Posts in Glimpses
CHRISTMAS AT OUR HOUSE: adopted
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Last night we took Sunday to the Nutcracker. Dressed all up in her red cape, hair twisted into adorable puff balls, a smile so big she could hardly see through her squinted eyes… she glowed.

 

It was a double date… Pops and Amma, Uncle Matt and Sunday.

And we twittered and tweeted and Insta’d and flickered… while Sunday just grinned. She was the star and she knew it, like a princess knows her subjects adore her— of course.

Wide-eyed with wonder, our little grand-girl took it all in.

The glitter, the elegance, the crowd, the kids. She had no idea what we were doing, just that we were loving her.

Opening a world of beauty a little wider.

Taking her by the hand to experience something grand together.

She laughed and she clapped at all the wrong times. Just an outburst of joy at being there!

Sitting on my lap to see, Sunday danced and wiggled to the beat of a drum I could not hear. She seemed to go in all the wrong directions,  unbound by what she did not know.

And it dawned on me suddenly that just over 8 months ago Sunday sat in an orphanage on the other side of the world. Her life was confined and confusing, devoid of beauty, of wonder, of the love of family.

One year ago John Mark and Tammy called us to pray- they’d been assigned a child from the agency. Would they take her?

All we had was a picture. And just the barest sketch of a story. And the belief that when we pray for wisdom, for guidance, for grace… He gives it. Generously.

And He did and He has!

Sunday Love Comer is an unbearably generous gift from God to all of us. We love her. I mean, we actually, really, honestly love our little girl.

GENERATIONS

ONE OF THE GANG!

A SPECIAL BOND

And aren’t we all like Sunday? Adopted by a Father who loves us, who opens beauty and wonder each day.

Cherished, adored, disciplined, included, brought close, held tight, taught, shown off, given gifts, wanted.

Adopted!

God decided in advance to adopt us into his own family

by bringing us to himself through Jesus Christ.

This is what he wanted to do, and it gave him great pleasure.

So we praise God for the glorious grace he has poured out on us

who belong to his dear Son.

He is so rich in kindness and grace that he purchased our freedom

with the blood of his Son and forgave our sins.

He has showered his kindness on us,

along with all wisdom and understanding.

Ephesians 1:5-8

NLT

From my heart,

Diane

Christmas At Our House
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Eleven days ‘til Christmas. Eleven days to plan and shop and wrap and bake and cook and write notes and clean and get everything ready for our Comer Christmas.

Eleven days of joy. And maybe just a little stress and a bit of worry.

Will I get it done? Should I stop everything else to work more? Longer? Harder?

And I already know the answer.

No.

For the next eleven days I’ll just mix all these tasks with a heart overflowing with love and memories and anticipation of my family coming together to celebrate.

My favorite days with my favorite people in my favorite place.

Would you like to see? To watch what happens at our house?

(My grandma gave me this angel on my first Christmas- 53 years ago. She's frayed and crooked and full of rich memories just like me. I think she must be in style again... vintage.)

Leading up to Christmas Day and then on into the week after, I’d like to invite you into my home and heart. Let you see our Christmas, our family, our ways of celebrating the story of God coming close.

Let me warn you: we love Christmas. All of it. The extravagance of gifts for each other, the scents of cinnamon and ginger and chocolate and good things coming fresh out of the oven, even the mess we make in the midst of all this fun.

(pine cones from my parent's house in the Sierras)

We are neither minimalists nor perfectionists. We just love Christmas.

From my heart,

Diane

 

REAL LIFE
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Command those who are rich in this present world not to be arrogant

nor to put their hope in wealth, which is so uncertain,

but to put their hope in God, who richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment.

 

Command them to do good, to be rich in good deeds, and to be generous and willing to share.

In this way they will lay up treasure for themselves as a firm foundation for the coming age,

so that they may take hold of the life that is truly life. 

1 Timothy 6:17-18

(NIV)

Balaam was an interesting guy. His story resonates with that restless I so often sense inside of me.

He was drawn to godliness, intrigued by God’s people, danced around the edges of what Paul called “the life that is truly life”.  And yet Balaam just wouldn’t let go of what he was certain he needed.

He needed more money. He craved prestige. He’d do about anything for a good word of approval and praise.

I can so relate…

This morning I woke up restless again. Worried again. Uptight and fretful and without joy  again.

I delved right into the Word without so much as a Hello, God, how are You? I had a list to cross off and I was behind on my list. Again.

Deuteronomy chapter 11 was first. All about the blessings of obedience and the misery of disobedience. In spite of my task oriented determination to fly through a few chapters fast this morning, my heart just stuck right here.

Why don’t I feel blessed? Why am I so… grim?

What’s wrong with me?

I couldn’t think of any outright disobedience. No obvious sin came to my mind.

Except…

I felt a little Balaam-ish… wanting, striving, craving MORE.

More perfection in my slightly messy home. Surely if I get my house cleaned up just so, then I’ll be happy.

More things crossed off my list. Surely if I can just get ahead of all these tasks that need doing, then I’ll be happy.

More approval from people. Surely if I do something, that person who is so critical will like me and then I’d be happy.

More stuff. Surely, if my sofa wasn’t sagging and my carpet was newer and my fridge worked better, then I’d be happy.

And suddenly I know exactly what’s wrong with me. Like Balaam, I’m skirting around the edges of the life that is truly life, unable to fully embrace that life because I’m clinging to other gods.

And the One true God, the One who calls Himself my Father, just won’t have it. He insists on being enough.

What sweet relief! Joy! I feel the start of a smile unclench my grimness.

He is enough!

I don’t need a perfectly clean and alphabetically ordered life.

I don’t need everyone to like me all the time.

I certainly don’t need a new sofa when mine is nicely broken in and slightly tattered, just right for grandkids and good friends and my coffee-sloshing family.

I don’t know if I’ll ever learn this lesson enough to not forget again… but I’m so thankful for my Father’s reminder this morning.

He is enough for me. More than enough.

He, and He alone, satisfies my cravings. He, and He alone, is what I long for.

It is His perfection I want. His beauty I need. His newness every morning that fills me with that wonderful sense of acquiring something really good— something great.

