Dernhelm's Realm

Alone?

2011-11-06T10:59:00.000-08:00

I'm used to being alone. Most of the time it's just me and my four children. Five days a week from 8 till 5.30 my husband is at work, so I'm very accustomed to the four walls, four children and little else, but I'm okay with that, after 14 years, it's normal! So, could I possibly feel any lonelier? Yes.

I'm the sort of person that will avoid going to the Dr's, I virtually have to be dragged there. I am very frightened of hospitals, and go to pieces when it comes to blood, operations and the like. I've been grateful that I've only been in hospital four times in my entire life. But each time was for the birth of my children, and obviously I wasn't ill! However, all four were born by Cesarean (which being major abdominal surgery means it is rather traumatic!) but God says children are a gift from Him, a blessing (oh there are plenty of obnoxious children around, but I put that down to obnoxious parents!) so although I was having major surgery each time, at the end of it I was getting something wonderful, a treasure.

In stark contrast, after spending a nightmarish few hours in the accident and emergency department of our local hospital, to be then wheeled down dark, eery corridors, suffering from abdominal pain and not knowing why and then hearing talk of a possible operation to remove my appendix, well unsurprisingly my fear began to increase as the uncertainty of what was going to happen and what was wrong with me became apparent.

Suddenly I felt utterly alone. But as my panic grew, thoughts seeped into my mind.

God has been down this spooky looking corridor ahead of you.

He's seen the beginning of your life all the way through to the end, He knew this day was coming.

He already knows what's causing the pain, infact He has allowed it

He's with you, He's not deserted you and never will.

Don't fret, you're loved and not alone.

And so the choice was obvious, do I look only at what my eyes can see, or do I trust Him Who sees all things, knows all things, and loves me with a love that I can scarcely comprehend.

For me all turned out well, tests and scans were clear, and everything was normal, no answer to what was causing the pain was found and eventually I was allowed to go home. But that doesn't always happen, things can and do turn horrible for people. Death at some point comes to us all.

Could I still say God is good if I were still in the hospital right now, perhaps seriously ill, on the brink of death. Can I only be 'happy' because it all turned out okay, so 'praise the lord'? No. God really does see all, and we see so little with our human eyes. If I can trust Him for my life after my death, surely I can trust Him with my life now. Both take a leap of faith, complete abandon to Him, and a child-like trust that He knows what He's doing.

But that's what walking with Him is about surely. This faith that we profess to have in God, must be tested, must be moved from simply head knowledge, so that you are almost stepping out on what looks like thin air. For when you do step of a cliff edge, in what looks to other like a wild, foolish faith, and find your feet on a solid ground, you end up coming out the other side of a trial with your heart more knitted to His. He doesn't come closer to you, He's already one with you, but your 'trust' gets stronger, and that's all he really wants - all he requires is that we believe Him.

I'm 'alone' again today - just me and the children and God. One day it will be even less than that. At the minute we can all say - it's me and my 'ministry', me and my 'gift', me and my 'knowledge', me and 'what Ive sacrificed', me and 'what I do for the lord''. Me and, me and, me and...oh it's nauseating. Mercifully when we see Him face to face all that fluff that we use to gain our identity, our worth from, will be gone, I don't believe He's as interested in those things as we assume - what we can do or give up for Him. He's interested in us, as His dear children, just like I am interested in my children because they are mine, not what they can do for me.

One day it won't be me and my 'crutches' that give me worth and make me feel pleasing in His sight. It will just be me and Him. And actually I have that right now, whether I'm in a crowded room, or if it's just me and my children, or sitting somewhere in a cold, hospital corridor, ultimately it's just me and Him.

A dear lady shared the following verse on facebook earlier in the week, it echoed so clearly the thoughts that God so obviously placed in my mind whilst in hospital, I smiled and wept a little at the comforting words. Looking at this verse through the lens of the cross, we actually have it far better than those Israelites did when they heard those words. The truth is greater, more astounding for us, this side of the cross. God is not some entity that floats around in front of me, a pillar of fire by day, a cloud by night. He's not just a friend at my side, or even a book on a shelf. He is not just with me, He is one with me (1 Cor. 6:17), I am never, ever alone.

The LORD is the one who goes ahead of you; He will be with you. He will not fail you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed. Deuteronomy 31:8

Two Worlds

2011-09-26T08:45:00.001-07:00

Ah, Two Worlds, it sounds like a book title doesn't it? One day I shall write the story to it!

What I really came to write about here though is the fact that of late my mind is full of thoughts. They run around my brain like happy children, giggling with delight that I can't quite catch them and make them sit still. Nonetheless, two of these rascals I have managed to catch, or perhaps they caught me? Today I shall talk of one of them, this child's name is Two Worlds.

I stumbled across some thoughts by a respected musician recently regarding reality that made me scrunch my nose up and frown. His thoughts sounded a bit weird, and as much as I like a good fantasy story, his thoughts on reality and what it is, seemed to step out of the clearly defined realm of fantasy and into my kitchen.

What is reality? Well, this is reality isn't it. Sitting here, tapping away at this laptop whilst my husband plays his new Halo game. A freshly lit candle dancing as prettily as she dare on the cupboard and a cup of tea sitting on my bookshelf, that's reality isn't it. My surroundings right now are reality, what I can touch, see and hear.

And yet, the greatest reality is beyond all those senses, for now at least. For, I can neither see Him, touch Him or hear Him. Yes, he speaks through His Word and declares Himself Maker of all things unashamedly through His creation, and yet to mankind in general He is not reality, He is not real to them.

The life that comes after death, and the habitation therein, well it's not somewhere I can google, I can't find it on a map, there are no buses to Heaven, but that place is real. This creates some interesting thinking, it almost hurts my brain the same way imagining how far space goes if you just keep travelling does. For everything that is real to me now, tangible and touchable will one day turn to dust, be broken or be snuffed out like my dancing candle. Every single thing that my senses are aware of will vanish and be no more. The only piece of reality that I know of right now that will endure and last forever is my spirit, my soul and I can't see that, or touch it and for all intents and purposes, it is as invisible to my unbelieving friends and family as their Creator is. Yes, you can look at my face, but you can't see my spirit.

To return to the thoughts that got me thinking along this line in the first place, the author said this about one of his songs regarding reality, "The song is about what is real and not real. What is permanent and what is not. How we really have two worlds – the one we live in that will end someday and the kingdom of heaven that will never end. “Reality is only an illusion of solidity and permanence. The hidden eternal world, which we think of as illusory and unreal is in fact the only solid ground.”

I have been mulling over these thoughts for several weeks now and still find them quite fascinating. The song in question is a reminder to not trust what we see. And isn't that what a walk of faith is, not trusting what you see to be a dire situation, not trusting that the future looks dim, not trusting the thoughts that say you're a lousy Christian, but believing you are a new creation because of Him and Him alone, not what you do, and finally trusting the Unseen, Who knows all things and works all things together for good to those who believe in Him.

I love how this musician writes 'The hidden eternal world is the only solid ground'. I know it sounds quite bizarre, especially if you're not a Believer and sometimes even if you are! But, upon death, everything stays put, nothing leaves this earth, nothing will join me, not even the fingers on this body that I'm using to type with right now. Only the unseen, my soul, my spirit. Only what is unseen down here will last forever, only the unseen is of infinite value, and only the hidden eternal world is solid ground. The time for faith is now, don't trust what you see, for there really are Two Worlds.

(This post is actually taken from the 24th September, 2010. How interesting it is to read my thoughts from twelve months ago, the road, indeed, goes ever on and on. Oh how we change and grow, the journey truly never ends - let us go further up and further in)

Walk By Rules?

2011-05-24T01:55:00.000-07:00

I shall add to this list of quotes as time goes on. I need a constant reminder that it is not by rules I live, but by faith - faith in the living God - that He is quite able to live in me, guide me and be all that I need.

I cannot bear the thought of returning to that dark, dusty room, where shackles were my only companion.

