(“But now, O Lord, Thou art our Father; we are the clay, and Thou our potter; and we all are the work of Thy hand.” Isaiah 64:8)

 One of my little sisters, Susanna, gave me a very large mug for my tea that reads, “I smile because you’re my sister.  I laugh because there is nothing you can do about it.”  I love it!  Not just because it embodies the hilarious dynamic of our relationship, but also because of its capacity to hold a very large quantity of my stevia sweetened, mango passion tea.  On a cold autumn day, I pass over every other mug in the cupboard for that one.  I savor the flavor with my slice of pumpkin chocolate chip bread and cream cheese.  When the fierce cold of winter imprisons us with the alluring scent of ginger and clove from fresh gingerbread, my heart turns back towards the cupboard and once again I choose that mug to load with tea or homemade hot chocolate.  When spring is first birthing, and she has her fits of damp cold, I fill it and allow its warmth to hold the promise of coming balmy weather.

But there is a strange dynamic that it invokes in my home.  My children plead for it, and when I say “no,” their eyes fill with envy.  There are many other fun mugs in my cupboard, but none of them are as desired as the one I got from Susanna. 

Vessels, containers – whether pails and buckets, vases or jars, mugs or tumblers – are important.  The quality of their materials, and the capacity of their size, define what they can be used for, what they will be successful at.

Over the past few years of massive upheaval and change as a family I have often bewailed my lack of capacity.  I felt my world, our world, shrink.  This was not the direction I ever saw it going in…for wasn’t the need greater than you or I could fathom?  It seemed that we should be enlarging our sphere of influence and our ability to minister to those around us.  It seemed wrong, nay, even sinful, to be doing less than more.

It wasn’t time, in my book, to trade in my big mug for a small teacup.  There were many thirsty for the Living Waters, and with a teacup I feared I wouldn’t have much to share.

I was bewailing my plight with my husband one day, and he wisely responded with, “Why do we always think our capacity is so much bigger than what the Lord thinks?  Why don’t we just humbly accept the fact that He has formed and fashioned us for His purposes? That perhaps He knows best what stewardship we are capable of?”

Up till that point I had not been able to see the demon of pride lurking behind my good intentions.  I had defined my discontent by a desire to do more for my Heavenly Father.  But in all reality, I was in rebellion.  My dissatisfaction with how small my cup – my capacity – had become, was nothing more than me rejecting the stewardship I had been trusted with…and no matter how small or insignificant it seemed, I had been trusted with something.

My focus ought to have been on how best to serve Him with what I had been given.  To embrace it humbly, joyfully – and to pour my whole heart and soul into cultivating it for the glory of Christ.  In doing this, not only is nothing wasted, but the quality of my vessel is enhanced.

I become fit for the Master’s use.  I exchange my grand and glorious ideas of what I want to be, and embrace serving at the pleasure of my King.

If I am lost in the back of the cupboard, robed in shame because I cannot compare to the big glorious mug that can hold three or four times what I can, I may be passed over when I am needed most.  If my heart is so set on carrying buckets of water to the thirsty masses, that I miss the opportunity to hold nourishment for a soul that He is trysting with over a cup of tea, it is to my eternal shame.

There is such peace in letting the Potter define what I am.  Of shedding the expectations of others, or of myself, and looking only to the One that formed me for my boundaries and definition.  To swell with anticipation of all that He will do in and through me no matter my size… for there are places that only a teacup can go, jobs that only a teacup is suited for.

Let me glory, Father, not in my own ability or capacity to bless, but in the smile of Your countenance when I have allowed Your Son to have His way with me!

The year yawns to a close, and another stretches into being.  Out on a quiet hillside, un-harried by galas and parties, undistracted by lists of resolutions infused with the best of intentions, stands a solitary figure.  The Shepherd.  He is doing what He always does as though time has not moved at all – as if He has all the time in eternity – He tends His sheep.

There is confidence in the way He handles His rod and His staff that makes one feel safe just to gaze upon Him.  Soft compassion glints in the milk-white purity of His eyes.  He has no need to prove His love or loyalties for He has already paid the ultimate price for the sheep of His flock.  What’s more, He will lose none of them when He stands before His Father one day.  He knows each ram, each ewe and lamb by name and has individual dreams for them.  Visions and plans that reach across the time barrier of what we know into all the eternal that we don’t know… thoughts to bring them to a beautiful place of peace and hope, a fulfilling expected end that is not chained to time (Jer. 29:11).