I’m still behind on my list, still surrounded by imperfection, still sitting on my sagging sofa…

and all settled into that life He gives…

From my heart,

Diane

And you? Have you figured out what it is you’re craving? Dare you be honest enough to let us know and give us hope? I’d love to learn from you…

RUTH: WEEK SEVEN
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Ruth 1v6-22

The Journey (Part Two)

Verse of the Week:

“DO ALL THINGS WITHOUT GRUMBLING AND FAULTFINDING AND COMPLAINING (AGAINST GOD) AND QUESTIONING AND DOUBTING (AMONG YOURSELVES).” PHILIPPIANS 2:14 AMP

 

More words from the Father:

Colossians 3:8-14

Psalm 139

Luke 10:41,42

 

From my Heart:

What About Me? 

On pondering Ruth’s boldness, her verve, her enthusiastic embracing of hardship, I find myself asking, “What about me?”

Have I arrived at this place, in this role, because God led me here? Or did I take a few too many wrong turns along the way and then settle in just to survive? Am I here…doing what I’m doing…being who I am…because I’ve so entrusted my life to the Father that I have followed every hint, every word He has spoken and landed finally in my sweet spot? Am I in that place intended for me to serve Him?

Or not?

Did I, instead, take the reins in my own hands to drive me and everyone else around me down the road I chose…the path I preferred? What if, deep down inside, I don’t want to be this person I’ve become along the way? What if I don’t want to do the things that define me?

What if…

I don’t want to play the role of policewoman/Nazi-commander in my home anymore? Will the world collapse around me if I turn nice? Will clothes mold in wadded up piles? Will the health department have to step in and close down the kitchen if I’m not there to catch every crumb? Will my husband bankrupt us? Will he go off and buy a Maserati the minute I let up?

What would happen if I let go of control?

Should I warn them first?

“By the way, I’ve decided to play the nice guy from now on. No more scolding, sulking, silently disapproving. I’ve decided to be like Ruth and Sarah. Oh…and Mary. Definitely like her.”

“From now on I’ll ask nicely, or not at all. Because I love you, with all your faults and flaws, you don’t have to fit yourself to me any more because I find you fascinating and fun, intriguing, and delightful.”

What would happen after I scraped them off the floor?

And what if…

I don’t want to be bound by my birthdays anymore? Are the freshman 15 and baby-fat and middle-age spread inevitable? Or could I push my slothful self out the door, slip into my running shoes and change all that? And if my body is indeed the temple of the Spirit of God, aren’t I somewhat obligated to try?

What if…

I quit complaining? Would I be okay if nobody knew I had a headache? I once tried not to complain for a whole week. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t even make it through one whole day! My conversation is laced with common complaints.

“My, its hot…

cold…

dreary…

muggy…

busy…

crowded…

crazy…

boring today.”

What if I stopped all that?

What if I never said a bad thing about anybody ever again? Would I have anything to talk about?

The real question is, “Can I change?” Can I overcome my past patterns to become who I want to be…who I believe God made me to be? Can I overthrow my history, much like Ruth did, to reinvent myself? Can I really change by choosing?

One glance through Scripture convinces me I can. The change in Peter between who he was at the end of the gospel of Luke and who he emerged to be in the beginning of the story of Acts is nothing short of astounding! He went from whining wimp to warrior preacher in how many days?

What about Paul? Talk about an about-face!

And John? Jesus nicknamed him and his brother, James, the “sons of thunder,” clearly referring to their raging tempers. A look at his trilogy of letters in first, second, and third John reveals an entirely different temperament. There he’s known as the “Apostle of Love.”

If they can change, can’t I?

I can almost hear Jesus break in to interrupt my raging thoughts… “Martha, Martha…hush now…settle down…you are worried and bothered about so many things.” “Mary,” He gently reminds me, “has chosen the good part.

Choosing the good part…again,

From my heart,

Diane

 

Wisdom from the Scriptures

Naomi

Naomi’s life started out well. Pleasant, as the meaning of her name suggests. She grew up in the town of Bethlehem, situated in the bread basket of Israel. Her childhood would have evolved around agriculture: plowing, planting, gathering, preparing, and the celebrations which accompanied ample harvests.

She married well. Elimelech was of the elite tribe of Ephrathites, thought to be the founding fathers of Judah. Their family originated with Caleb, Joshua’s consort in their spying days.1

But then her life took a downturn. Due to an apparent famine, Naomi’s husband chose to defy the dictates of the Mosaic Covenant2 and migrate to the land of Moab. There, she lost her entire family to premature death; first Elimelech, and soon thereafter, her two adult sons, Mahlon and Chilion. She found herself abandoned and alone in a foreign land, estranged from the God of her childhood, far away from all that was familiar and safe.

Called a “female Job” by many commentators,3 Naomi becomes a spokesperson for every woman who suffers. In the narrative you get a clear look at Naomi’s hurting heart. She is exposed, bearing her pain for all to see. Naomi feels that God is against her (Ruth 1:13, 21), that He has afflicted her (1:21), and brought misfortune upon her (1:21). She feels empty (1:21) and bitter (1:20).

And yet, little does she know, God is lovingly dictating even the most excruciating of circumstances. By the middle of the story, Naomi is dishing out wise advice to her daughter-in-law. She exhibits a keen understanding of her culture and even an underlying sense of God’s purpose for His people. And she gets her happily-ever-after ending. Holding her grandson, Obed, in her arms, Naomi’s life once again takes on meaning and purpose. Her friends bless her and help her to recognize that God is restoring her life and giving her hope for her future.

In this raw and wrenching depiction of pain, the God of Scripture gives us permission to go ahead and ask those questions that defy easy answers, to rail against the circumstances that upend everything we hoped for.

Naomi’s story is a story of a God who listens…and cares.

WILL YOU PRAY FOR ME?
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Tonight I will tell my story at a church in Eugene called Ekklesia. 

I'll be nervous of course, trying frantically to memorize what I wrote but will not say...

But I'm excited too. This is a church full of young people with great hearts to listen and learn and do. They're coming to hear how the Father worked in my life and it is my prayer and hope that they leave filled with wonder at His goodness.

So will you pray? Please?

Last night I heard Pastor Mutatu, from Zimbabwe say,

 No prayer, no power.

Little prayer, little power.

More prayer, more power.

Much prayer, much power!

And so I cry out for much prayer.

God's power to grip our hearts and heal deep wounds and teach and encourage-- especially that! 

From my heart,

Diane

P.S. I'll be sure to send lots of pics via Instagram...

RUTH: WEEK SIX
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The Journey

Ruth 1:6-22

 (Click here to listen to the second teaching in the Ruth study.)