The liberating secret is truly liberating. If God Himself walks in the garden then there is no way I'm going back inside that house, nay prison.

An individual Christian may see fit to give up all sorts of things for special reasons – marriage, or meat, or beer, or cinema; but the moment he starts saying the things are bad in themselves, or looking down his nose at other people who do use them, he has taken the wrong turning. C.S. Lewis

Legalism is the improper emphasis on works in our relationship to God. It focuses on the manifestations of spirituality that can be measured by number, frequency, duration, amount, and so forth. No one has the authority to force upon themselves or anyone else external measurements of spirituality that have no scriptural basis. Don Whitney

Outward acts of…piety which do not flow from the new and God-given affections of the heart, which delight to depend on God and seek his glory are only legalism and have no value in honoring God. John Piper

Make no laws upon the saints where Christ hath not made any. Walter Cradock

I’m baffled continually at how easily Christian people treat as moral law those things that God has neither forbidden nor required. Some feel an irresistible urge to speak loudly whenever the Bible is silent. They find the ethical stipulations of Scripture inadequate for living the Christian life and feel compelled to supplement the Word of God with countless little do’s and dont’s that they are persuaded are essential to winning God’s favor and blessing. Sam Storms

Legalism itself comes in two forms. On the one hand are those legalists who insist on obedience to the law, especially their law, as a condition for acceptance with God. To be saved one must submit to rules and regulations, sometimes biblical ones, sometimes not. But at the heart of this variety of legalism is the idea that works are a condition for justification… The other kind of legalist may well affirm salvation by grace through faith, but demands that others submit to his image of what constitutes true spirituality. Invariably he or she sets extra-biblical guidelines, identifies morally proscribed activities, and then severely judges those who fail to measure up. Sam Storms

Let us not be deceived by outward appearances. Satan “disguises himself as an angel of light” (2 Cor. 11:14). He keeps his deadliest diseases most sanitary. He clothes his captains in religious garments and houses his weapons in temples. Legalism is a more dangerous disease than alcoholism because it doesn't look like one. Alcoholism makes men fail; legalism helps them succeed in the world. Alcoholism makes men depend on the bottle; legalism makes them self-sufficient, depending on no one. Alcoholism destroys moral resolve; legalism gives it strength. Alcoholics don't feel welcome in the church; legalists love to hear their morality extolled in church. John Piper

One of the most serious problems facing the orthodox Christian church today is the problem of legalism. One of the most serious problems facing the church in Paul's day was the problem of legalism. In every day it is the same. Legalism wrenches the joy of the Lord from the Christian believer, and with the joy of the Lord goes His power for vital worship and vibrant service. Nothing is left but cramped, somber, dull, and listless profession. The truth is betrayed, and the glorious name of the Lord becomes a synonym for a gloomy kill-joy. The Christian under the law is a miserable parody of the real thing. S. Lewis Johnson

God saves us from the reductionism of such legalism which enshrines spirituality as a series of wooden laws and then says, “If you can do these six, sixteen or sixty-six things, you will godly.” Christianity, godliness, is far more than a checklist. Being “in Christ” is a relationship. Kent Hughes

Legalism insists on conformity to manmade religious rules and requirements, which are often unspoken but are nevertheless very real… There are far too many instances within Christendom where our traditions and rules are, in practice, more important than God’s commands.

(We insist that God) must surely lead everyone as we believe He has led us. We refuse to allow God the freedom to deal with each of us as individuals. When we think like that, we are legalistic.

Jerry Bridges

Two Months

2011-05-06T06:17:00.001-07:00

I've got that bubbling feeling. It's been two months since I last posted a proper blog post - two months, ah that was an eternity when I was a little girl, but now months fly by and so instead of being in the clutches of Winter, the gentle arms of Spring embrace me. And so perhaps like the seeds that have sat so quiet in the earth and are now being drawn out of the ground by the warmth of Spring's touch, so the seed in my heart has grown and is ready to bloom. The bubbling feeling, I'm not sure that's a good description, but alas it's all my tired brain can think of right now, for my heart is full - ready to overflow and bubble up and be formed into words.

Block Heads

2011-04-27T02:32:00.001-07:00

My Ron Block appreciation hat (I'm still working on the beard) Ha!

Horatius Bonar

2011-02-20T00:18:00.000-08:00

"Why is there so much speaking, yet so little prayer? Why is there so much running to and fro, yet so little prayer? Why so much bustle and business, yet so little prayer? Why so many meetings with our fellow men, yet so few meetings with God?

Why so little being alone, so little thirsting of the soul for the calm, sweet hours of unbroken solitude, when God and His child hold fellowship together as if they could never part? It is the lack of these solitary hours that not only injures our own growth in grace, but makes us such unprofitable members of the church of Christ, and that renders our lives useless.

In order to grow in grace, we must be much alone with God. It is not in society, even Christian society that the soul grows most rapidly and vigorously. In one single quiet hour of prayer it will often make more progress than in whole days of company with others.

It is in the 'desert' that the dew falls freshest and the air is purest. So with the soul. It is when none but God is near; when His presence alone, like the desert air in which there is mingled no noxious breath of man, surrounds and pervades the soul; it is then that the eye gets the clearest, simplest view of eternal certainties; it is then that the soul gathers in wondrous refreshment and power and energy.

Nearness to God, fellowship with God, waiting upon God, resting in God, have been too little the characteristic either of our private or our ministerial walk. Hence our example has been so powerless, our labors so unsuccessful, our sermons so meager, our whole ministry so fruitless and feeble."

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I read the above in my Celtic Daily Prayer book (Prayers and Readings from the Northumbria Community). The book is an unusual one and I'm still trying to figure out if I like it or not, but I do like the snippets of stories, songs and quotations. I was surprised when I read the above because all I knew of Horatius Bonar was that he wrote some hymns, but he actually did a little more than just write songs for 'fun'.

The section in my 'devotional' book was taken from a much larger portion of his work entitled, Words to Winners of Souls - though another source calls it Ministerial Confessions http://www.gracegems.org/SERMONS/Ministerial%20Confessions.htm I haven't read the rest of it, but this small portion spoke to me so much about relationship, a real relationship with a real person, not a formula - a step by step procedure, but a relationship (like marriage) that takes time.

The term 'First Love' springs to mind, those first months when all you can think about is your future husband/wife. But when you fast forward 20 years, if you are not careful you can end up like two parallel lines, the relationship keeps going, the contract isn't broken, but the relationship isn't what it was - we've lost our first love.

Yes we do our side of the deal, I wash your clothes, you take the bin out, or in the case of our relationship with God, we can end up just doing what we feel our duties are - I go to church and read my Bible and God died for my sins and will take me to Heaven. But, that's not a relationship - there is so much more to knowing someone and loving someone than doing your duty. Oh, how it must grieve Him when we get busy 'ticking all the right boxes' when all He wants is for us to stop and spend time with Him.

But, like marriage, a relationship with God needs to be nurtured and you can only do that by spending time together and prayer does that - oh how hurried and fickle my conversation with God can be. I hear in Bonar's words the question of whether I've lost my first Love.

What Have I Done?

2011-01-09T13:53:00.001-08:00

I can barely see as I sit here typing. I have a ghastly cold. The sort of cold that leaves your eyes sore, your nose sore, your throat sore, in fact everything sore or aching, so it is more likely the flu-bug I've picked up from somewhere.

But, for all of the negatives of being ill, there is one positive. The fluff gets blown away. During the fitful hours of wakefulness, the unimportant, the menial and downright silly evaporate.

An illness makes you focus on all that really matters whilst the petty things slip gracefully off one's shoulders, the true weight of their importance is made known, they are composed of the lightest feathers. Much like snowflakes, each one delicately placed one on top of the other can prove a match for anyone wishing to shovel their driveway. But, once a scorching sun unleashes its rays, those flakes melt away.