He intends to take them to the High Places.  A region where they can drink in the pure air of obedience and be healed along the still waters and nourished by the rich grasslands.  They will be well there, their very souls will be restored because of all He purchased for them on an old rugged cross.  He has born their griefs, carried their sorrows, endured their shame, suffered for their sin – there is nothing that stands between Him and them now (Isaiah 53:4-6).

But there is quite the journey between here and there.  The Good Shepherd knows every stretch of it intimately – for He has already traversed every nook and crevice.  He always goes ahead, marking the places of danger, removing noxious plants that would be poisonous, looking for signs of predators, and mapping out places of refreshment.  He has anticipated the needs, the dangers; He has hand-picked the best path and has made every provision necessary to get them safely there.

He knows how they will chafe at the rocky passages – how terrified they will be if a sudden storm sweeps down on them from the mountains.  He knows how they will spook in the valley, and it will be difficult to get them to rest in its dark shadows.

But He goes with them.  There is not one uncomfortable place, one difficult or painful thing that He will ask of them, that He will not also submit Himself to in order to get them safely through the other side.  He will be their Sun when the gloom presses in, their Shield and Defense against any predator, their Comfort and Pavilion in the storm, their Healing Balm in pain and sickness.  There is nothing that He and His Father will not do to bring them safely home.

He looks fondly upon His flock, knowing which ones will struggle most at different points in the journey.  “Oh, ye of little faith…” the wind carries His gentle whisper.  Why do they ever fear?  Why do they ever fight or struggle so – for it is not their responsibility to ensure their safe and successful passage – but His.  It is not their duty to bring His Father’s will to pass.  All they need to do is follow, to stay near and dear to His heart.  To listen for His voice in obedience and anticipate His goodness and mercy all the days of their life.

This is where I want to be.  I am weary and tired of questions with no answers, overwhelming circumstances with no clear way out.  It is not my job to ensure my safe arrival or provide for my needs.  I simply want to rest in His bosom and live each day as an overflow of sweet worship, delighting in His presence and doing His will today – leaving tomorrow with Him.  And when pain and distress push in I want to lean back into the blessed truth that I have nothing to fear, my Shepherd is with me and has only taken me this way because it is the best way to reach the High Places.  “…for I know Whom I have believed, and am persuaded that He is able to keep that which I have committed unto Him against that day.” (II Tim. 1:12)  I have not fallen out from under His loving eyes – I am not out of reach of His daily mercy and lovingkindness.  I am safe, I am whole in Him, and I have everything I need to do His will today.

So here is a cheer to a new year, a different kind of year – a year of absolute abandon and wild surrender – a year of worship and rest.

In our family we love baking.  Therefore, having to go gluten-free was quite the life crisis for me.  I don’t really care for the taste of most store-available items, and I care even less for the price!  So, it’s been years of epic failure followed by trying again – but I think this is a gingerbread cookie even a non gluten-free eater can enjoy!

Baking:

Preheat oven to 375 degrees
1 1/4 cup Bob’s Red Mills GF oat flour
1 cup millet flour
1/4 cup white rice or tapioca flour
1 1/2 tsp xanthum gum
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp ginger powder
1/2 tsp ground cloves
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
Blend these dry ingredients together and set aside.
In a separate mixing bowl –
1/2 cup butter – beat thoroughly.  Then add:
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 cup molasses
1 egg
1 tbsp vinegar (I use Apple Cider Vinegar)
After blending those thoroughly, add the dry mix to it and blend well.
Chill in the refrigerator for a minimum of three hours.
Roll on a lightly floured surface (I use tapioca or white rice flour to roll.  If the dough is still a bit sticky no worries – just sprinkle some flour across the top of the dough as well as your surface before rolling it out – it will work like a charm!).
Cut into desired shapes and place on a parchment lined cookie sheet.
Bake 8-10 minutes (depending on how thick you rolled it.  Personally, I like thicker, so I habitually roll my dough closer to a 1/4 inch thick so usually 10 minutes does the trick;-).
Let the cookies cool on the baking sheet for 5 minutes before transferring them to the wire racks for cooling.

