Category Archives: a quick word

going “in”

I am exceedingly weary tonight, and my heart is greatly troubled. It’s just how it is. I cannot escape my tiredness, nor can I deny the heaviness I feel in my spirit. As much as I would like to be in this place, to take the time to fill up this space with words, I cannot. There’s simply not enough of me to go around this week. Accordingly I pull back, lay low, and retreat behind these walls that are strong, safe, and guarded.

We need them, you know—our boundaries. We shouldn’t fear them; we should celebrate them, crawl inside of them when the world demands its due. It’s sometimes hard to go in, sometimes difficult to put aside the temporal pull of our humanity. But harder still, is the struggle to stay out … be out … live out in the sea of humanity—a world that is not always kind and generous with its grace.

In is where I’ll find grace and generosity. In is where kindness lives. In is where Jesus is. In is where I must go until it’s safe to go out again.

Until then, sweet, tender peace for the journey, friends. I love you each one.

Going Fishing…

Going Fishing…

I pray you all had a blessed, peace-filled Easter celebration this year. It’s good to live on the other side of the cross–to receive grace and to daily walk in that grace knowing that our Lord’s got us covered.

The Lord has had me covered from my very beginning. I was born on Easter Sunday. While my dad was preaching about new life issuing forth from the tomb, my mom was pressing down bringing forth new life from her womb. I suppose you could say the cross has “kept” me, shadowed me and covered me all the days of my life. Tomorrow, I’ll celebrate my 46th birthday. I’ll do so knowing that not single day of those forty-six years has taken Jesus by surprise. From that very first Easter 2000 years ago, to that Easter morning in 1966, and straight through until now, God knew how desperately I would need Calvary. I still need it. Every morning. Every night. Every moment in between.

Sweet loving grace. Rich merciful love. I am humbled by them both, and I am grateful for another candle on the cake. Another song to be sung in my honor. Another day to remember my first Easter… my lasting Easter. Christ in me, the hope of glory.

Enjoy this Easter week, friends. I’ll be spending some time with my kids as they celebrate no school, no homework, and new fishing poles. And when I return, don’t be surprised to find a new look to the blog. It’s getting a much needed make-over, and I am excited for the change. As always…

Peace for the journey,
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4:58 PM

The aroma from the kitchen reaches my nostrils. It’s 4:58 PM… dinnertime. The first time in the last twenty hours when I’ve noticed my hunger.

I wonder why it has taken so long… this noticing of emptiness. I’m surprised it hasn’t happened sooner. I suppose it makes this chosen fast easier, at least when calculated by the clock. But when calculated by intention, not noticing my hunger earlier stymies the purpose—fasting from something in order to take hold of something… Someone.

I know why I’m doing it. I need to notice my hunger. In doing so, I call out for relief. I call upon Him to come. To find me. Meet me. Search me and know me. This is the feeding to satisfy the soul ache within. His are the hands filled with grace. His is the love overflowing with sustenance.

When the stomach is empty, the heart is ready to receive. When the flesh is neglected, the spirit is ready to listen.

I want to be fed, not with food but with faith—a faith that’s been shaken in the last twenty-four hours. What a difference a day makes. Yesterday’s 4:58 was filled with breadsticks and baked ziti. Today’s 4:58 is filled with something greater.

My need. My hunger. My reminder to reach forward. My letting go of something in order to take hold of Someone.

Morning will surely come, and I will break my fast. But until then, I’ll mark the hours with Jesus, and I’ll notice my hunger. And I’ll remember why I need Him so very, very much.

Life will never make sense without Jesus. Maybe next time, I’ll notice my hunger sooner.

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catching words… catching hearts

“What’s this about? Forgive me if I’m prying, but you tossed it out there, and I caught it.”

This was her response to me in an e-mail after I left a comment to one of her recent blog posts. It doesn’t much matter the content of my original comment; what matters is her response… her willingness to catch my words. In doing so, she caught my heart. What a good friend! What a good gift!

Most of us live our lives out loud in this cyber-community, putting our thoughts on display for others to digest. We do so intentionally; we mean for people to read our words and, ultimately, to understand them in accordance with our intentions. There’s a whole lot of room for interpretation when it comes to the “speak” we use in social media; consequently, we’re often misunderstood. But of this I am certain…

We want someone to try, someone to sit long enough with our thoughts so that we might move beyond the front door of our hearts and stay connected to this great big world.

I am grateful for those of you who catch my words, who read between, behind, and all around the words in order to take hold of my heart. It’s the best part of being here… of picking up the pen every now and again and saying what I mean, writing what I live. It may not always be what you want to hear, but it’s almost always what I need to say. Thank you for the grace afforded me along the way.

Like you, I want to be a word-catcher, a heart-catcher as well. Would you allow me to catch some of your heartfelt words this weekend? Go ahead… toss a few in my direction. What’s on your mind? How might I pray for you? As always…

Peace for the journey,
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a new year of learning…

And so … we begin again.

Quite a contrast to where we were standing a year ago. A year ago, our nerves were raw with anticipation and expectation for the beginning of a new academic year. New school; new teachers; new friends; new everything. Brother handled the transition better than sister. She couldn’t even eat her breakfast a year ago. Today? A big bowl of Cookie Crisp and smiles to go around.

What’s the difference? Why the shift from stress to relief, not just for our baby girl but for all of us on this beginning day of the school year?

One reason. The once “new and unfamiliar” feels more like “old and familiar.” Like habit. Like routine. Like safety. A previous year’s worth of education in a new school has earned our trust, and all of us are better prepared for the learning that is sure to take place in the upcoming year.

As my children enter into their 4th and 5th grade classrooms this morning, they do so with confidence. Alongside them, I re-enter my own classroom. I haven’t a clue what the curriculum will include this year, but I’m willing (like my children) to strap on my book bag, pack my lunch, and sharpen my pencils. Several years’ worth of education in the classroom of life has earned my trust, and my confidence rests solely on the Teacher behind the lectern. I pray not a minute wasted and for a teachable heart willing to receive and apply the instruction from the Father’s heart.

Old and familiar, yet new and necessary. Like habit. Like routine. Like safety.

Even so, Lord Jesus, I come to the classroom today. Show me your heart. Teach me your ways. Strengthen my frame. Lengthen my days. The curriculum belongs to you; the learning belongs to me. Humbly I submit my mind, heart, and soul into your loving tutelage. Amen.

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