And so, as I often do, I stood one morning at the kitchen sink, hands busy washing breakfast dishes, but with a mind far away, deep in thought. Eyes wide, looking up into the vast sky that stretches out before me. I notice the Mistle Thrush sitting proudly on a branch of my Mountain Ash tree, a regular who comes several times a day to feed on the berries of that faithful tree. From the corner of my eye I see the swoop and swing of the seagulls, who to me look so out of place in a little town like mine. Amidst the activity before my eyes and the snuffles and thrum of my aching head, I sigh, a sigh which to the trained ear speaks of something deeper than just the weariness of being ill.

Now with all those trivial worries out of my head, like 'How am I going to get all that ironing done?', 'Will my youngest son ever really learn to read fluently?', and the vain thoughts of 'Where can I find a new (cheap) elegant neck scarf from?', to the selfish, 'Everyone seems to have time to please themselves, all I want is more time to read my books'. Yes, now all of that chaff has been blown away, the clutter has been swept off the desk of my mind with one huge gust of wind during the feverish moments of the flu and the most important things remain.

The desk of my mind. Of course my desk is made of solid wood, of the very best kind, with ornately carved legs, and a strong, sturdy top. But it is old, oh very old, an antique, and of course it has all the buffs and scratches one would expect, and yet even they add to the beauty. There are drawers of various sizes, all to be opened using sumptuous, weighty handles, some of which are worn with use. Now that the clutter of what looked like a busy life has been removed from the top, only a few things remain for all to see. The desk top is what everyone we meet first sees, and it is rare we get past that with most people. So eager are we to look like we've got it all together, it seems safe to stay there, on surface level.

And so we keep the top of our desk fairly clean and tidy, or if not tidy, we like to look like we're busy, as if we're doing something productive and useful, the 'useful' part almost always needs to look distinctly 'Christian'. And certainly the illusion must be maintained that we have our ducks in a row. A family portrait lovingly placed in prime position, an assortment of fountain pens and markers, a neat pile of books, perhaps a few nick-knacks to pretty it up. A relationship that stays at this level is tiresome, never getting passed the, 'How are you?, 'I'm fine', type of conversation. Or if you do, the chittering is always in Christianese.

The drawers, ah the contents of the drawers are often more intriguing, filled with the usual filing systems, keepsakes, photographs - memories. Private things, known to but a few, the good the bad, it's all in there. Friendship at this level is often most enriching. This is real, full of nitty-gritty wholesome conversation, a tangible meal of thoughts and ideas, but to get there, one must open up. That can be painful. To be real with people presents so many dangers and possible misunderstandings, and it must be done so very wisely. But, to the seasoned soul who has guts to do it, and if the one they offer themselves to is also wise enough to accept the open heart presented to them, a deep and nourishing friendship will be enjoyed by both.

And of course there is a Secret Drawer. You can't have an antique desk and not have a Secret Drawer! There is normally only One who gets the privilege of seeing the contents of this particular Drawer. Hidden deep within the desk, perhaps access can only be obtained by a secret code or a silver key. And being a Secret Drawer it contains a box, and then a box within a box, each one lined with velvet, each becoming more secret and more treasured the further you proceed.

But, what is quite odd is that the deepest of boxes looks the most used, in fact it repulses me to see it laid bare, now that the 'fluff' is gone and there is very little left on my desk. The sickly paleness of the boxes only I know of cause me to blush a thousand times over. The drawer within a drawer, a box within a box, each locked with a silver key. A secret silver key. I alone have the key and know of the contents. But there is One who sees all, and has no need for such earthy objects as keys.

I must mention that my desk has a chair, overstuffed and delightfully comfy, but once I open that Secret Drawer and turn that precious key, my chair vanishes, all vanishes, even He that sees all disapears, I stand in blackness with nought but my secret. Everything is forgotten.

"What have I done?".

I quickly return to my desk top and scan its outward form. Am I trying hard enough? Do I press on and deny myself? Have I really untangled myself from this world and all that would stop me running with fervour? Am I nothing more than a weak, selfish soul, who just wants an easy life? Does my life line up to the standard, have I given my best, my all? Is there enough evidence to prove I am a Christian?

"What have I done?".

I can't write about the desk of my mind as a Tolkien fan and it not be a magical desk. Did I say everything vanishes and all is forgotten? God is still there even when I deliberately 'forget' Him. In the blackness He stands beside me and scans the meager display of items on top of my desk, then I wince as He reaches for my secret drawer.

I gasp, 'Oh, what have I done!?'.

His loving eyes swaddle me as He asks in return, 'But, what have I done?'.

I hear the clink of my last secret drawer open, my stomach wrenches, but behold, how could I have not noticed before, there is one more box inside. A Golden Box, sparkling like the sun, glistening like diamonds, He opens it and the light fairly blinds me, the whole room is Alight and all my secret boxes disappear.

Turning to my desk top, the 'Good Christian' life that stares up at me now makes my stomach heave, for the Light also shows their true identity. Dirty rags have replaced all that was there, I turn away in horror.

"What have I done?"

Again, He returns the question, 'But, what have I done?".

I understand, once more, He has done it all.

"Salvation is so much more than a change of destination from hell to heaven! The true spiritual content of our gospel is not just heaven one day, but Christ here and now" Major W. Ian Thomas.

"Now if we have died with Christ, we believe that we shall also live with Him" Romans 6:8

I breathe in, and the Mistle Thrush pecks off two more berries and flies home.

Bilbo's Desk photograph - http://community.thehobbitsite.com/Photo/Bag-End-Bilbos-desk/00FF6FFFF00F27D4B0007001EC415

Biscotti and the Bible.

2010-12-30T14:44:00.000-08:00

There's something immensely enjoyable about baking and cooking in general. When various ingredients are carefully blended and come out of the oven as an edible creation, the feeling is one of great satisfaction. But, being somewhat of a scatterbrain, with my head, arms and legs up in the clouds, the offerings from my kitchen can often be a haphazard mix of love and divine blessing.

Take breaded roe for example, oh, the frustration that occurs when I plan to make it and an hour or so before dinner I look in the fridge and realise I have no eggs. Chilli is another meal I love to prepare and scoff with equal delight. However it often has to make a hasty clothes change into Spaghetti bolognaise when I search the cupboards and discover I've run out of chilli powder. Oh, the woes of a Scatterbrain cook such as myself.

It is true that after many years of my haphazard way of cooking, that I can make a quick assessment of what is in the cupboards and can put together something to eat. And so often quite by accident the meal is enjoyed and no one would know the manic state the kitchen was in whilst preparing it. And yet it is never quite the same as when one is prepared and has a full storehouse filled and ready for whatever the cook so desires to make.

Imagine the manner in which my little heart skipped just before Christmas, when upon reading my favourite blog, the recipe for making Biscotti was given. I'd wanted to make something Christmassy with my children, something simple but enjoyable and the recipe for Biscotti looked perfect. I hesitantly opened the kitchen cupboards, warily ticking off each ingredient and found I had everything with which to make the little biscuits. Stunned, I gathered the children around and announced what we'd be doing that afternoon. It was such a good feeling, what a difference it makes I thought, when you have in your cupboards all the right ingredients.

It dawned on me that day how true it is of Bible memorization. I used to think it an impossible waste of time to memorize Bible verses. After all why do it? To show off in true Pharisaical fashion how much you know seemed the only reason I'd ever come across. Although that was never uttered by those enthralled with telling me their latest verse memorized, it always seemed to betray itself as such, 'I've learned all 27 chapters of Leviticus off by heart'. Perhaps that is an exaggeration, but it is simply nauseating and wearying to hear people blowing their own trumpets! I'm quick to remind myself when confronted with those who recite the book of Deuteronomy in Latin that it doesn't matter how much you know if you are not living it.

Burned as you can see by bad experiences, I am left very cautious, probably too cautious. It is so easy to be living from the flesh, the Pharisees were good at that. You can do the right thing, the righteous thing, but if it's from the flesh it's worthless. If the right thing is not rooted and grounded from the foundation of Jesus Christ, it is as filthy rags.

