovah Nissi spread your banner of victory over my dear friend, Jehovah Mekoddishkem clothe her in your righteousness, Jehovah Shammah be present with the brokenhearted, Jehovah Jireh provide all she needs, Jehovah Shalom rule over these dear ones in peace, Jehovah Rohi seek out your lambs and shepherd, El Shaddai won't you satisfy.

Use Your Pain

What do you do with pain in your life? Once the wound has stopped throbbing and a thin layer of pink skin has formed are you ready to use your experiences in another persons life? Whether we're writers, teachers, parents, or a whole host of professions or roles, I believe our painful experiences have power when used generously in another persons life.

Today I'm sharing about making our painful moments meaningful over at The Write Practice. Stop over and learn about using your painful moments for good!

Goodbye

I hear the whisper of eternity. A gentle whoosh between rooms, like a breeze of life, fluttering the gauzy curtain of matter between worlds. My grandma has put down her worn out tent and moved. I marvel that a woman I've known my whole existence, small and accented, has stepped into her true life. She is seeing with her own eyes the sweet Saving Face I long to see most of all. And while Heaven isn't her permanent home, anymore than a hotel is mine, she's one step closer. Resting in the dwelling place of God that will one day be joined with a perfectly restored, curse free world; it's more than I can imagine. (Revelation 21)

Heaven is dear to me because the One I love best is there, but the longer I live the more precious it becomes for it's containing others I love. One of my best friends lost her father-in-law this week as well. A dear man and good. Sorrow stalks us like a predator in this life. The only comfort I find for times like this is in a verse I've always felt a little odd. The shortest in the bible, so they say, but maybe one of the most tender. "Jesus wept," John 11:35. Why did he? There may be a number of reason but I think certainly one has to do with why he came to earth. He entered in to our experience. He became one of us. He has taken away the judgement associated with the curse of death but not the sorrow, the consequence, the daily struggle, or it's burden. Instead of removing death and grief and pain, he enters in.

Maria Eugenia Reyes Morton, a Latin beauty.

Grandma and my Dad.

I wish. Sad words aren't they. I wish I had known my Grandma better; all of my family for that matter. I wish she had known me better. I wish I had told her I loved her one more time. I wish I could have asked her more about her childhood. I wish she was a part of more of my memories.

I look forward to knowing my Grandma better in eternity. I want to be known and know. It's something the pull of this world left undone. Distance and difference. Relationships take work. In the New World I think relationships will be our primary work, relationship with God and each other, and the curse of this fallen world won't get in the way.

Me and Grandma, October 2010, the last time I saw her.

Grandma with Max and Maggie.

I think that's what I love most about the hope of eternity with Jesus. Everything is redeemed. The earth becomes what it was intended to be, our perfect home. God dwells with man once more, Heaven and a New Earth joining. My past is redeemed and I become who I was meant to be all along. And relationships are what we've always longed they could be; satisfying, deep, selfless. I want to know my Grandmother under those circumstances. In this life I was fighting the rip tide of distance, often living states apart. And sometimes in a big family it's hard to find your place, often we come of age and find our confidence too late.

Even so Grandma marked me. I think she opened my eyes to the beauty and accessibility of the world. Originally from Puerto Rico, she was a world traveler, her stories of distant places opened up a desire to see the treasures of this world with my own eyes. My personality is shaped by inherited genes, I got the chatty ones! As well as by choices, I'm thankful for my grandparent's faith in Jesus. And she gave me one of my greatest gifts in life, my Dad. Death is a humbling and sobering reminder that we are all linked, influencing and shaping generations. Even though her reality and mine have changed, I'm here and she's there, in some ways it remains the same. She and I are unified through the Holy Spirit. Alive in Christ, our inheritance is in him, love isn't really ever broken it's just transferred to a different location.


"He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” Then he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.” He said to me: “It is done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. To the thirsty I will give water without cost from the spring of the water of life. Those who are victorious will inherit all this, and I will be their God and they will be my children." Revelation 21:5-7 


Thankful for what's been and hopeful for what's to come!