My Holy Rubble

For the past four years, I've had this song in my heart. It's the song that would erupt when I sat in a puddle of defeat, splashing about, trying to find one ounce of hope in the mess. It holds the words that would crop up on my tongue when my spirit could only groan.

But I didn't know all the words. I just knew the first few,

Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty, God in Three Persons, Blessed Trinity.

And those weren't even in the correct order...I just knew, Holy Holy Holy is what my heart could muster when my head was blanketed in darkness. I didn't even think to look up the words, I just let them come forth and sprinkle some kind of partial comfort for my ears, maybe my heart.

During the singing, I'd think of Isaiah before the throne, with a red hot coal on his tongue. I'd think of the Cherubim and Seraphim and the unworthiness of a man and the great mercy of God Almighty. And I'd beg that God would stay close, even though I felt abandoned.

I'd remind myself, that even though He seemed absent, He had a hold of me beyond my comprehension. No matter how strapped to this earth I was, with this life I had sculpted for myself crumbling at my feet, there was something so much greater out there promising me more.

Even though I didn't feel it. Even if it was hard to believe.

While my flesh rebelled, and my tongue lashed out, my spirit still sang, Holy, Holy, Holy. My spirit still sings Holy, Holy, Holy, when any prayer falls bankrupt.

Today, I sang the song again, but not in the confines of my closet where I'd hide my crying fits. Today, I sang it with the words in front of me, words that I did not realize were part of it.

Holy, Holy, Holy
Though The Darkness Hide Thee
Though the Eyes of Sinful Man Thy Glory May Not See

Oh how my soul had sung those first three words over and over like a skipped rock that sank into the pool at the third skip...potential and momentum lost...sinking deep into darkness.

Would I have found comfort in knowing that darkness had the power to hide Him, and would I have fought harder to escape it when blinded from His Glory?

Could it have been God's plan all along, to allow me to sit in the darkness, void of the Glory I longed for, with only the rubble that had been my life surrounding me, in need of being sifted through so I could find a new path to Him? One that was untainted by my opinions and biases and walls...one that shone truer His Power, His Love, and His Purity?

The more distance I put between myself and the rubble of my darkest season, the deeper I go, the bigger He gets, and the Holy declarations become more my heart's song than ever before, even if darkness is there, and I know the words now--Holy is He, and my soul sings it regardless of my mind. I've been given the next glimpse into more, and I believe it's because this is the time that my heart can handle the next words...when my heart had battled and discovered the truth behind them.

Holy, holy, holy
Lord God almighty
Early in the morning my song shall rise to thee
Holy. holy, holy
Merciful and mighty
God in three persons, blessed Trinity

Holy, holy, holy
All the saints adore Thee
Casting down their golden crowns around the glassy sea
All the cherubim and seraphim are falling down before Thee
Which wert and art and evermore shalt be

Holy, holy, holy
Though the darkness hide Thee
Though the eyes of sinful man Thy glory may not see
Lord, only Thou art holy and there is none beside Thee
Perfect in power, in love and purity

And one day, I'll sing these with Truth abounding:

Holy, holy, holy
Lord God almighty
All Thy works shall praise Thy name in earth and sky and sea
Holy, holy, holy
Merciful and mighty
You are God in three persons, blessed Trinity
You are God in three persons, blessed Trinity
Oh, God in three persons, blessed Trinity

(Holy, Holy, Holy, by Donnie McClurkin)

It's All About The Heart: Verse Mapping

I cannot believe what I have just uncovered as I mapped a verse...or two, today. I started at Mark 4:33-34, and then ended with Isaiah 6:9... Can we say back to front? Well, funny enough, that's what I learned in my Bible Study today... Jesus literally turned words upside down to right everything upward.

Taking Scripture and translation for face value possibly gives us false doctrine. Digging deep and understanding the context, meaning, and language...that will reveal something huge! I am seeing how important it is to have educated,

wise instruction, as well as extensive resources to get to the "heart" of the matter.

Praising God in all His consistency and GLORY!
I may still have a thing or two to learn about verse mapping, but it has been such a blessing so far!

Aaah...in the words of Kristy Cambron, "MIND BLOWN!"

to learn more, go to: 

#VerseMapClub

Two Journeys, One Heart

I reflected on my life today. That's what happens when I get by myself and walk in nature. Well, nature today included a mowed soccer field and a dormant corn field in the heart of America...the great bread basket of the world.

But still.

God's breath was loud and moving--the leaves, the grass, the dried up corn stalks.

It seems that most of my memories consist of a walk. A trek of some sort. A journey. No matter how insignificant (although, I wonder at the significance seeing as how I remember the walks years later).