And so it is with that 'baggage' that I am a few days away from starting a Scripture Memory Challenge. My flesh still raw from so many years of the Pharisees sandpaper tongue whispering in my ear, and a mind wearied from being given the, 'tick the right box and you'll be okay' mentality. And so I stand on the brink of another adventure, with a heart looking for Jesus, Creator, Magnificent God amongst a lot of man made 'fluff'.

Biscotti and God. There is a link between the two and the link is with regard to what is in my cupboards, the cupboards of my soul. If my heart were a kitchen, would a quick inspection reveal there is little to nourish a tired soul who is lonely? Is there enough to quench the thirst of one whose tongue is parched from the world's bitter water? Is the fruit bowl empty? Are there no herbs or spices to enliven and bring sparkle to the eyes?

At times of stress it is a natural thing to turn to the kitchen and look for chocolate, a quick boost, a sweet taste, some comfort. But, what if instead I turned inward, no not to myself in self-pity, but inward to Him, what if I looked in the cupboards of my heart for what I could draw upon, and feed on, be built up by and have bones strengthened by. A storehouse full of delicacies to rekindle the eyes and help them focus on what is real and not what is only seen, nourishment to give increased stamina and make sleep sweeter. Yes, much like my cooking skills, I can rustle something up, but how deeply satisfying when the right ingredients are there to make a wholesome meal.

And so this is why for the second time I plan to take up the challenge, to fill my heart cupboards, not so as to invite neighbours to come and look so I can fling open those doors and show how they bulge with provisions. No, this food is not the plastic kind for display only, this food is for eating, not looking at, this food is to be perpetual. And as the fingers of my mind scan the cupboards in these months to come, every item will be in place and never run out.

Biscotti Bible? No, its not a new translation, but baking Biscotti will forever remind me of the value of having God's Word hidden in my heart.

The day I made Biscotti, my reading (pictured above) in Charles Spurgeon's Morning and Evening, was taken from Isaiah 41:10. How timely don't you think? "I will strengthen thee".

Joy All Year Round.

2010-12-14T08:34:00.000-08:00

This delightful ornament comes out but once a year in my home, and yet its truth abounds every day.

The Joy of the Lord. Joy when life is a mess, Joy when things go well, Joy when you are sad, Joy when you are happy, Joy during times of illness and despair, Joy when you feel full of life and health. How can this be?

As always my heart fairly bubbles over with thoughts and I have much to write that will have to wait for another day. But, this ornament was brought to my remembrance today as I read a blog that inquired, 'What Christmas decoration would you like to keep up all year round?'. Well, it would be this one, this sweet ornament that sits on my kitchen windowsill, looking down on dirty dishes, spills, books to mark, and chores to be done. It is a gentle reminder of Whom else looks down on me and where peace and content come from.

Peace on earth? Ah, yes there is very little of that when you read the news, and if I were to be honest with you, there is little peace in my house today. Grumbling and whinging have sprinkled the afternoon like nails beneath my feet, grumpy attitudes and deep frowns have pierced the air. And yet as I stop for a moment to turn my heart to Him I find peace. So, yes read the news, go Christmas shopping and it is anything but a peaceful world out there, but perhaps you seek peace in the wrong place? Jesus is the Peace on earth and peace is only to be found in Him.

Surprised by Joy.

2010-11-30T15:05:00.001-08:00

Surprised by Joy? Well, to be honest the title ought to be, 'Surprised by Kindness', but being a C.S. Lewis fan, I couldn't help but put the former.

You see, after an afternoon of Christmas shopping (of all things!) I came to wonder if anyone in the world actually wears a smile anymore. That said, I can be quite a grumpy creature, and to be sure, there are many days that if you were to be a 'fly on the wall' in my home you'd behold me wearing a grumpy countenance too, so I was very willing to give much grace to my fellow shoppers! Nonetheless, underneath my grouchy exterior is a heart that is content and at peace, and yet walking amidst the Christmas shoppers I struggled to find anyone with a smile or a sparkle in their eyes.

Back at home I wondered if perhaps everyone was just having a 'bad day' and maybe the next day should I have bumped into them all again they would be beaming back at me or perhaps it's just Christmas shopping that causes a frown to appear everywhere I look. I began to wonder when the last time was that someone showed kindness to those weary souls. Not just out of selfish motives, or because some reciprocation was to be had. But, kindness that would have cost the giver something, though they had nought to gain by such an act. My heart was grieved to think of the many people who have no relatives close by, no friend in their own home, the lonely widow, a mourning husband, no one to say a friendly word, no one to make them a hot cup of tea or greet them in the morning with a warm embrace. Oh, what a stranger's kindness might do for those dear souls when they least expect it.

For I've been surprised by the kindness of people these past few months, both that of real life, flesh and blood friends and of those I only know through the written word. Kindness that cost something, either time, money or some sort of effort that they could have quite easily decided against doing, knowing full well they would get nothing in return, they were not seeking anything in return anyway. What I'm trying to say is that they didn't have to be kind, I would have been none the wiser had the thought of kindness remained just that and not turned into action, and yet they made the choice to act and in doing so chose kindness. Kindness that has left me deeply moved and thankful.

And so as I thought of the kindness shown me, my mind returned to those not so jolly Christmas shoppers who carry goodness knows what scars, worries and fears around with them as they trundle from shop to shop. Weary with walking, perhaps weary with life, needing a little kindness shown to them. I can't help but be reminded of the Good Samaritan. The stranger. The one that showed kindness and had nothing to gain himself, but with compassion in his heart bestowed the greatest sort of kindness and possibly the hardest. What a beautiful story that is.

How thankful I am for those dear people who have shown kindness to me recently, and thankful for the Kindest of all who gave His life. "Greater love has no one than this, that one lay down his life for his friends." John 15:13.

I really should have given this post the title, 'Surprised by Kindness', but I think 'Surprised by Joy' does actually fit, for joy is what kindness grows in me when I receive it and when I give it.

Surprised by kindness. Surprised by joy.

The Good Samaritan.
Rembrandt van Rijn (1606, Leiden – 1669, Amsterdam)

All By Myself?

2010-11-26T01:37:00.001-08:00

As a man enshrouds himself in a thick, black cloak to protect himself against the biting wind, so loneliness enveloped me in its stifling heaviness recently, wrapping me in a deafening silence. It is a curious thing for one such as I, acquainted with many, many years of isolation to then one day feel a sudden dread at this mantle of solitude. I've been grateful for the Internet these past 10 years or so for at least providing some form of dialogue and encouragement outside of my four walls that do not come from the mouth of someone younger than ten! (Praise the Lord for CHF!). To be sure, many a soul would have sought an end to this reclusion and perhaps were it not for the many good websites out there maybe I would have too. But, even then I'm not so sure I would, I've always been quite happy to have quiet evenings at home with a book or a stirring film, not one for crowds or parties, a 'social butterfly' I am not.

And so, the hermit in me didn't feel the sting that having children often brings, that of great restriction and resentment and a longing for having respect in the workplace again, an income of my own, or wishing for the 'good old days' of being out on the town. Ha! I was never out on the town anyway, or if I was I didn't really want to be there. Tea, a book and some peace and quiet, PLEASE! Of course, having children has placed some restrictions on me (and a few resentments along the way) but the confinement has never had the effect it might have on some, but being somewhat of a loner it isn't a surprise that I'm okay with being alone. INFJ might enlighten you (google it!).

The walls do close in on me some days though, looking down on me, grimacing in their tallness, reminding me how long it has been since the gust of a hilltop wind stirred my sleeping soul awake, or the spray of the wild waves brought the salt air to my taste. But, as soon as the sun starts to set, those walls have worn themselves out with their hard stares and sleep quietly as I bury myself in the pages of a book. And so you see, this shroud of loneliness was indeed quite distinct with its sudden weight and swiftness as it encased me, undeniably noticeable to one such as I who, apart from the presence of my children, spends most days alone anyway, happily plodding on.