Scene II of our drama brings the spotlight onto the three widows: Naomi, determined to travel back to her land of Israel alone; Ruth, equally determined to find and follow Naomi’s God; and Orpah, uncertain which path to take.

An argument ensues. Naomi, painting the bleakest possible picture of the life that lies ahead, manages to convince Orpah to turn back to the relative safety and security of her old life. Ruth, on the other hand, resolves to forsake all and follow the way of her mother-in-law.

In a beautiful soliloquy which we often hear reiterated at weddings, Ruth declares her intention to go with Naomi, adopting Naomi’s people, land, and God as her own.

Orpah kisses. Ruth clings. 

Orpah turns back. Ruth forges forward.

The path Ruth takes with Naomi is dangerous and filled with hardship. Much like our own determination to follow Jesus, these women must set their eyes on the hope ahead of them in order to endure. They must face each obstacle head on, courageously depending on God to show them the way and give them the strength to move forward.

Our own journey takes a similar road. The prophet Isaiah called it the Highway of Holiness. It is a road where the Redeemed walk safe, though surrounded by “wilderness and desert,” a road leading to a place where, at long last, “sorrow and sighing flee away.”

Come along with these two women who are so much like us. Delve into their story, identify with their fears and failures. Rise up with their hopes and triumphs. These women are here to show us the way to the One who captures our hearts and holds us safe in His love forever.

#1:

“WE ALSO PRAY THAT YOU WILL BE STRENGTHENED WITH HIS GLORIOUS POWERSO THAT YOU WILL HAVE ALL THE PATIENCE AND ENDURANCE YOU NEED…” COLOSSIANS 1:12 FRAGMENT NLT 

#2:

Colossians 1:9-12

Colossians 2:1-7

Psalm 143 

#3:

The Beauty of Kindness

How must Ruth have felt that day as she trudged towards Naomi’s land? She was a despised Moabitess, attempting to slip unobtrusively into the tiny town of Bethlehem. She couldn’t remain unnoticed for long. Everything about her was different: the way she dressed, the way she wore her hair, even the halting way she spoke as she struggled to wrap her tongue around those strange Hebrew vowels. But it was her history that was her undoing.

Ruth the Moabitess.

Her title defined her.

Worlds of prejudice were wrapped up in that word.

All that was evil and immoral,

Dangerous and undignified,

She was a bad woman.

Sometimes I feel summarized in much the same way.

Stuck in a role that everyone expects of me.

A role that chafes and irritates.

A role that confines and defines me.

A role that doesn’t fit very well,

like a too-short t-shirt - so uncomfortable!

And yet, passively, I plod on, doing what I’ve always done, being who I’ve always been, caught in a catch-22 of my own making. What else is a woman to do?

What did Ruth do?

This woman defied the discouraging expectations of others. She didn’t set out to prove them wrong. No speeches about giving her a chance. No long soliloquies explaining herself to her skeptics. She simply served. Quietly, Ruth rebuilt her reputation by serving the one woman who really needed her: Naomi. She broke the bonds of people’s expectations by gathering grain, showing kindness, sharing a meal, and taking initiative.

Doing what she could.

Doing what she should.

She didn’t sit around hoping someone would do the right thing. There was nothing passive about Ruth. That girl just got out there and went to work. I love it!

I love how the Bible, upon a closer look, blows our picture of piety. Ruth is applauded for aggressively going after the lowest job of all - gleaning. Instead of letting this desperate act ruin her life forever, she builds her future on the beauty of her kindness. She entices the man of her dreams not by sexual seduction, but by the sweet allure of servanthood. Rather than allow her history to limit her, she uses it to propel her to greatness.

Now that’s a picture of bold, biblical womanhood!

From my heart,

Diane

ETC:

The Moabites

The Moabites were the archenemies of Israel. Not opponents to be feared or revered, nor foes to challenge the mightiest of their warriors. The Israelites despised these enemies on their border for their weak and deceitful ways. Their lineage didn’t help, descended from the incestuous relationship between Abraham’s nephew, Lot, and his oldest daughter. The Moabites were named after the son of that drunken seduction (see that story in Genesis 19:30-38). And their women were the worst.

Their story goes back a ways…

More than 150 years earlier, during the long and arduous trek through the wilderness, Moses had sent a diplomatic envoy to request permission to cross through the land of Edom on what was known as “The King’s Highway.” Even with assurances that the Israelites would not trample their farmland or use up their water, the king refused, sending an imposing force to intimidate the travelers (Numbers 20:14-21). Apparently, Moab was a part of this alliance against the Israelites (Judges 11:17) beginning a blood feud which would last for at least ten generations (Deuteronomy 23:3-6).

The biblical portrayal of the character of the Moabites was less than admirable. Proud and arrogant (Isaiah 16:6), idolatrous (1 Kings 11:7), superstitious (Jeremiah 27:3, 9), rich and confident (Jeremiah 48:7), men of war (Jeremiah 48:14), hostile to Israel (Psalm 83:6)-not exactly the kind of people you want living next door.

Tensions between the nations worsened when Balak, king of Moab, called for the prophet Balaam to come and curse Israel. And while Balaam certainly tried, he was unable to effectively cast a curse on this nation who was under the protection and guidance of the Almighty. Yet what havoc the errant prophet was powerless to create through divination, the women of Moab succeeded in wrecking through seduction. The story, found in Numbers 25, began with just “some” men accepting the invitations of the Moabite women to join them in the sexually erotic worship of their gods, but the destruction spread to involve the deaths of 24,000 people in Israel. While Balaam attempted unsuccessfully to turn the Lord against His people, he was sadly successful at turning God’s people away from their Lord. The tragedy struck a stunning blow to the fledgling nation. How a small group of Moabite and Midianite women could seduce thousands of Israelite men away from their declared intention to be faithful followers of Yahweh became the ultimate horror and humiliation for every family in Israel.

Much like pornography today, these people “devoted themselves to shame and they became as detestable as that which they loved” (Hosea 9:10 NLT). Their idolatrous sexual sins are held up once again in the letter to the church in Pergamum, as dangerous deviations from God’s plan to bless their lives (Revelation 2:14-16).

No wonder the Israelites in Naomi’s day looked somewhat suspiciously at her daughter-in-law Ruth. The thought of a young Moabite widow in their small town must have sent tremors through their tight-knit community. Was she a seductress like her ancestors? A blatant heathen who would bring her erotic gods to entice their men? These women would have been understandably reluctant to welcome Ruth into their midst. She would have to prove herself first, and to be very careful to watch her back while she did so.