Like the walk I took along a curb with a friend named Zoey. It was a hot West Texas day, and we were ants on the concrete expanse of an Air Force base. She taught me that we could curse the devil with a certain finger, and not feel guilty one bit. Why does that stick out in my mind so much?

And then I think of the walk I took to school every day, clear on the other side of the world...through a quaint village nestled in the fields of East Anglia. Steps forward to a wooden gate that led to a path along the back of villager gardens, ending at the wide lawn sprawling from the little junior school of my youth.

Why do I remember that so much?

That time of my life was life. My eyes were opened to the beauty of literature, history, culture...and I had no idea at the time, but it was where the seed of a writer planted itself firmly in my soul. My heart opened wide as I read the stories upon pages of Enid Blyton, C.S. Lewis, and Roald Dahl, feeding and coloring the experiences of an American transplant in a world of old. I may have walked toward school and back home again, but really, I was walking toward a future that would not even meet my itching toes until twenty-eight years later.

There was a pretty coveted walk a few years later...one that I took several times over the course of high school. I found myself absorbing the life of characters upon a stage. I lost myself in the poetic verse of Shakespeare, the drama, passion, and rhythm of sixteenth century verse. How much my heart leapt with the emotion of my part. How odd to think back on those steps upon the stage and realize they were actual steps to my future...now just twenty years away.

But as with any good story, or worn journey, things do not find the future brimming and waiting unobstructed. And the heart gets in the way of that forward motion.
And I walked down the aisle...bashful and awkward, but hope-filled and assured in the love of a waiting heart at the altar.

And we walked toward a family--enduring the labor pains of a first child as we walked around a mall, stepped toward a future assured by each-other's security--walking around a neighborhood of our first house pushing our son and bursting with the new-found parental love--and ascending the steps of the church, to dedicate ourselves to the spiritual growth and guidance of our child...as we did with the next three children as well.

Every step moves toward something, doesn't it?

And while I was taking those steps, I thought I had a pretty good idea about what would meet me along the way.

And how wrong it was to think that I knew for certain.

I walked today, looking at my feet upon the path, remembering a most recent walk. One with my journal tucked beneath my arm, and my heart set on hearing God's voice. And I think I heard Him...and I reveled in His message to me. And I thought I knew. I thought I knew that this journey could only get better...but then everything stopped.

Who would have thought that from all the steps, the forward motion, my steps would dissolve in quick sand, and I'd not just take steps backward, but I would sink deep and low, finding myself in the darkest valley of my existence. My toes rested upon shards of broken dreams and expectations.

Even now, I can barely see the light. There is a crumb of my journey left...as I see those steps on British soil and upon the stage well up and create a story so close to my heart and so ingrained upon the pages of a novel, that I find hope there. I am not all lost.

And then, as I walked in a pitiful nature today...a manipulated one... I remembered the breath of God on my walk not long ago. It makes me wonder, if He really is still close to me...even in this darkness where the bramble of lies covers my ears and my heart?

I will keep walking. Hoping for that story--penned from the steps of a child to an adult, by the voices, literature, and art of those in history--to blossom on the paths of others' journeys pushing their hearts in steps of their own futures. This is my hope for my writing.

But mostly, I pray that the valley will not last much longer...that I will find a way out...that I will see God's hand once more, and He will pull me to the surface again. This is my hope for my heart.

A Brimming Heart vs. A Bulging Hamper

It's cold and rainy today. I've fixed breakfast for four children, sent one child to the middle school, two children to the elementary school, played with toys with the two year old, taught her A-B-C, sang songs, did some laundry, got dressed, ate lunch with my husband, and checked email, Facebook, blogs.

During all this, I've searched my heart of the bad until I seem to scrape its edges like cleaning out the inside of an egg worrying that the scouring will cause a break.
What happens when I clean it out, purge, sort through to find anything that needs fixing, and I am left with nothing but a hairline crack because I try too hard?
I've done a lot of soul-searching these past months. I've discovered who I was, who I am, and who I want to become. I've dedicated and rededicated myself as a mother, wife, friend, and writer.
And yet, nothing looks different on days like today.
Not in the middle of a cold and rainy day, when all that waits is more laundry, restless dogs, and a house that could use a good scrubbing.
All things I don't really want to deal with. Yet, things that need tending to.

But that hairline crack reminds me of the journey to a brighter future. Reminds me that there is more healing to do and I haven't arrived yet. No matter how much I re-stuff my heart with dreams and hopes, and desires to do amazing things, I am still on an imperfect journey with no quick fix for God's good timing.

What do I do with the day's monotony that appears more as quick sand than a solid path along this journey?