Decorating:

The key to a perfect gingerbread cookie is the frosting and toppings.  The jelly beans I use are YUMEARTH’s organic sour beans.  I find them fairly cheap online at Lucky Vitamin, but I’m pretty sure the health section of your local health food store or grocery store would most likely carry them at this time of year 🙂

For the frosting, I use my mom’s Vanilla Butter Frosting recipe:
1/2 cup soft butter beaten till soft or creamy.  Then add:
4 1/2 cups powdered sugar
2 1/4 tsp vanilla
3 tbsp of milk
If it is a little stiff, add a smidgen more milk until you have the consistency you want.  You do not want this too runny – you want it to be moldable though for going in the frosting tubes for decorating 😉

Have fun!!!!

Psalms 42:11 “Why art thou cast down, O my soul? And why art thou disquieted within me? Hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise Him, who is the health of my countenance, and my God.”

Sunflowers…Their big, beautiful, bold heads that always turn towards the sun… Their obsession with the light that spills into the very color of their petals… They are my promise from my Abba, Father in the valley of the shadow.  They were His token of comfort to me – that if I would simply keep holding my face up to His light He would lead me safely through.  I stepped into that promise, letting everything else that was overwhelming and terrifying around me fade to the background, and I fixed my eyes on Him.

That was three years ago.  I am no longer bedridden most days, and I have more energy, less pain and muscle spasms, and more clarity in my thinking.  I can walk with some sense of balance and coordination and my speech is no longer slurred.  Yet, I still work with a very compromised body and my world is very small.  The road back to restoration has been evasive at times.

The other day I was going through another difficult flair up.  My husband had stopped on his way home to get some groceries for me (since I wasn’t going to be doing the grocery shopping).  When he arrived he had a huge, beautiful bouquet of sunflowers for me.  How my heart drank them in!  You see, this year we were renting and so I had not been able to plant any in the yard.  I was delighted!  While I busied myself getting them in water, my husband said, “I was on my way out of the store when I passed by these bouquets.  The Lord prompted me to get some for you and to tell you that He has not forgotten you…That you are still His special girl.”

I cried, and I took courage again.  The way is not easy – but one of the first, surest, truest, deepest lessons I have had burned into my soul over the past three years is that I must keep looking towards the Light. The fears, the anxieties, the despair, the anger, the bitterness, the resentment, the false guilt, the shame…it must give way to the Son.  These emotions, even though they may have a very valid reason, need to fall by the wayside.

I am innately broken.  I was born with a soul that was fractured by sin.  And every single thing that touches my life is a but an avenue through which my Saviour seeks me out to restore my soul to Himself.  It is a quiet work, a gentle work – but a critical work if I am ever to truly heal.  When I yield to Him and surrender myself to His internal work He cleanses my wounds and becomes the Balm of Gilead to my aching heart.  He does not just mend the places that are obvious to me, but with the tenderness of a Gardener, sets about to heal the places I did not even know about.  He does not forsake me no matter how long or messy the process is.  He speaks softly over me; words of comfort, peace, and healing.  And He is committed to taking as long as it takes for me to be truly well and strong.  By then, I will have grown such a love for Him, such a dependence on His presence, such an eager delight in His voice, that I will ever after seek to stay close to His side.

Too often being well robs us of the stillness to even hear His voice. Too often pain and suffering distracts us from the deeper work of being healed within.  We want to be better – to get on with life.  We fight and chafe and strain against our current circumstances.  Worry, fear, anxiety, stress and a thousand other emotions weigh us down. There are many things the sunflower could worry about – whether or not the soil is right, or if there has been enough rain, or if her root system is adequately transforming the energy of the sun into something useable, or whether the temperature will be right or not, or the birds picking her seeds prematurely – and the list goes on.  But she is unconcerned about all of that.  Every day she is bent on one thing, and one thing only – to find the sun – and then she spends the rest of her day glorying in His presence.  Although far from perfect at this, I have set my heart to learn this simple lesson.