 

I LOVE TO READ
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I love to read. I mean I really LOVE to read! 

I’d rather have books than new clothes…

I’d rather have books than fancy vacations…

I’d rather have books than… well, most anything.

My idea of an ideal day is the freedom to curl up somewhere quiet, “unplug” (aka take my cochlear off so I can relish uninterrupted silence), and crack open a new book.

And so I thought I’d tell you about some of the books I’m reading as well as alert you to a few I’ve read and loved. Just in case you love to read too and need a few to add to your stack or think you’d really like to learn to love to read but can only remember those boring text book pages you had to slog through in school.

So… today’s book:

1000 Gifts

by Ann Voskamp

Beautiful, moving, poetic, raw, thought-provoking, stirring, convicting, uplifting, life changing… need I say more? 

This is my top of the year pick… maybe my top of the decade choice.

In her own words, this is “not an easy read”.

Ann Voskamp champions the art of a grateful spirit, challenging us to join her in counting the every day gifts God showers onto our lives.

She tackles topics that women rarely talk about, just splashes truth right out front and let’s us hurt with her.

She weaves stories with poetry and leads her readers just a little deeper than most modern authors go.

And then she brings us back into her kitchen and let’s us wash dishes with her as she moans her piles of dirty laundry.

This is a book I will read over and over again. And every time I do, I’ll step a little closer to that circle of Shalom my soul craves.

I’ll remember that truth that I sometimes forget... that God is good and He’s good to me and the giving of thanks weaves His beauty down deep into the fiber of my heart.

If you’ve read it and love it to, will you leave a comment? All you Ann Voskamp fans! And if you’ve never delved into her blog, go to www.aholyexperience.com

From my heart,

Diane

IMPERFECT
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Notes from my week in Italy:

 

We are merely moving shadows,

And all our busy rushing ends in nothing…

And so, Lord,

Where do I put my hope?

My only hope is in You.

Psalm 39:7

NLT

 

One thing I am coming to love about Italians is their seemingly peace-filled coexistence with imperfection.

These are people dedicated to beauty. Artists, creators, storytellers, masterpiece makers. They have spent centuries improving this Eden they call Italy.

And yet… nothing is perfect.

Bricks crumble, houses lean, tiles crack, weeds grow. Life happens.

And instead of scrambling to fix it all and paint it all perfect, these people just settle comfortably into their sun-drenched skin and live.

They raise less-than-perfect children in their less-than-perfect houses where they cook less-than-perfect pasta with freshly picked less-than-perfect tomatoes.

Nothing goes to waste.

Who needs massive box stores when the tiny Farmacia down that twisiting lane will sell you 1 roll of skimpy, scratchy toilet paper at a time? And why bother with wash cloths? Or daily showers? A quick rinse of who-knows-what in that thingy-ma-jig in the bathroom and we’re good to go.

And yet beauty is everywhere. Ancient beauty— worn and lived and survived and thrived and lived-a-little-more kind of loveliness.  So different from this gotta-have-every-scratch-covered-over kind of plasticity that drives my life.

I rest here. Breathe a deep sigh of relief from all my striving, my lists, my worry about getting it all done in time to do more…

And this morning while I sit on a cracked stone bench in an untended garden of imperfect artistry, my soul sinks into silence.

List-less. Sun-filled. Quieted.

Cease striving, He whispers.

All your rushing, fixing, improving, redoing, list making, achieving is simply wearing you down, rendering you useless to Me.

I don’t require perfection...

I make beauty in your brokenness when you simply soak Me in.

Of course.

I forgot.

Again.

And so I’ll spend this day remembering that all this less-than-perfect world I relish is just a backdrop for His beauty.

And I’ll soak… and cease striving… and know Him.

From my heart,

Diane

 

A SPRINKLE OF GLITTER AND SHINY RED SHOES
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  Fearing people is a dangerous trap,

But to trust the LORD means safety. 

Proverbs 29:25

My heart catches, early one morning, at these words.

Over and over in the past few months, my Father has been leaning these truths into my soul… easing them in, wedging His ways past my resistance…

This morning it begins to make sense, drawing me in for a closer look.

To fear, in this Biblical sense, means to be in awe of, to desire to please.

And isn’t that just what entraps me time and time again?

This innate craving for acceptance?

For approval?

This not-so-subtle sense that if only everybody likes me, or notices me, or just thinks I’m good, then surely I must be.

Isn’t that why I dress the way I do? Slightly understated, not too loud or bright or glittery… when deep down I love anything shiny and grand, secretly admiring the woman walking by in red high heels with that confident swagger in her steps…

Why can’t I wear that?

And I can but I won’t because people might laugh or point or disapprove. And that, after all, would be a Terrible Thing.

Why is my heart so easily crushed when someone criticizes me? Or so much as hints at disapproval?

Why does it freeze me up when someone acts irritated with me? Why does that matter so much?

Here’s why:  I fear people.

That desire to please is holding me in its too tight grip— like stuffing myself in a size too small.

And maybe I shouldn’t keep sucking it in to try to fit anymore.

Maybe I should just be me. 

And maybe that’s just what my Father is waiting for.

The chance to show me that He likes the way He wired me up. A woman who loves glitter and gloss and shiny red convertibles, yet craves quiet corners of all aloneness.

This strange mix that is me.

Maybe what He’s really waiting for is this second part of Proverbs 29:5… but to trust the LORD means safety. 

Because maybe safety is what I’m really all about…. and maybe keeping myself safe from criticism and disapproval is not my job... maybe it’s His…and maybe He’s not all that worried about what other people think of me…and maybe He doesn’t want me to be either… because maybe He has work for me to do… and maybe that work involves loving people no matter what…

 Even critics. 

Here’s the only thing I know for sure in all my maybe’s and what-if’s:

Fearing people is a dangerous trap,

But to trust the LORD means safety.

Proverbs 29:25 

And if you’ve figured some of this out lately, do you have any words of wisdom for me? I think its time I learned what the Father has been trying to teach me for a long, long time.