Was a hint of jealousy creeping into my heart, or a finger of resentment wagging itself at me suggesting I could be doing something better with my time than spending all day with my children, or perhaps a weariness of heart and mind, a tower of worries about to topple and no one to steady its shaking but my own feeble hands?

"Though I fall I will rise; Though I dwell in darkness, the LORD is a light for me." Micah 7:8

The above verse greeted me one morning soon after and the mithering of my soul melted away. The darkness did indeed represent many things to me, it was a picture of the uncertainty over the future for loved ones, the fear of the unknown and the many 'what ifs' of daily life. As well as the dangerous contemplation that reeks of self-absorbtion of whether I had a friend who is a friend no matter what, not just a friend who wishes to make me a carbon copy of themself. Yes, this 'cloak' was infact a tower of worries in my head ready to topple, indeed a heavy weight that felt like I was just going to have to cope 'alone', a weight that bore down hard on my shoulders. Brick upon brick had been stacking up over days and weeks, getting higher and more unstable as each was set upon the other. Instead of giving them one at a time to my Heavenly Father I had built a monstrosity which gazed back at me in contempt, laughing at my inability to build any higher on my own or stop the whole thing from collapsing.

Isn't that where He brings us, unable to build any higher, at our wits end because we've run out of steam. You see, it would not be by my hand alone that this tower would be steadied would it? Like the Elven cloak dear Frodo uses to disguise himself from the Haradrim in Return of the King, his friend Sam was hiding with him. The weight of the ring too heavy for him to bear later on in the story was eased as again sweet Sam carried his beloved friend. This Cloak of darkness and solitude that I have worn is shared with my friend, the LORD. He is a light for me, His hand steadies the tower of worries, (infact I'm quite sure He tears it down and builds something beautiful) His light gives guidance, and should I never speak to another person ever again, He is with me always.

And isn't that how it is with all of us, be you introvert or extrovert, there are times when the weight of life can rest on our shoulders and our knees almost buckle in their effort to stay still and maintain some sort of equilibrium. With decisions to make, goals to aim for, deadlines to meet, let alone the humdrum of daily goings on. But that tower that looks like it might topple any moment is not dependent on you, your faithfullness, or your whipping up enough excitement in your soul to steady its shaking. You will never, ever be alone. Of course, you can choose to not listen, to close your eyes to His hand be it a warning or encouragement, but you are never alone.

Did not Paul and John have times when they felt alone, what about Bunyan in his cell, Hudson Taylor, oh how bleak the future must have seemed to them all at times. Did Jim Elliot's 'tower' never shake, did the sustenance of those precious orphans rest on George Muller's shoulders alone? David, ah yes David, was he ever alone? Yes he spent many days alone as a shepherd, but he was not really alone and he knew it. In each case none of these men were ever solitary beings, independent creatures left to their own devices. Ah, once we're Christians we can act independently, stepping ahead, bearing the weight, struggling on, but oh we know how that often turns out. These men dealt with much darkness and many unanswered questions but they were never, ever alone even in their prison cells, they knew the truth that Micah spoke of.

And so despite there still being no answers to my worries and fears, I have laid down my 'bricks' at His feet, content to rest and leave them in the Hands of the Master Builder.

All by myself? Not at all.

Though I fall I will rise; Though I dwell in darkness, the LORD is a light for me." Micah 7:8

Be sure to check out the following link, where that marvelous scene of Sam carrying Frodo up Mount Doom above can be ordered as a poster.

http://www.wbshop.com/The-Lord-of-the-Rings-EXCLUSIVE-The-Return-of-the-King-Poster-Sam-Carries-Frodo-up-Mount-Doom/LOTRPOSTER25,default,pd.html

Are You Wholehearted?

2010-11-12T02:57:00.000-08:00

Wholehearted. Oh, don't you just love that word? I've yet to discover exactly what it is I like so much about it. It evokes images in my mind of warm fireside evenings, tea shared with friends, family walks on blustery autumn days. Dark, cold evenings spent in a hot kitchen dishing out steaming vegetable soup to your family. Its antonym would be a divided heart or words like unsettled, restless, ruffled, tense and frayed at the edges.

I'd like to be able to say that the former is always what my heart looks like, wholehearted, full of warmth, contentment, a life giving heart, committed and strong. Alas, too often I'm running on empty and a little bewildered and weary. I'm a mother so that shouldn't be too much of a surprise, after all what mother isn't at some point bewildered and weary, but it seems many women not just mothers have a weary heart from juggling life.

This is why I'm so thankful for several ladies and ministries that have helped open my eyes and strengthen my heart over the years, rebuilding those places that well meaning voices have knocked down by strengthening and nourishing it, making it healthy and alive.

And so I implore you to seek out an author that has been a friend over the years, albeit through the pages of her books. Cheering me on in the side lines, feeding my heart, giving direction and tending to those frayed edges with gentle care. Sally Clarkson aptly named her ministry Whole heart Ministries, and I can think of no better name for a ministry that seeks to encourage a woman's heart by filling it up so she can pour out to those around her.

Sally has written many books over the years, all of which are worth your time, be you single or married, whether you homeschool or not. Your heart will be strengthened and you will find yourself returning to your 'first love' as you are guided to listen to His voice. And if you live in the U.S. you have the privilege of being able to attend one of the conferences she holds each year, and although I have never been able to attend myself due to living in England, I can confidently recommend them to you, for her books are life giving and I've no doubt her conferences would be also.

A time of refreshing, a time to fill your cup. Ministering deep into your weary soul whilst recharging and refocusing your energies. Please take time to click the link on the sidebar, or if like me you can't attend a conference seek out her books and become wholehearted.

Please take a moment to view the following websites and blog. If you click the link in the sidebar it will take you directly to information about Sally's upcoming conferences in Jan-Mar 2011.

http://www.wholeheart.org/

http://www.itakejoy.com/

Your Mom Heart Matters.

The Time for Faith is Now.

2010-11-04T02:08:00.000-07:00

Many years ago life seemed clear cut. I've been listening to a cd that brings back such memories from a time in my life when the path ahead was easy to see and easy to understand. It was so plainly marked out that there was little doubt in my mind as to what lay ahead. Naivety may have made that path look brighter and easier to follow and of course back then I had only just started my journey, this cd reminds me that I was a four year old 'baby' Christian and newly married, and now looking back I see that really I had barely even started my Walk.

Fourteen years later, that path is no longer a pretty little trail that I'm walking along, like the sort that one would find up in the Peak District, where you can see for miles, with a huge sky hanging over you, and the cool breeze carrying a myriad of pleasant scents and sounds for you to enjoy and each twist and turn of the road ahead begging you to walk a bit further.

I'm still on that path that began so prettily, but oh how it has changed as I've travelled upon it. The sky now is not high and wide, it is not clear and blue, well not always like it was at the beginning. The path does have certain stretches that are glorious, the views breathtaking, the flowers that are blooming are deliciously sweet to smell. And yet the further along the path I go, the darker and more overgrown it becomes. I can barely see but a few feet ahead of me, the hedges are so tall and ungroomed that I cannot see to my left or right, and ahead of me it is misty and eery. Does it beckon me to walk on? Nay, I'm inclined to stand still and not move another foot.

And yet, though the path seems difficult, the way ahead so unclear and daunting, fear would take my heart were it not for the fact that I know Who walks with me. Although at the start my path was pretty and a joy filled me that bid me to skip the whole way, yes although those years of walking with Jesus were like a pleasant stroll, strangely now, this path with its dark foreboding sky and tangled nettles that block my path, and high wall-like privets that obstruct what my eyes wish to see. Despite my trembling heart, regardless of the whisperings of doubt, even with such surroundings, the path is better now than it ever was.

What folly it must seem! At the start I think I may have been inclined to stay on that pretty path, and though Jesus may have walked ahead of me, I would have been content to sit and look at the view, I fear this is where many Christians stay and why so many do not seem to grow. But, now I walk on, the fear that grips my heart over the future, the what-ifs and thoughts that tumble in mind, even the beautiful parts of the path that beckon me to rest will not stop me walking like they used to if He carries on down the path.