1. I take time to be still.  Even in the turbulence, we must choose to still our soul, and to tryst with Him at the fountain of living waters.  Pain and suffering have a way of agitating us; of stirring up an irritability in the soul because there is no “safe place” to simply unwind and forget.  This is the idea of distress and perplexities – they push in upon us and rob us of the sense of comfort and security.  Sometimes in our trial, we seek to be busy and surround ourselves with noise because it frightens us to face reality.  It is not a pleasant thing to feel one’s helplessness, to be alone with overwhelming odds and questions that have no answers.  But it is in stillness that we are assured that He is God.  It is where His still small voice speaks – where He cleanses our wounds and heals our diseases.  If we are to heal, we must embrace this process with joy, to let His peace in and relax back into His love.  To let His calm, His declared heart to us, enter our mind and soul and do its work of renewing our mind.
2. I take the time to relax with a cup of tea, and remember… The way He carried me when I was too weak to go on myself… The way He encouraged my heart when the way seemed too steep… The way He provided exactly what we needed when the time was right… The way He protected me even when I didn’t know I was in danger… The way He spoke peace, love, healing, and restoration to my broken and undeserving soul. And in the remembering, I find the courage to hope.
3. I choose intentionally, to fix my gaze on Him no matter what the day may bring forth. I look up into His countenance that is filled with delight over me.  I glory in the joy written there – knowing that He too despised shame for a season as well.  I am swept with awe over the compassion etched in His expression, knowing that it is born out of the fact that He too was made perfect through suffering.  Looking up and beholding the Son breathes peace over me.
4. And when I feel the pressure mounting, and my head feels too heavy to look up, I look back and trace His goodness and promises throughout the ages and to me personally. I know, He has not forgotten me.  He has carved my name in His hands and etched it upon His heart.  He is the Balm of Gilead, and His expressed desire is to restore my soul with no qualifiers or conditions.  I rejoice today in all that He is and find that praise gives me wings to fly above my trials.

Dear one, are you sick? Weighted down with infirmities and distresses? Beset behind and before with circumstances beyond your scope of endurance?  Are you pressed beyond measure?  It’s okay.  You are safe in His everlasting love.  It is simply time to look up, and discover that hope, peace, and praise are powerful healers.

Kalli – shouting through the bathroom door (because mothers have absolutely no personal space or boundaries.  All of my offspring seem pretty convinced that I always want to hear what they have to say at the exact moment they want to share it with me…whatever that moment looks like.  Praise the Lord for locks on the strategic doors of the house…) – “Mom!  Dad’s home and we are going to have rice cakes and peanut butter and jelly for lunch!!!” (exclamations are insufficient to truly communicate her level of enthusiasm)

Me: “Ok – tell Dad that there is also beans, salsa, corn chips, sausage, and cheese if he wants.”

A moment of silence… I thought she had scampered off.

Kalli: “Um, Mom?”

Me: “Yes?”

Kalli: “I’m pretty sure that’s not gonna happen…because I already forgot.”

“For we are unto God a sweet savour of Christ, in them that are saved and in them that perish:” II Cor. 2:15

I was blessed to grow up in a Bible-believing home and church.  From very small, God’s perspective of the world shaped how I saw and interpreted much that was around me.  I saw the clear, distinct lines between the God of Light and the god of this world.

I watched those bound in the shackles of sin – slaves to their lusts and desires – joined to a master that delighted in pillaging them.  There was no end to satan’s ill intent towards them.  Whether they worshipped him or themselves, his desire was always the same – to kill, steal, and destroy.  I saw that the way of the transgressor was truly hard as they fought against the claims of their Creator upon their lives.

On the other hand, I saw that Christ was Love Himself, and that those that followed Him were blessed above all people.  They served a King Who wanted to give them LIFE, and life more abundantly.  The paths of obedience were not there to control or micromanage my life into some colorless existence – they were there to protect me from the enemy of my soul, to lead me to His presence where there is fullness of joy, and to seat me in safety forever at His right hand where there are pleasure forevermore.  The blessing of the Lord made His people rich and there was no sorrow added to it.  They were satisfied and abounding and there was no horrendous price tag waiting to be collected.  Christ, had already paid every outstanding debt against my soul.  Christ, had chosen to make me a partaker in His inheritance.  Christ, had already endeared me to the Father, and if the Father had given me Christ, He would also – with Him – freely give me all things.