From my heart,

Diane

GlimpsesIntentional Parents
RUTH: WEEK FOUR
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#1 “MY CHILD, NEVER FORGET THE THINGS I HAVE TAUGHT YOU. STORE MY COMMANDS IN YOUR HEART, FOR THEY WILL GIVE YOU A LONG AND SATISFYING LIFE.” PROVERBS 3:1-2 NLT

#2

Proverbs 3:5-8

Jeremiah 2:12-13

Psalm 36:5-9

Psalms 63

Matthew 5:1-6

Hosea 6:1-3

1 Peter 1:1-9

#3

The Way of the Kingdom: 

Trust in the Lord with all your heart,

And do not lean on your own understanding.

In all your ways acknowledge Him,

And He will make your paths straight.

Do not be wise in your own eyes;

Fear the Lord and turn away from evil.

It will be healing to your body,

and refreshment to your bones.

Proverbs 3:5-8

Every year for seven years, those filthy, camel-riding, shiftless raiders robbed the Israelites of a year’s worth of toil. And the men and women whose backs were breaking from the hard work could do nothing but shake their fists in red-faced anger.

The frustrated Israelites tried everything to thwart their enemies’ modus operandi. They burrowed deeply into the mountain caves in the region to hide their harvests; they threshed their wheat at the bottom of winepresses, yet nothing worked. The Midianites’ sheer numbers overwhelmed the tiny nation.

Perhaps it was during this time that Elimelech set out for Moab. And can you blame him?

Though he should have stayed in the Promised Land, though he knew full well that God had warned his forefathers in the clearest of terms to remain in the land no matter what, and though he had to have been warned by family and friends, still he went.

What would you have done?

When completely overtaken by financial woes, when there is just no way to pay the bills, let alone to pay off debts and get ahead, wouldn’t you bail?

What about when a relationship turns sour? Who hasn’t taken a swipe at someone who hurt us, knowing all the while that Jesus so clearly stated the Kingdom Way when He admonished us to “turn the other cheek”?

Aren’t we all tempted to try to dig our way out of times of fearsome famines?

And yet Elimelech died there in that forbidden land.

Deliberate disobedience on the part of a child of God always brings death:

death of a relationship,

death of integrity,

death to purity or reputation or hope.

The Way of the Kingdom is rarely easy, often times frustrating, usually difficult, and always best.

And that, my dear friends, is just the way it is…

From my heart,

Diane

Etc.

Words:

Sojourned Remained Lived

The first five verses of the book of Ruth paint a painful picture of a family’s journey away from the God of their ancestors. Their Hebrew history, culture, and relationship to God were firmly rooted in the land which God had given them. Elimelech left all that behind when he decided to move to Moab.

From the very beginning of the story, God allows us to see what went wrong with Elimelech’s decision to fend for himself rather than wait on God to provide for him. A pattern emerges, a progression which serves as a warning to any and all of us who share Elimelech’s compulsion to control our lives.

First, they sojourned. The root ger means to live among people who are not relatives, to be dependent on the hospitality which played such an important role in the ancient near eastern cultures. A sojourner did not enjoy the rights usually possessed by a resident. Because they had “no blood ties to the residents, they only had legal rights as the dominant peoples permitted which were often whimsically granted and withdrawn.”

Next, Elimelech and Naomi remained in Moab. The Hebrew verb haya means to be, to become, to be done, to come to pass. Here the progression moves forward. “The family had planned only to sojourn temporarily in Moab, but they remained 10 years.”

Finally, the family of four lived there about ten years. The word can also be taken to mean to dwell, to linger, to sit. It implies permanence. Yashab is often used when describing how our faithful God lives with us. Yet here the word paints a picture of a family fully involved in the culture of the country they have chosen to make their home.

Check out another interesting progression of words found in Psalm 1. There, a man is considered blessed if he does not walk or stand or sit with the crowd. Yashab, the Hebrew word translated sit in Psalm 1:1 is the same word translated lived in Ruth 1:4.

Elimelech

“God is King”

Little is known about Elimelech, and what we do know doesn’t line up with the name given him at birth. What grand plans his parents must have had for him as they crowned him with such a glorious title of “God is King.” Did they hope he’d be the next king of Israel, a high and holy priest, or simply a successful supporter of the Temple? Whichever it was, Elimelech didn’t measure up.

Elimelech came from the ancient clan of Ephrathites, one of the aristocratic families of Bethlehem. As such, he was an important landowner in a time when land meant everything to a man: work, status, influence, and prosperity.

As a Jew, Elimelech would have known and been solemnly warned of the dangers of moving to Moab. He had family in Bethlehem: both Boaz and a “relative closer than I” stuck out the famine in the town of their inheritance. The late preacher J. Vernon McGee wrote: “Elimelech should not have gone into the land of Moab, regardless of the conditions in the land of Promise. It is never a delightful story when a member of the chosen seed leaves the Land of Promise and goes into the far country.”

None-the-less, he went, and moreover, he stayed there in that forbidden land, bringing death and destruction on himself and his two sons. Instead of living up to his name and making his God the King of his plans, Elimelech ignored the warnings in the Word as well as the warnings of his family and went his own way.

Elimelech lost his life while trying to find it.

 

Glimpses, RuthIntentional Parents
A WOMAN
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Today is my daughter’s birthday. And though Bekah lives far away and I miss her every day, I am so proud of the life she lives right where God has assigned her.

She is like me in so many ways— she loves books and stories and poetry and people and home and beauty…

And yet, really, we couldn’t be more different— she is vivacious while I am hesitant, she is bold while I am careful, she gobbles her world in great gulps, while I sip slowly…

I love this woman, am so thankful for all the years, for all the memories, for all the grace.

Happy Birthday Rebekah Ruth (Comer) Opperman! 

 

A Woman 

On this day for you my mind is choked with moments of days gone by.

 Rhythms and rhymes, 

words and pictures

burst from some hidden place

begging to be allowed out. 

I watched my belly swell to create a safe place for you to hide.

Then filled and ached and learned to nourish you from somewhere deep inside.

I burped and

changed and            

 wiped and

worried through all those years of toddlerhood.

Then hoped and

fussed and

feared through all the angst of everyday.

I played dress up,

rode horse-back,

read stories.

And welcomed feet dangling in the waters of my bath.                         

And suddenly you are a woman.  

A woman of beauty and strength,

filled with joy and

hope and 

dreams and 

fierce desires.

Where did the years go?

            Did all those minutes make up that many days?                          

What happened to those

harsh words,            

 furious tears, 

 the misunderstandings and the missteps? 

Did I forget too much to remember reality? 

Or did the beauty of your life

make room for those

terrible times

of my shame and my nakedness                        

to somehow slide away?

You lavish the best of your love on me

casting shadows of His mercy

on the shelter of His grace. 