I could not sit down on the tender grass, and breathe in the clean cool air, and let my eyes delight in the beauty of the view if He got up and carried on. Oh, yes I have lingered despite Him moving on, I have sat so long that I fell asleep as dear Christian did in Bunyan's tale. How many months if not years have I remained a baby Christian, stunting my growth, lapping up the view but not moving on with Him.

And so, though I'm scared to death and this path is not a happy little trip anymore, I've not just got my ticket to Heaven and now spend my days going round the merry-go-round of 'sinning/forgiveness' anymore. I'm walking with my Friend, I wouldn't dare sit and not follow, I couldn't leave His side. Oh, but I still can't see what's ahead, in fact it seems to get darker and foggier the more I walk, the path gets narrower with each step, twigs and branches scratch, and the mist leaves a dampness in the air. But He is there, sometimes a little way ahead of me, sometimes at my side, but many times He is so far in front that the mist enshrouds Him and I can't see Him, but He calls back to me, 'The time for Faith is now'.

What? Didn't I have faith 'back then' when I started down this path? Yes, Faith that He died in my place, Faith that He forgives and Faith that He will save me. I didn't need faith for much else back then, I trusted myself for the path ahead, I could see for miles so I thought, but now I know that I can see very little and can control very little. Now I have a Faith Story.

The time for Faith is now.

Falling Down

2010-10-23T13:49:00.001-07:00

'Falling Down the Stairs' ought to be the title of this blog post, but that sounded too comical, especially since the reality was quite the opposite.

You see, I did fall down the stairs a few days ago. I had been busy upstairs carrying out the mundane task of collecting dirty laundry from all the respective rooms, and when my arms were too full to carry anymore and I could no longer see anything before my eyes but piles of clothes, I proceeded as I always do, taking careful steps down the stairs.

My youngest who had been busily working on 'lessons' in the front room had placed her work book on the half-way step, obviously so happy with her work that she had put it there to surprise me. Well, it did surprise me, negatively I'm sad to say. My foot slipped on that middle step and I landed with a painful thud against my back on the bottom step.

My children gathered around me in a flash, fussing and questioning, and to be quite honest I wanted to be left alone. What transpired fascinates me though, as although the pain in my back was insufferable, the tears that flowed from my eyes seemed to come from a much deeper well than that initial pain. I cried and cried, but minutes later the tears seemed to be of a different kind.

It took but one step amidst common-place routine to shake me up. And I do even now, some four days later feel decidedly jangled inside, physically more so than spiritually, but it has certainly given me much food for thought. It occured to me how comfortable we all try to make things, and how my sudden surge of distress bought on by the jolt of the fall had aroused all manner of profound thoughts that had been on the 'back burner' so to speak, and thrust them to the forefront of my mind, and how at the same time peripheral things vanished as they were unimportant.

With a literal jolt the needful in my heart had awoken, 'Only one thing is needed' Jesus told Martha, and when it comes down to it the same holds true for us as it did for Mary. He is not just to be first in my life, but the Only thing, my life flows from Him, He gives me life.

All my eyes could see as I proceeded down the stairs were my daily tasks, smothered almost literally in monotony, treading through the 'rut' of normal life, looking no further than the boring laundry that was in my line of sight, I couldn't see where I was going, I was looking at the wrong thing. And where am I going? Well, I'm supposed to be following my Saviour, but how can I follow Him if I let too much 'junk' get between us. Merciful Father that He is, as Andrew Peterson sings 'Falling down ain't graceful, but I thank the Lord that falling is full of grace'. And so it is, for He causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.

It just so happened that the following day one of the books I'm reading spoke in a small way on this idea of being woken up as it were by 'falling down'. The book is called 'The Highlander's Last Song' by George MacDonald, and in this chapter Christina (an unbeliever who has up until this chapter had many conversations with another character called Ian about his faith in God, but she has been all but 'dead' to all that he has said) is now suddenly trapped in a flash flood, but saved from drowning by Ian.

"Suddenly in danger, self came less to the front with her than usual. For the first time in her life she was face-to-face with reality. Until this very moment her life had been an affair of unrealities. Solid reality itself is not enough to teach some of nature's reality; they must hurt themselves against its solidness before they realize its solidity, its reality. Looking at a soft river floating away in the moonlight is hardly reality to a dreaming soul. But the river was real! Christina was shivering in its grasp of her body, its omnipresence to her skin; its cold made her gasp and choke; the push and tug of it threatened to sweep her away like a log.

When we are most aware of fact-ness, we are most aware of our need for God, and most able to trust Him. The recognition of inexorable reality in any shape, or kind, or ways tends to rouse the soul to the yet more real, to its relations with higher and deeper existence. It is not the hysterical alone for whom the great dash of cold water is good. All who dream life instead of living it require some similar shock. Every disappointment, every sorrow, every tragedy of life can work the same way - can drive one trifle nearer to the truth of being. Hence this sharp contact with nature tended to make Christina less selfish. It made her forget herself so far as to care for her helper as well as her self."

Jigsaw

2010-10-10T08:21:00.001-07:00

Worries, memories, and fears. Musings, Bible verses to study, and thoughts to wrestle out. These things tumble around my mind like playful children. If Time were more generous, She would bestow an abundance of herself on me so I could write and think better. But no, she is not a Lady, far from it, She devours herself like a wild beast. For this reason, I chase these thoughts throughout my days, and they merrily laugh at my inability to keep up with them. A few of these children I have beckoned to slow down and mercifully they have, and with arms outstretched have offered their hand, and so I get to sit a while, like a child myself again, to learn something new.

The Thoughtful Child has bid me sit quite often lately, and like a great many thoughtful children he is often not playing a chasing game. Oh, yes, with the thrill of sweet air in his nostrils, and the golden sunlight dancing amongst the trees, he did at first join in with the chase, but soon got distracted. Running through the tender, stalks of grass, the sun alights on a spider's web. Unconsciously his feet stop running, and as if being drawn like a moth to the flame he sits beside the web marvelling at the beauty. Quite suddenly, a spider zips out from her hiding place, twanging the threads with her delicate legs, the boy giggles at the thought of this little girl spider finger picking at her guitar-like web and wonders if it sounds sweet. His laugh stops as a fly, unbeknonst to the danger, speeds towards the web, the boys gasps. Trapped! As the web shakes violently, the spider strikes to kill, envelops her victim in her silvery thread and hastily carries her next meal back to her hiding place.

Such an every day occurrence, flys get eaten all the time, rabbits get caught on the road all the time, people die all the time. So, why does it feel so wrong? So much sorrow, so much hurt. Does not the Thoughtful Child know already the pain that ends a barefoot walk in the fields and wish that it were not so? Age dulls the child likeness in our hearts, we soon stop those barefoot walks, we've been stung too often literally by the foolishness of others discarding their litter or the stabbings of cruel stingers on our legs. If only we could twirl and skip amongst the fields of green and gold without fear, fear of pain and fear of ridicule for doing what one's heart whispers when we're still enough to hear it. And yet my heart still bids me to do it. Surely for a reason my heart is tugged at this way?

Ah, I could go on a tangent here regarding the fear of man, and of being ridiculed in the same manner David was for dancing before the Lord. To be sure, I'm not about to run to the nearest field, kick my shoes off and do cartwheels! My point today is deeper than that, focusing more on the fact that my heart even calls out to me to live in such wild, free abandon at all. The fear of man, oh what a tremendous topic that is, but that merry little child will have to run ahead of me for now.