And so I built a life around the paths of blessing.  I felt as if I would always be surrounded by an invisible, invincible shield – that my life was hidden away in Christ and I had no fear of anything.

I followed my Good Shepherd and poured my life out into His work.  I loved Him.  I trusted Him.  When my common sense screamed “no,” and my heart buckled in fear, I still submitted and went with Him, faithfully – although at times flinchingly – following Him.  I knew I was safest, happiest, securest with Him.

But life still happened.  And life hurt.  And I was crushed.

You see, I knew that the way of the transgressor was hard.  Always.  Even when they came back to Christ there were deep scars, regrets, consequences, and baggage that continued to dodge their steps.  I grieved for them as I helped them pick up the pieces that their rebellion had shattered all over the place.  While I wept over their broken heart I prayed that the Lord would keep my heart, that I would be spared their pain.

And I purposed that however unpopular, I would stick with Christ.  I knew the gainsayers would mock and the rebel would scoff at me, but I didn’t care.  I wanted to spend my life wrapped in the beauty of His presence, growing to be more and more like Him.  No regrets, no sorrows – just grace for grace, glory for glory.

But what I had never considered, was that the way could be hard here too.

It wasn’t hard in the same way… satan didn’t have authority in my life because I had not yielded my members to him…but it seemed that the Father gave him a season and a time to trouble and sift me and it felt like I was being given to the will of my enemy.

I tasted sorrow and loss… rejection, persecution, death, destruction, grief, infirmities… But I continued to follow the Man of Sorrows Who was well acquainted with the painful throb in my heart.

I descended into valleys where I was far from rich – where it appeared to me that the devourer was turned loose and the windows of Heaven were bolted shut.  I cried out, “Why, Father?  I have brought your tithe into the storehouse and given again and again to Your people and the poor and needy.”  I knew He was The Giver of every good and perfect gift… and yet my lap was empty and its emptiness mocked me.

I walked fearlessly behind my Shield and Protector into battle – only to be beaten and bruised and wounded and so weak that I was unable to even drag myself to safety.  I looked up into the night sky that reminded me of a Love more expansive, and promises more numerous than the stars above me – and cried “Where did I go wrong?”  How had this happened to me?  How was I ever to live life with the same fearless confidence I had before?

For I feared life now.  Feared its twists and turns.  Feared the fleeting breath of those that made my world beautiful.  Feared the places of loss and deprivation.  Feared the cruel pressure of distress and the chokehold of need.  Feared the pain of lies and persecution and how they could make my inner oasis a place of chaos and turmoil.  Feared the grip of pain and illness that made my body feel like a torture chamber.  Feared the unknown lying ahead and the thousands of things that I could not control and had no word of promise that would allay the pain I had – and might still have – to walk through.

My childlike innocence that life would be perfect on the path of blessing was gone.  My confidence that life would not hurt, as long as I was in my Saviour’s presence, shattered.

I had broken pieces.  The pain that fractured faith…The fear and hurt and offense that sprang up in all the cracks and crevices of my inner man…all of it was ugly to look upon.  All of it exposed the self-love that had been lurking underneath, hiding behind my sincere adoration for the God of Light.

And in the revelation of how small and selfish I really was, it also exposed the magnificence of my Saviour.  He chose to walk into these places – not because He was forced to or because it was the better of two options or because it didn’t hurt Him – He went there intentionally to do the will of His Father.  He went to find the lost sheep and broken souls that were lurking there so He could bring them home.

And why did I ever think, that in following Him, I would avoid walking in the places He walked?  As He was, so was I to be in this world.

Life wasn’t about what I wanted – about my comfort and happiness and secure little bubble – it never had been about me.  It was about me being the essence of Christ in EVERY place.  It is about me carrying on His work by the power of the Holy Spirit.

It is about me dying, and about Him living.  Because the world doesn’t need me – they need Him.