As all the minutes merge into memories,

            I catch my breath in wonder that

we laugh and

joy and

hope together now.

 Friends. 

I love you dear one,

Mom

                                   

 

 

 

 

GlimpsesIntentional Parents
PRAYERS ANSWERED
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You faithfully answer our prayers with awesome deeds,

O God our savior.

You are the hope of everyone on earth…

You inspire shouts of joy.

Psalm 65:4,8

Dear people-who-prayed,

Last week I felt myself bending beneath the load of expectations I knew I could not meet.

You know that feeling? That sinking in your insides?

Early one morning, as I told God again that I was inadequate for the task of teaching the retreat, He clearly and firmly told me to ask you, my friends near and far, to pray.

I struggled with that for just a little bit. It felt embarrassing. Vulnerable. Needy.

And I don’t want to be needy. I want to be strong and good, the one to show the way.

And yet…

I am needy. So full of need for what only He can give that without Him I’m sunk. And sometimes He pushes me so far out of my comfort zone that I need more than me and Him.

I need sisters… and brothers too.

And so I gathered the courage to ask and you answered with so much love it took my breath away!

But that’s not even the best part.

The crazy beauty of God is this: He shows up! 

On Friday, Saturday, and Sunday God showed His beauty and His adequacy and His passionate desire to connect with us, His children, by making His presence and power felt in a tangible way.

(the beauty in Sunriver)

Friday night I simply told my story. It is a story of my failure and God’s amazing faithfulness. I told them how angry I’d been when God didn’t heal my deafness. Told them about throwing my Bible across the room in a grandly rebellious gesture of in-His-face defiance. I let them know the truth of my ugliness, the depth of the darkness that nearly robbed me of everything and everyone I love. I told them about how I faked it, pretending to be the perfect pastor’s wife while crying hot tears of fury at God.

And instead of holding me at a distance, as if my awfulness might just rub off on them, these beautiful women seemed to sigh a collective breath of relief.

Because the story doesn’t end with me.  And your story doesn’t end with your failure either.

My story got interrupted by God— and I think every woman there wanted to stand up and clap at His entry into my ugliness!

My Redeemer, the One who rescued me, brought hope into that room Friday night.

Then on Saturday I finished my story, which really isn’t done yet. I taught them what He’s teaching me about listening and hearing and experiencing Him in a way I couldn’t have without seeing all that blackness inside.

But here’s what took me by surprise: these women got it! Every one of them wants what I want- to hear God. They latched onto my imperfectly worded parallels between my struggles to hear in this noisy world while deaf and all our struggling to hear God through the noisiness of real life.

I dared let them in and they galloped right into that openness without hesitation!

I loved their questions, their worship, their vulnerability, their strength, their hopefulness. I loved they way they loved on each other. I loved their loud bursts of laughter around tables, their shared lives, their nursing infants bundled against the mountain cold. I loved their willingness to make sacrifices to come.

You know what? I fell in love with these girls. And now I have more sisters and daughters and friends.

(the amazing women - blurry, I know, but I wanted to share these women with you!)

And so I thank you, dear sisters of mine. Thank you for praying, for sending such beautiful words about God’s goodness to remind me. Thank you for the notes and emails and comments and Facebook messages. I read them over and over again, clinging to His words to me through each of you. I relied on the truth of your words and the power of your prayers.

And now I’m relishing being home. Resting, connecting, planning for Christmas, meeting with women I love, playing with those grandkids I cherish… Matt came home Monday night to study and so, of course I cooked up a storm (so glad to hear that dorm food is no match for mine!)

I love you girls!

From my heart,

Diane

 

GlimpsesIntentional Parents
I DON'T WANT TO BE LIKE LIZA
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“Liza enjoyed universal respect because she was a good woman and raised good children. She could hold up her head anywhere. Her husband and her children and her grandchildren respected her. There was a nail-hard strength in her, a lack of any compromise, a rightness in the face of all opposing wrongness, which made you hold her in a kind of awe but not warmth.” 

Just the other night I finally cracked open John Steinbeck’s East of Eden.  Bekah gave it to me for my birthday (in June!) and I’ve been dragging my heals, reading easier stuff. It didn’t take me long, however, to get caught up in his story.

When I stumbled into this description of Liza I had to reread it several times. Maybe it was just late and my mind was too tired to catch on… or maybe I saw a little too much of myself in her. That  always-right-rigidity hit just a little too close to home.

Who wants to be like Liza?

Respected, admired, proud, and strong— but held in awe and not warmth.

And isn’t that what happens when we insist on being right all the time? When we hint at disapproval by just the way our mouth draws a straight line and we say… nothing? Or just enough to hint at shame?

I think I’d rather be like Jesus.  Faced with prideful and hostile opposition, He spoke grace over His critics. In turn, people all around Him were…

wondering at the gracious words which were falling from His lips.

Luke 4:22

May He leak some of that loveliness all over each of us who want to be so very different than Steinbeck’s Liza!

From my heart,

Diane

GlimpsesIntentional Parents
RUTH: WEEK 3
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#1 “I REACH OUT FOR YOU. I THIRST FOR YOU AS PARCHED LAND THIRSTS FOR RAIN.” PSALM 143:6 NLT

#2

John 1:1

Psalm 42:1,2

Psalm 63

John 4:1-14

John 7:37-39

Psalm 143:6

Isaiah 32:1-4

1 Timothy 6:17-19 

#3

Are You Thirsty?

The day of the race dawned warm and clear, promising the perfect weather in which to run. I’d anticipated this day for over a year, part of my tongue-in-cheek mid-life crisis for the summer I turned 50. Middle aged and notoriously unathletic, a half marathon seemed the perfect antidote to the inevitability of aging. As I packed my bag with extra socks, sunglasses, and packets of jelly beans, I kept debating the dilemma of the hour. Should I do as all the books say (and yes, the ultimate book worm learns to run by reading!) and drink plenty of fluids before the race? Or should I heed my own inner-worry: that I’d end up in line for the porta-potty while I watched the race run by? In the end, I compromised, downing a little water at the start and a lot of water at each of the stations. I passed the porta-potties right by! You need water. Lots of it. Thirst is different than hunger in that you absolutely must have water in order to survive. While someone can go weeks and weeks without food, you cannot live without water for more than about 72 to 120 hours (three to five days). One week without water and we’re dead.