Back to our fly caught in a web, such a little, insignificant thing. Does any one actually even like flys? And yet to The Thoughtful Child or adult who still retains that child-likeness, the story has been told once again, it has unfolded before his very eyes, of a beautiful, yet broken world. Our hearts daily get hardened and get used to loss and death. Hardly worth noticing on one hand, good riddance to the fly I'm sure some would say. We're so accustomed to having to put our shoes on and be sensible, so used to troubles in this life, and certainly Jesus warned us we would not escape them. And so at both ends of the scale they often hit us, from the little disappointments to the searing tragedies, that cause us to wonder at God's wisdom. Yet, this little event, a spider's meal, is part of a jigsaw puzzle, albeit probably one of the smallest pieces that fit into the puzzle called The Curse.

It occurred to me recently that life is like one knocked over coffee cup after another (after having knocked yet another full cup of hot coffee all over my green carpet). After all, who can claim to not be touched in some way by hassle, illness, and stress. Most of us have fairly comfortable lives in the West, but we still stub our toe, or are stuck behind an annoying driver, or have to deal with unpleasant people. Who would honestly want to live down here forever in these sorts of conditions! Something in us calls, and tugs at our heartstrings singing with a sweet tune, a song we know deep down inside us. Life was not meant to be this way.

Heartache and despair can come like a sudden blast, a cruel wind that knocks your feet from under you, or as a whispering wind that slowly bores a hole in your very being eating away at you, replacing living flesh with dead, putrid bitterness. Our frown grows deeper, our smiles are forced, our joy fades like a faltering fire, all but snuffed out as the cold, damp of night steals its fervor.

We plod on, forgetting Who's children we are. Despair is worn like a necklace, and quite often it is hidden, oh this is not an embellishment we want to wear for all to see, and in our attempt to look like we've got it altogether we hide it, giving the appearance that we never question and wrestle with our Maker. Oh, how foolish we are. We are all the same.

And so a hidden, heavy, rusty chain, rubs at our neck, burning and itching, link after link of little troubles, inconveniences and hassle being added to our days. Until, finally, true despair brings us to our knees, we collapse under the weight of one more link and finally turn to God for help. What music in His ears it must be. He Lovingly wipes our tears away and soothes our troubled heart. Ah, no He doesn't remove the chain as we supposed He would and that can surprise us till we know Him better. But if we look again we'll see those chains are jewels. For jewels they were when He first let them pass through His fingers to grace our neck. Our eyes see only cruel chains, cold hard metal that hurts and stings, but turn to Him and our vision comes clear.

The analogy has been used many times before of a beautiful tapestry being a tangled mess when it is turned over and its underside viewed. Could not the same be said, and probably has been already of the jigsaw puzzle. Not that of the Curse, for the Bible explains both sides of that puzzle. To the unbeliever they see the underside and God seems cruel, but once eyes are opened we see the whole picture, again literally, we really do see the whole picture, all the way from Eden to our Heavenly Home. God is no longer cruel, for in seeing His Story we see Redemption and how loving and merciful He is.

But, what about the jigsaw of our individual lives? For the most part my hassles include that of a coffee stained carpet, or lack of time and the little frustrations that sprinkle each day. And yet, they are all pieces of the puzzle in my life. Their undersides are blank, plain, ugly and like most jigsaws they are grey, matt, rough to touch and look like every other piece, there is no story told on the underside of a jigsaw, there is no explanation.

We're boxed in, shoved along a conveyor belt, one day rolls into another as we carry our chains, our questions, worries and hurts around. How I long to be the Thoughtful Child again, to regain my childlike heart. To see the hurt, look it in the face as it falls down on my life and remember Who's child I am, Who is building this jigsaw and that though I might feel a dark shadow hover above me as He snaps it into place, to remember to rest in the fact that although from my viewpoint I see something with no explanation, no answer or way out, He is building a story out of me. The necklace of sorrow, despair and pain, those links, like messengers are not sent by a cruel Maker, nay, He chooses each Jewel carefully as an instrument that will lead me to the safe haven of His care.

Childlike Heart. Oh, how I long to re-gain that and never lose it again and be thoughtful instead of harried. Oh, to not just hurry along, rushing physically and mentally from one task to another, to not feel overwhelmed when those delicate links are placed on my neck, but to trust Him. How soon I forget, till a heavy chain is added and I really can't take any more and as what seems like a last resort I finally run to Him. Yes, how foolish I am and how soon I forget what He has told me of his love and care, oh how could I doubt Him? Ah, but He knows my doubts inside out and uses them to bring forth good till a lesson is learned. As George MacDonald said, "Doubt can be a tool in God's hand weilded, in the lives of those who allow it, for the strengthening, not the destruction of faith."

So I long to be a Thoughtful Child, who doesn't forget, who sees and acknowledges the beauty of the Creator, acknowledges the pain and sorrow, the frustration of living in a fallen world as all part of the jigsaw puzzle. And yet, whose childlike heart rests in the knowledge that his Father is good, his Father loves him and his Father is the Wisest of all.

Autumn

2010-09-01T07:01:00.001-07:00

The cool breath of Autumn has returned. English weather always seems to delight in playing a game with its land dwelling friends. The Sun can be beating down on you in its fury one day, and then as if in sympathy, the Rain releases us from the Sun's scorching, but she always seems to over do it, like a Grandmother showering her grandchildren with gifts. Had you accompanied my children and I on a stroll to the library this past Saturday, you would have been delighted at the unhurried hush of a warm August afternoon. However, walking back from the library, you would have joined us in the frenzied rush to take shelter under a large Maple tree, as the heavens released their torrent. The pattern of the weather can leave you wondering if there really are seasons in England at all.

Nonetheless, Autumn always unashamedly makes its presence known. The air has a slight chill, a thin crispness, especially in the morning. The leaves begin losing their luster, and glisten no longer in the sun, tinged with a sort of sadness, like a woman noticing one more wrinkle around her eyes. A fragrance fills the air that I have yet to discover the source, and all manner of things suddenly feel cold to my touch. The sign that Autumn is making its way, meandering ever so slowly, taking hold in a a gentle manner of the reigns that Summer has held, is seen and felt everywhere, a delight to my senses.

September is my favourite month, and so today my heart breathes a contented sigh that it is finally here. Summer is filled with colour and all manner of life that has been brooding below that suddenly leaps forth in wild abandon at Summer's call. Spring is Autumn's younger sister, singing a joyous song that Winter's cruel hand has melted with one kiss from her tender lips. Winter has a beauty that is best seen through the painter's eyes, they capture the mood so well. The past few years Winter has found favour with me, but it takes a quiet, unhurried eye to see Winter's finery. There is something lovely about each season, but were they suitors, Autumn would win my heart every time.

Afterall, who could turn down a season that requires cardigans, the purchase of new boots, and the lighting of a single lamp that casts its glow around a room, begging you to sit and rest awhile. And food, ah autumnal food, hearty soups, steaming stews and chilli with crusts of bread, mugs of hot chocolate at night and a hot breakfast in the morning. A season that blesses all with rosey cheeks, and demands only in return that they crunch the leaves beneath their feet and return to the child-like happiness of kicking leaves, and throwing great handfulls of the playful fellows in a leaf throwing fight!

September reminds me of Middle-earth and calls me to go back to that fantasy world, and visit a dear Hobbit by the name of Bilbo. I first read Lord of the Rings in the month of September, and seeing as Bilbo and Frodo both celebrate their birthday in this grand month it is hard not to associate all things Tolkien with September, and thus at least one of his books must be read. One day is set with a jewel amonst the others though, that of my own birthday, and I like to think the Creator of the seasons Himself chose this month because He knew what a joyous time of year this would be to me. Autumn, ah sweet Autumn, a delight to my eyes and my ears.

Happy Autumn to you.

Worship? (or more appropriately - A Rant about Worship)

2010-08-24T05:54:00.000-07:00

So, to save myself exploding or worse, the post I've been writing the past few days on a more lovely topic will have to wait.

I am amazed at how personal conviction, personal preference and personal beliefs are so readily 'backed up' with Bible verses. I'm afraid this post will not be eloquent (grammar will be even more lacking than usual, as will spelling) nor will it be filled with beautiful words, and wonderful thoughts to inspire the reader. Mainly because my brain is on a roller coaster and feeling a bit sad.