Time is fleeting, and yet we all stand on the precipice of decision.  We have one opportunity to live this gift called life – here.  We have forever to live it  – over there.  One day our souls will cross the Jordan and we will enter Homeland.  There, everything will be as He intended it should be…full of beauty and joy…free of suffering, sorrow, and pain. But for now, we live in an imperfect world and we will suffer.  The question is, will I suffer alone in a self-inflicted alienation from the God Who loves me?  Will I suffer because I have spurned the call of my Creator back to Himself?  I am not referring simply to salvation, but also to the child of God that is at war with His claims upon every aspect of their life.  He is calling us to lay aside the filth of the flesh and our desire for the things of this life and to step into fellowship and harmony with Him.  Is that where my contention will be?  Will I spend this fleeting life reminding God of what I think is His and what is still mine?

Or will I suffer as I follow Him and do the will of my Father?

The suffering in this life is universal.  It is because of sin and affects the very ecosystem we are surrounded by as well as the animal kingdom.  It affects man, whether saved or unsaved.  What makes such a radical difference between the rebel and the follower is not the ease of the pathway or the absence of suffering.  The difference is found in their fragrance.

The one grows more shallow and odious with time – like spoil and decay – and dissipates completely with death.  The other?  It produces light…from its tears and struggle springs life.  It is like the clean scent after a thunderstorm, the aroma of crushed wheat baking into bread, the fruity smell of the pruned branch now heavy with fruit, the fragrance released from fragile petals when pressed beyond measure.  It is rich with meaning and blesses our spirits and refreshes our weary souls.  We find strength where others faint, beauty among the ashes, peace in the midst of turmoil, and joy through our tears.

And we find that no suffering was in vain, for as we followed our Saviour –
He enabled our naturally barren places to produce eternal fruit
He was with us through every terrain we traversed
He healed us and restored our soul during our journey
He worked all things together for our good

I want to run after Him…to keep the joy of all that He has planned and prepared for a sinner saved by grace always in my sights.  To let Him make all that He desires to, all that He deserves to, out of this one earthly pilgrimage of mine.  I want to follow Him faithfully, into every place He wants me to go and watch with wonder as He does His eternal work.  It is my one glorious opportunity to be poured out like a sweet smelling fragrance before Him.  And one day, I will step over the river into our Long Home…and He will wipe away every tear from my eye and every scar and every sorrow…forever.

Hadessah – or Dessi Joy as she is affectionately called – has always been our reigning princess.  It has been almost nine years since she entered the world and it has been everything BUT a walk in the park since she did.  Her short life has seen so many hardships and changes – yet her princess streak still emerges and gives us a good laugh every once in a while 😉

Today was another such day.  I was helping her with a few things and she was entertaining me with her prattle.  The conversation went something like this…

“Mom, it would be SO cool to have a waterfall for a shower…you could just walk under it and be all warm and clean…”

Me: “Yes, that would be nice and relaxing.”

Dessi: “And expensive.” Pause for introspection.  “That’s the problem!  Everything I want for a house, a room, a yard – it’s ALL too expensive!!”

This was quite the moment of revelation for her.  I let her enjoy it a moment longer before saying, “Yes – but we can have a home that is efficient and cozy and versatile and can be quite happy.”

Dessi: “Cozy – yes! But I want tons of space and sunlight!!”

Me: “Yes, lots of sunlight for sure – but who wants to mop and vacuum that much floor space?! :-)”

Dessi – looks at me half sheepish, half pouty, “But – that’s why I want servants.”

Yes, my dear daughter – your tastes are definitely too expensive 🙂

Any of you ladies raising millionaire sons????

Daddy had a project he was working on at Grandpoppy and Grandmommy’s house.  

 

Kalli thought that two sets of eyes and hands might help make the job go faster…hee hee!

At least it made the job sweeter ;-p 

 

 

There are journeys that we never willingly sign up for.

Toxic mold, sick building syndrome, Chronic Inflammatory Response Syndrome (CIRS)… These are some of the unexpected events that side swiped our family and decimated our health.

Being the over-achiever that I am (;-p), I was hit the worst of all of us.  Over the course of just three or four months, I went from an energetic, vibrant thirty-three-year-old, to a bedridden invalid.  I would watch my three-year-old baby play next to me on the bed and wondered if I would live to see her grow up.  I would breathe through the weakness and shaking, the excruciating pain and muscle spasms, and tell myself that it was okay – that this too would one-day pass.