Water in Scripture symbolizes the Holy Spirit. Our souls thirst for the Spirit of God to enable us to be nourished by the Word of God. You cannot survive, let alone thrive, without both the water of the Spirit and the Word of God to satisfy you. Yet how many Bible studies have you and I attended and how many sermons have we listened to without once inviting, begging, pleading with the Holy Spirit to speak to us? To give us water to drink?

The one redeeming contribution the Old Testament priest, Eli, made in spite of his myriad mistakes, was to teach young Samuel this concept: 

“…if He calls you, you shall say,

‘Speak, for Thy servant is listening’.”

I Samuel 3:9

God wants to refresh you and satisfy you through His Word. He names Himself Logos, the Word (John 1:1), to let you and I know that He is speaking. But it takes the Spirit of God within you to enable you to drink those words in and quench your desperate thirst. Bible studies and sermons will bounce right off if you are not walking in and with the Spirit, waiting expectantly for Him to speak to you. Even the discipline of daily devotions will leave you parched and dry unless done in the power of His Spirit.

And it doesn’t take a twelve-step program to remember how to drink. Little Samuel can tell you that. With Eli’s help, he learned early in his life to invite God to speak to him. Over months and years and decades, Samuel honed this skill, learning to listen with intensity and focus. By the end of his life, Samuel was one of the wisest and most trusted priests ever to represent God in all of Israel.

We all would do well to remember Samuel’s secret, and to sincerely pray Samuel’s one sentence prayer every time we intend to drink in God’s Word:

“Speak, Lord,

Your servant is listening.”

From my heart,

Diane

Etc.

Who wrote Ruth? 

The writer of the book of Ruth reaches back to tell a story from distant memory. He sets it in a time other than his own: when the Judges ruled. Now, a King reigns over Israel and many of the problems which plagued the fledgling nation have been solved and set right by strong central leadership. Back then, the author writes, when times were turbulent and events often escalated out of control, a little family of four sets off to alleviate their poverty by leaving the land God had given them and going to the dreaded nation of Moab.

The author pens the tale as dispassionately as possible, but still, his sympathy seeps out of the edges of his story. No condemnation clouds his telling; he sticks to the facts. They went, they died, and only Naomi came back. This family of four is reduced to one: one grief-stricken widow.

Who wrote this story with so much tenderness? 

Some say it must have been written by a woman.1 Certainly the story has a feminine appeal. The conversations recorded and emotions portrayed are deeply insightful, unveiling an intimate understanding of human relationships and of feminine friendships in particular.

Others attribute this story to Samuel. Rabbinic tradition credits the beloved prophet/priest with the writing of Judges, Ruth, and First and Second Samuel.2 And perhaps he did write it, though he couldn’t have completed the story since he didn’t live long enough to tack the genealogy at the end.

The bottom line is that nobody knows who wrote the book of Ruth. But someone did. Someone who didn’t want to get in the way by signing his (or her) name to the bottom of the page. Someone who loved the story. Someone who’d heard it told over and over again, told and retold with care and precision and passion. For this is a story not just about Ruth, or Naomi, or Boaz, but about a God who reaches through misery and heartache and hopelessness to reveal Himself to hurting people.

This is the story of a rescue.

 

PRAYER
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“Come to me with your ears wide open. Listen, and you will find life.

Isaiah 53:3

Dear friends,

I leave tomorrow for Sunriver, a retreat area in the mountains of central Oregon. There I will open my heart to a group of women who are longing to hear God better and clearer and more intimately.

I’ve packed and prepared, studied long hours and written more notes than I should have in preparation for this weekend.

Yet, still, I am afraid.

Afraid of failure. Afraid to let them in. Afraid of being boring, of talking too long, of talking at all!

I am, after all, a raging introvert. Content to love from far away, to sit curled in my chair by the window and think away my days…

This standing in front and talking is just plain painful for one such as I, a peeling away of protection.

And yet I go because God has given me a story. And though the story is about me, it’s not mine.

He wrote this tale of rescue and redemption.

He has taught me to hear, to love His words, to crave His presence.

And so I go with His words in my ears.

I’ll stutter and stumble and try to tell these hungry women how He has met me in the silence and spoken words of healing and hope to my brokenness.

Will you pray for me?

I just cannot prepare enough to do this well. I need God to do what He is so faithful to do and yet facing the fears, my faith wavers.

What if He doesn’t? What if it’s just me up there, all alone? What if I choke? What if I bore them all to sleep? 

Can you hear my fear?

And so this morning, I felt the Father nudging me to ask you, my fellow God-followers, to hold me before the throne for the next few days.

My own faith is pitifully small when it comes to fear-filled things.

Will you follow me up the mountain in prayer?

Will you ask the Father to show Himself strong to me?

In me?

Through me?

And even more, will you ask Him to speak to these beautiful women who are giving a weekend to learn to listen to Him?

Will you ask Him to send them home filled with Himself?

Thank-you!

I feel better already, as if the Father is smiling as He senses all your laughter at me- the laughter of women who know and care and love so well.

From my heart,

Diane

GlimpsesIntentional Parents
EVERYDAY FAITHFULNESS
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I thank Christ Jesus our Lord,

who has strengthened me,

because He considered me faithful,

putting me into service.

I Timothy 1:12

NASB

 Now it is required that those who have been given a trust must prove faithful.

I Corinthians 4:2

NIV

I sat on the edge of an alpine lake, course sand clinging sticky between bare toes. Golden granite sand, worn away from huge island boulders flung thousands of years ago from a mountain eruption miles away.

I’d been here in winter too, when the lake freezes deep and snow reaches high into the branches of Ponderosa pines and the highway closes and the only way in is by snowshoe or skis.

It seems unchanging, this refuge place. The same islands where John Mark yodeled Tarzan calls as he and his cousins leaped from granite cliffs, plunging into cold, clear, snow fed waters. Freezing my mother-heart with fears and what-if’s and unheeded pleadings to be careful!

How many times have I sunburned my skin as I lay on these rocks? Screeched when my kids snuck from behind to spray my dozing self with icy water? Collected pinecones to fill baskets for Christmas decorating?

I came here young, with babies and toddlers and return now, with wrinkles rimming my eyes and grandkids splashing the same water.

And always the lake stays the same.

Or does it?

This sand at my feet is not the same sand I stood on twenty years ago. New sand refreshes the shores every year. Boulders freeze, brittle pieces slough into the lake, waves lap relentlessly, over and over and over, again and again.

And God sees all that change.

