One Step.

Have you seen the Skywalk? No? Oh. Well, have a look:

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The mind boggles. The stomach implodes. ...And since my name is neither Luke nor Leia, I don't even have the siren call of The Pun to coax me out on that there glass plank.

Look at those people hanging out, shooting the breeze, chatting like there's not a giant chasm of nothingness below them.

No big deal.

Surely they don't see what's down there. Surely if they did-- and I paraphrase--

running amok and screaming, not conversation, would be the order of the day.

Yesterday, I had a fleeting moment of giant-chasm-of-nothingness-ness in my life.

Do you ever have those? You're walking along, you pause to take stock of your life, and suddenly you're paralyzed.

"What?!" you cry.

{and by "you," I mean... me.}

"How am I here?

What's going to happen?

Why didn't I panic before this?

What was I thinking, not panicking until now?

How am I going to--

How am I--

How?!"

The simple answer? You're not.

He is.

The one who is mightier than the thunder of great waters...

The one who does exceedingly abundantly more than all we could ask or imagine...

He is.

He knows what He is about.

Settle ye down, thou winged fluttering stomach creatures.

Be still.

Like Peter, walking on the water and sinking when he lost sight of the One who called him...

redirect. Re-focus. Let Him catch you.

"Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, 'Lord, save me!' Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him."  Matthew 14:29-31

Keep your eyes on Him, not on the giant chasm of famished what-if's yawning beneath you.

Keep your eyes on Him, and take the next step.

One step.


What's that step look like for you today?

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Woven Treasures

     Fingers plucked and eyes pricked as I held a scrap of hemming lace and worked to loosen decades-old knots.

     Who knew that my self-of-yesteryear would toil to secure those knots, once-upon-a-time in that treasure-scrap, tying off a chunky braid in Samantha doll’s hair in a clumsy web of clumped lace… only to pack it up for storage some years later (College? Marriage? Moving? Who knows...), only to pull it out tonight to introduce Samantha to my real, live treasure girl.

     Who knew, when younger-version-of-me did that, all along God knew the little hands that would brush that doll hair with me in a future I could not foresee?

     I know it’s silly when detangling a scrap of lace makes me teary-eyed—and granted, I’m a bit over-emotional of late—but humor a hair-brained gal for a bit?

     I pulled and loosened and straightened those knots tonight  and thought, “this is weird.”

     A little Twilight-Zoney, you know? Not in the Talking Tina doll sense, but… I don’t know.  Something about this: the last person to touch this lace was me. Kid me. Me in my youth.  

     I had thought it was a treasure done-with, but the odd time capsule of threads in my fingers tonight said otherwise.  

     This may be a bit of a leap, analogy-wise, but…

     How often does God weave threads into our stories, spinning them around and about facets in our lives as we skip, march, dance, trudge, or otherwise move through our days? …threads that, with Expert hand and Knowing heart, He picks up and brings to the surface when we’d forgotten them. When time has passed and we thought something was done with, and then we see—no. He has a purpose for it still. When we need to see the beautiful truth that Yes, After All, He is…always has been… At Work.

Even when the threads of evidence disappeared for a bit, He’s been at work.

...And since it's a post about a doll, I'm going to stick a clip from a kids' movie in too. Why not go all out since I'm exploring the deeper meaning of kid stuff?

Really, though, have a listen to the song (above)-- it's worth it.

     How have you seen Him take a circumstance in your life—from years ago, even—and finally reveal His purpose for it?

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Reflections on Rain

Or,

Rain
(Reprise)
...since I already posted about that favored form of condensation here.

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Last night, the air was laced with it, saturating the evening with peace long before a single drop fell.

And then the sky let loose.

The beat on the roof drew my gaze out a window, where no spectacular views awaited: just a parking lot, a nearby road, and cars whizzing by with headlights piloting through the dusk.

But then the asphault began to dance with the splashing, joy in the cadence of something simple, solitary, ordinary... brought to life by something Heavenly.

Suddenly it was spectacular.

The heat cooled, the cloistering air of asphault-warmed-too-long quieted, and the once-mute asphault reflected prancing headlights from the road.

Full of foolish notions I may be, but it was lovely.

...and, as you may expect, there was an analogy: Hey! This is what God's word does in our hearts! We dive in, and His word, like the rain, provides a reflection where there once was none. A standard by which we can look and see the state of our hearts.

And the best part? Hope. Hope of the promise that He fills, He heals, He enlivens the muted parts of our lives, quiets the chaotic, and washes away the things that don't belong.

New life. That's what He does. Isn't it grand?

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Night Seasons

Sometimes, it's dark.

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Sometimes,
light eludes us,
understanding eludes us,
even hope eludes us.

Deep inside, we know God is there, we know He's promised not to leave or forsake us, we know He is the light of the world.

...and yet the question sneaks in: even here, Lord?

The answer, I think, is especially here.

Last night as I read Psalm 55, verses 16 and 17 wound their way around my curiosity. They were words I'd read who-knows-how-many times, but there was something strange about them... what was it?

"But I call to God,
and the Lord saves me.
Evening, morning and noon
I cry in distress,
and he hears my voice."

 Evening, morning and noon. That was it. Not the familiar morning-noon-and-night sequence.

The Psalmist's distress came at night. His entreaties to the Lord began in the night.

When
light eluded him,
understanding eluded him...
but hope did not elude him.

He knew that even there-- especially there-- it was the Lord who kept him from being swept away by despair. Instead, the despair drove him into the arms of his Lord.

...and then? After God had sustained him through the night? His prayers continued into the morning and even into the bright and shining noon.

Too often, I forget to lean on my Savior just as much in the morning and noon seasons as I did in the night seasons.

Today, whichever season you may be in, remember: He hears your voice.

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Magnify

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The Greatest Strength in all the world, stooping to whisper, to embrace. The Greatest Strength. The Creator of the universe, the Author our faith, the God who is mightier.

"Magnify Him!" is the call, the beckoning that resounds in Psalm 34:3.

I always had trouble, back in my middle school days, finding the tiny amoebas under the microscope in life science. This, though, is a far different connundrum: How does one put such a fathomless God... under a microscope? He's macro, if ever macro was.

And yet not distant... and so a telescope would be no use.

How can we magnify such intimate greatness?

First, by rejoicing that he is too vast to contain under a puny glass.

Then, by taking note of how He...

1) is working in our lives right now,

2) has worked in our lives in the past, and

3) has always worked in the lives of His dear ones, from the beginning of time.

Whatever facet(s) of Him are on full display in our lives right now, let's search them out as he's searched us out. Let's magnify that part of Him, rejoice in it, exalt His name in it.

So... my question for you today focuses on #1 above: what is God doing in your life right now? Share if you like, that we may take note and magnify Him together!

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