When I drug myself out of bed to go get a little food or use the restroom I would pause, and look out the window of my bedroom that framed the backyard. I had a mammoth sunflower growing there, and I was fascinated with the way that she would bob her huge head in response to the shaft of sunlight smiling down upon her… And I took it as a promise from my Father that He would be with me each step of the way and that life would go on, and that life would be good.

Praise the Lord for Doctors that diagnosed me properly!  It did not take away the carnage, but it gave us the right direction to walk.  We wrestled through bank loans for remediation, the loss of most of our things, being homeless for nine to ten months, massive amounts of work with broken bodies, financial ruin, and the terrible repercussions of a family of five being systemically poisoned. Although we fought valiantly, my world shrunk and my life changed and I would wake up wondering how on earth I ever got to this place…struggling to remember who I even was anymore.  I became:

• The socialite turned into a shut-in
• The strong riddled with an invasive weakness at my chore
• The adventurer marooned within the walls of her own home
• The fruitful wife singing the plaintiff tones of the barren
• The fun-loving, hardy mother reduced to a fragile piece of china
• The hostess and homemaker that had to struggle through incredible pain simply to do the basics

There is so much more that could be said, but suffice it to say that it was the lowest, darkest place I had ever been in and everything that I knew was not sufficient for this storm.  So, while weak and living in a state of total chaos, I had to learn.  Learn to live with broken pieces.  Learn to have a meaningful life when life was completely unrecognizable.  Learn from the Lord how to heal from the inside out.  Learn from my doctors how to heal our bodies.  Learn, learn, learn…

I am not a medical professional. I am simply a mother who wants the best for her babies, a wife that wants her husband able to soar with strength into his life calling, a woman who wants to live the healthiest life she possibly can with what she has been given.  Nothing I share in these posts is meant to treat or diagnose any other person.  But I know that many are suffering…and if my story can encourage or help you on your journey in any way… I would be so honored to be part of that!

So, come along with me as I learn and experiment and discover and heal – because with God – all things are possible!!

(John 15:1-8)

I am humbled by this statement, “…and every branch that beareth fruit, He purgeth it, that it may bring forth more fruit.”

Help me, Abba Father, never to despise Your “every.” Was there fruit?  Was there hope?  Was there right desires? Was there beauty and a heart yearning for You and a faith that my life could be poured out for Your glory?  Then I must be purged.  For it is every fruit producing and sustaining bough that must know the cut of the Husbandman’s sheers.

Do not tremble, heart of mine, at the pain that comes with the cut.  Would I circumvent His purposes or thwart the beauty of His ways?  My Father knows best…and desires to give far more than I can even imagine for myself.  This may hurt for a time, but lay still in His hands and draw deep into the Vine and find all the healing and strength you will ever need.  He is able to work on my behalf.  He is able to perfect that which concerns me.  Fret not at the process; chafe not at His way.  It will be a complete work, it will be a beautiful work, it will be an abundant work.

Let the wind play with your leaves and the sunshine of His presence caress your face.  Enjoy the close communion of the Vine and know that He is doing all things well.  Trust Him, to complete what He has begun in you. Rest in Him, that all is working together for your good.  Anticipate the joy that is set before You, as You allow the Vine and Husbandman to have their unhindered way with you.

Do not pity me dear Christian, beloved family members, loving friends…who’s hearts ache with mine as I suffer the blow, the pain, the loss.  Do not let your spirit be troubled as you watch my productivity come to an apparent end and my present usefulness disappear like a wisp of smoke into the air.  It is not some terrible tragedy, some twist of fate, that is beyond the eye of my Master.  It is not some strange thing that holds me in its grasp – rather – it is nothing less than the kind eye and expert hand of He Who loves me and desires to develop me to my full potential.  It is not the destroyer’s hand that does this – it is not his will that prevails against me.  No…it is the eternal work of my precious Father that holds me fast and delivers the rending…He is not harming me, but rather preparing me to hold the abundant LIFE that will flow from His beloved Vine through me.  He is strengthening me, so that I might bear to His eternal glory, much fruit.