Microscopic, miniscule, unmeasureable change.

One tiny grain at a time. These mild lake waves never stop, not even for a day. Nary a holiday, nor a day off, not so much as a pause. Never.

Lap, lap, lap.

I think that’s what it means to be faithful.

It means to show up every day. Every single day. To keep doing what I am called to do even when I can’t see a difference, can’t measure progress. When everything looks exactly the same.

Being faithful means I believe God. That I have discovered His bigness, that I have surrendered my story into His. It means setting myself aside because I believe He’s a better planner for me than I am. He knows what He is hoping to do with me, with my life, with my everydays.

Before I leave this listening place I’ll scoop some of this God-made sand to bring home with me. To run my fingers through when my faithfulness falters.

To remind me to keep lapping.

To be faithful.

From my heart,

Diane

 

GlimpsesIntentional Parents
IS COMPLAINING EVER OKAY?
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…God meant it for good 

in order to bring about this present result, to preserve many people alive.

Genesis 50:20

I am struck this morning by Joseph’s story[1] and wondering what it means for me.

His father had indulged in a lifetime of self-pity, using phrases like, “Everything is going against me!” (Genesis 42:36) to elicit sympathy and to manipulate his sons.

And yet Joseph never complains. Never.

Not even when at the age of 17 he finds himself a slave in a foreign land. Nor is a grumble of despair heard from him when, a few years later, he is falsely accused of attempted rape and tossed without trial into prison.

For thirteen long years Joseph was a slave and a prisoner. In those supposedly “best years of life” Joseph was in the worst possible circumstances.

And here I am in the best possible circumstances… complaining!

Why is that?

Well, to be honest, I think its because I do not believe, deep down where it counts, that God is taking care of me.

I mean I know He is, but that knowing gets lost somewhere in that 18 inch space between my brain and my heart and…

I am not convinced that in this moment God is taking care of me.

And that is because I have swallowed a lie.

Just as Eve was tempted to take a bite, I have willingly crunched and munched and fully digested that slippery, satanic idea that when not-so-good things happen to me, God is not taking care of me very well.

And yet…

Look at Joseph’s story. Can there be any doubt that in those dark days, God was at work?  That He was purposely using every single circumstance to train Joseph for a position that enabled him to save vast numbers of people from annihilation through starvation?

Do I really believe that He’ll do the same for me? That He’ll use every uncomfortable and inconvenient moment of my every days to train me for a task which I cannot foresee?

Because if I really believe that, right down where it counts, then there is really no room for complaining.

At all.

And that truth just might change the way I think today…

From my heart,

Diane

 


[1] Genesis 37-50

 

GlimpsesIntentional Parents
GENERATIONS: what every women ought to know about what it is he really wants.
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This Saturday, November 3rd, the women of Solid Rock are going to gather together to hear the message on the heart of a young woman I greatly admire. After a lovely light breakfast, I’ll be introducing you to Joy Eggerichs, who leads a ministry called Love and Respect NOW.

With humor and stories and life applications, she delves into the Scriptures in order to illuminate that hard-to-see path through the messiness of real life relationships.

You are not going to want to miss this!

Bring your best friend, your sister, you mom, your teenage daughter.

Let’s learn and laugh and figure out how to do this, girls!

I’ll be there in the front row with my notebook ready to catch all the wisdom I can.

Won’t you join me?

From my heart,

Diane

HERE IS WHAT YOU NEED TO KNOW:

WHEN: Saturday, November 3rd, 2012

TIME: 9AM - 11AM

WHERE: SR Westside, video venue

COST: $5 at the door

*no childcare provided

 

CAN'T VS. WON'T
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(source)

I had one of those rare privileges this week of being in a group email conversation to a friend who is grieving deeply and honestly. “Listening” to my sistas pour love and wisdom on my friend gave me the strangest sense of safety.

When I’m hurting these women will be there for me.

Here’s a snippet of the conversation that has had me thinking all day:

“How much of it is can't vs. won't? I've found myself mulling it over about all my stubborn sin patterns. 

How much of it have I assigned to myself as I can't do that when it really is a won't?

I'd challenge you to ask yourself that same question.

He can take your emotions. Your anger. Your grief. He just wants you to come and let Him be EVERYTHING that He is - He will be to you Prince of Peace, Comforter, Healer.”

Have you every said, I just can’t handle this! when life tripped something awful into your path? As if somehow our weakness is a good reason for all that pain to go away?

My friend’s words resonate somewhere deep in that hidden place where my will battles it out with my won’ts. And I go back to Paul’s struggle with that thing he didn’t want:

Therefore I am well content with weaknesses, with insults, with distresses, with persecutions, with difficulties, For Christ’s sake;

For when I am weak, then I am strong.

2 Corinthians 12:10

From a glimpse of my heart,

Diane

EVERYTHING IS ABOUT PLAY
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(source)

For this is the love of God, That we keep His commandments; And His commandments are not burdensome.

I John 5:3

Yesterday I made my list.

1.  Dust downstairs

2.  Mop kitchen floor

3.  Finish making jam

On and on the list droned the delight right out of my day.

Yet still, I had my list and it needed doing and so I did.

That’s when I saw the little Mobile Man standing at the door of my barn church.

Which started a quiet chuckle… then a laugh…which led to a full blown I love life moment as I imagined Jude or Duke or Mo or maybe it was Sunday, setting that little man there with a whole story to go with him.

And do you know what? That little man changed my whole day.

Children don’t work through lists.

They play—all day long.

And didn’t Jesus gather those play-planning kids into His lap and with twinkling eyes tell His goal-oriented, stress-driven disciples to be just like these little players?

“Like a child”, He said.

And so my list changed in that moment.

1.  Dance through my beautiful, cozy home, swinging a dust rag as I do so it’s all shining tonight when we get to pray over John as he leaves for Zimbabwe…

2.   Swish those sticky places and do a little jig of joy for all the meals prepared and people loved right over this floor…

3.  Create beauty in a jar and imagine the moment of opening in mid-winter…

4.  Discover… play all day!

I wonder if Jesus wasn’t thinking of me that day when He gathered those kids on His lap. Looking down through centuries, past history, at the stressed-out woman writing her list. Grim faced and determined to do it all.

“His commandments are not burdensome”, John said. So why am I so burdened?

Maybe because I need to be just like a child.

Maybe because He has other plans for this day.

Maybe because He wants me to play the day away…

From my heart,

Diane