Perhaps I've adopted the lens of this culture. The glare burning success, independence, greed into my very soul. Perhaps my heart, no matter how much I clean it out, has taken the shape of prosperity and cannot handle the fact that the only thing that will prosper today is my bulging hamper.

Or...

Maybe...

There's something around the corner. Maybe these are birth pains to bring about something greater...or even something dreadful. When I think of it that way, I find the ability to be thankful in the monotony...for the boredom (I cringe as I hate that word)! When I have my eyes set above, knowing there is Someone mighty in control of what is ahead, then I find peace in the cold and rainy, dreary and dragging day.

It is a lie to think my heart is shaped like the idols of the world. I know better. The only prosperity mold for my heart is an everlasting one.

Ugh. It is so hard sometimes. And yet, it really is not that difficult. Because of all the millions of circumstances out there, I am blessed by mine even at this moment.

In the dreary, I can pray for those hurting, those sick, and those dying. And I don't just want to mutter, I want to call upon His Mighty Power to comfort and heal. Can this day be considered dreary at all?

In the rain, I can sing and dance with my little girl, even if it doesn't move my dream forward, even if it doesn't fill the dryer. But what better accompaniment to the rain?

Focusing on these things doesn't mean my dreams will be forgotten. They still rest in my heart ready to sprout by the sunshine of God's perfect timing. Focusing on these things doesn't mean I am ignoring the next dose of medicine needed to heal. Actually, couldn't these things bring about a great healing for my restlessness and doubt?

Wow. I thought pouring my heart out to my husband at lunch would help clear my mind and give me a chance to start fresh the rest of the day. Guess my heart wasn't done purging. As usual, writing is a salve, and I pray, that the hairline crack diminishes quickly.

My Not-So-Perfect Morning

"If you keep on biting and devouring eachother, you will be destroyed by eachother." Galatians 5:15

The Lord knows it is very rare for me to get myself out of bed before the kids and open His good book...so when I do, He is sure to get right to the point.

And as I found this Bible verse, I promised Him, I would do better at talking gently to my children, using my words wisely, showing the ultimate respect to my husband ESPECIALLY in front of my children...I would not allow us to be destroyed by sharp words and negative criticism.....

My crazy kids!

Ahhh, then they all woke up, and the clock was ticking, and the morning school rush swept us all up and got me all flustered. Especially since I have one jokester, one daydreamer, and one stubborn-as-a-mule-not-going-to-do-anything-but-curl-up-into-a-ball-and-hide-under-the-covers!!
My volume gets louder and louder and finally, I shout, "Why do you only listen to me when I raise my voice!?!"

Ugh! If I didn't know better, I would wallow in my defeat, throw in the towel, say, "God, I'm not good enough ever, I quit!".

But I do know better. God has been shaping my mother's heart for over nine years now, and He has constantly whispered, "Grace", and I remember that I am not good enough, I am always going to fall short, but yet, he bestows His Grace on me, and I am His, always!

So, I pay it forward, and give my off-task children a little grace-- I hug and kiss them, pray with them, and drop them off at school with smiles...and they display grace to Mama...they forget the struggle to get out the door, they giggle in the car, they return the hugs and kisses at drop off.

My heart may have undergone nine years of shaping, but in no way is it perfect yet...or will it be. In my Bible study, I am reminded that the definition of "perfect" is to be "complete, finished, goal accomplished". I will continue to allow God's shaping, but I know that only my first glimpse at those Heavenly gates will prove perfection.

So, Monday will come around, and I will try a little harder, equipped with a weekend of prayer, and scoot those kids out the door with a little less strife, and a little more grace. I'll maintain my tongue as best as I can, and will avoid the destruction, equipped with the advice as explained in Galatians 5:16,
 "live by the Spirit." Thank you, God, for that!

A Telling Heart Ache

It's cloudy, cold, rainy, and windy today. I'm not really sad about it, since I had to stay home with a sick child anyway. This change in weather puts me in a cozy mood...I long for a family night where we snuggle on the couch, eat homemade pizza, watch a movie, all with a fire in the fireplace. Actually, it has been my plan all day, and we will probably stick to it...the only think that bums me out, is my 8 year old's quick "hi and goodbye" when I came to his school. He and a friend planned a sleepover. Usually, this is fine, and I love saying yes to him, because he absolutely loves to be social.
 But I already miss him! 
The end of the week feels like a time for our family to come together and reconnect...I don't know why, because we've nixed all our evening activities, so we've had plenty of time time together. Maybe it's those apron strings hanging on by a thread?

Whatever it is, I am sure I'll get over it soon.

 Sometimes I think my heart aches like this for the small things, so I'll treasure the time in preparation for the big things.