What is rather amusing is that the topic on my brain sounds somewhat silly, at least when one stands back from it. A book with the title, 'What Would Jesus Eat' has sent shivers up and down my spine. I'm nauseated at the thought of the possibility of there being (yet another) bracelet with the acronym WWJE emblazoned on it.

What is more nauseating is the idea that we, as a people, as Christians, seem to still be looking for that one thing that will lift us up a notch on the 'Spirituality' ladder. To be fair, I've never read the book, and it does sound somewhat interesting to a history nerd like myself. It would be fascinating to read about the sort of meals Jesus and his disciples shared. However, I am certain the answer to the question of what would Jesus eat, would be 'whatever He wanted'.

I can see great wisdom in wanting to eat 'healthy', and yet upon reading a blog today, written by someone following what is called the Leviticus diet, I have been left wondering why in general, (not just with the regard to food as this topic actually covers many areas of a believer's life) do we get given a new life, and then set to impose our own 'little laws' on ourselves?

People insist that salvation is through nothing but Jesus, and that they don't condemn believers who don't follow their particular thoughts on food or whatever. And yet, I read and instantly feel condemned. If your belief is truly just your belief, why have you attached so many Bible verses to it. I am convinced it is because our sinful 'flesh' loves to feel that it is doing something, anything, to earn salvation, or if not earn it, to 'help' it a little, make it better somehow.

I believe the Bible is the Word of God, and in tacking Bible verses to why you eat what you eat (or do whatever) your 'beliefs' are no longer just your beliefs anymore. If it were so, that it was just your 'belief' who would care after all why you don't eat pork. But, in adding Bible verses, you've portrayed them as God's beliefs as well, and this makes me sit up and take notice. God's Word is immensely important to me and it adds a whole lot more 'weight' to your belief system and your personal list of do's and don'ts. A red flag goes up in my heart when I read about what people do/don't do, and then see a list of Bible verses.

These things leave me bothered, niggled and very unhappy.

Eating vegetables is not more spiritual than eating birthday cake. Reading a book is not more spiritual than watching a film. Walking in the garden is not more spiritual than driving to a shopping centre. None of these things will transform you, make you holier or have an effect on your relationship with Jesus. Eating chocolate will not make Jesus not want to talk to you, likewise eating an apple will not enamour Him towards you.

There is a right and wrong, God is so clear on that. But, once we're in Him, we're either going to be walking in the 'flesh' or the 'spirit', food is a non issue. And if you're unfortunate enough to be reading my rant and have read these books, or eat the 'Levitical' way, well that's fine, I'm not bothered what you eat, anymore than you are concerned what I had for lunch two weeks ago. So, why am I so upset? Salvation is from Jesus alone, and I defend it ferociously. I've read several times that those who follow these 'diets' have said, 'We don't think eating like this is part of our salvation, we believe only Jesus saves us, we do this as worship'. Then please don't use Bible verses to back up *your* personal preference.

My husband echoes my own thoughts. "Call me old and stuffy but what's wrong with just depending on what Jesus did for us? Sounds much easier to me! 'I have no hope except I believe Christ died for my sins, according to Scripture' ' I expect to fling out into eternity on that'"

Christ plus nothing.

I need to add that Romans 14 speaks heavily on the issue of 'food', and not regarding with contempt your 'weak' brother. To eat/not eat xyz 'for the Lord' (Rom. 14:6) is fine and why I don't mind what a fellow Christian does as long as its not sin, and I would not flaunt my freedom in front of such a one who is weak. But, to take the issue of abstinence of certain foods and deliberately raise it to the level the blog I stumbled on today did, is quite distasteful...(pun not intended!)

Hermit

2010-05-16T12:46:00.000-07:00

This is probably not the best time to write, or maybe it is? At this moment I feel trapped. I feel like dashing out in the street, running as fast as I can, letting my hair stream behind me and running into the open road before me. In a perfect world, I would run out of the house and up a nearby hill (imagine The Sound of Music) fling my arms in the air, whip my shoes off and dance around till I could dance no more.

Unfortunately, there is no hill and I probably couldn't run very far anyway.

If there was ever a sign that there is more than what we see, it is the nagging in my heart, the longing to break free out of my skin and just fly. And so I feel like a hermit. A content hermit. One who understands that for now, life is less than what it should be.

I'm reading The Borrowers to my children at present, and in a small way I feel like one (that wasn't supposed to be a joke!). I, and the world around me is living under the house, just trying to get through the day and deal with its up and downs. And yet, is this all there really is? Once you know that it isn't, your heart strings continually tug at you, calling out your name, they bid you to run.

Daffodils

2010-04-16T05:35:00.000-07:00

It has been over a month ago now since I looked out of my living room window and noticed little daffodil bulbs pushing their way through the soil. It always surprises me when I see them, as I forget they are there. Nonetheless, all through the winter they have been waiting to whisper ever so softly to me, 'Winter is almost over, Spring is waking up'.

After months of freezing temperatures, icy mornings, and blankets of snow, my little bulbs had lay sleeping beneath the ground, all but forgotten till that morning back in March. First of course just green tips appeared, hardly making a dent in the soil. Then in what seems a blink of the eyes, long stalks had grown, and they proudly waved their treasure filled heads high above the ground. Though of course their beauty was still hidden, like hands cusped around a trapped butterfly. A treasure within still yet to be revealed.

My contempt of their apparent dullness did not stop them, their mission must be accomplished. And it seemed they heard my scowling remarks as they called back to me,'You can't stop us now, look how tall we are, be patient dear Gardener, soon the fruit of your labour will be revealed and you shall see us in all our glory'.

It happened one early morning a few weeks ago now. After pulling back the curtains I stopped dead in my tracks. Struck dumb for what seemed several minutes. Motionless, as my brain scrambled to understand what my eyes were seeing. The beauty had truly been revealed. My dancing friends were not yellow daffodils as I had thought. For months I had eagerly awaited the cheery faces of yellow daffodils greeting me every morning. How lovely they would look, a bit of sunshine on a sunless, grey English evening.

Now, I felt foolish, what a waste! The truth could not be avoided, I had not sown daffodil bulbs at all. Despite what I had planned, despite my visions of sunny daffodils while they were still sleeping deep in the ground. No, I had not sown daffodils, but tulips. Deep, red, velvety tulips.

My tulips look gorgeous of course. But, the spiritual application of my mistake was very clear. You will reap what you sow. For all the hopes and dreams you have treasured in your heart. Not one of them will you reap if it is not what you've sown.

As a mom of four children this is painful. I may dream of godly children who will love the Lord. Hardworking sons, gracious daughters, honorable young men and women. But if my sowing habits do not line up with my vision, I will not reap it. Like the beautiful daffodils I dreamed of as I gazed at dull green heads, they were a figment of my imagination, a phantom with no substance to them at all.

I am reminded of what Pastor John Barnett said. 'You will not get to where you want go, unless you are going there now'. His exact words escape me, but like my gardening skills, you will not get daffodils if you sow tulips.

A Position of Peace.

2010-03-12T11:51:00.000-08:00

Over ten years ago, not long after we'd got hooked up to the Internet, I stumbled across CHFweb.net and Elisabeth Elliott's daily devotional radio programmes. We were planning to homeschool our then 3 year old son. So I spent a lot of time scouring the Internet for help and advice. Without a doubt these two websites shaped and formed me. Landing in my lap at about the same time, they with one voice, guided and moulded me as I learned from them what God's role for women was.

I'd been a Christian for about 8 years, married for 5, and a mom for 3. But, what the role of wife and mom actually looked like was unclear. I had an inkling of what it looked like, but couldn't 'see' it anywhere. During that time period I heard many sermons and Bible studies on important topics from the Bible. And although the internet had been around for a while, it wasn't nearly so accessible and reliable as it is now. Now you need only do a search on sermonaudio.net to get a plethora of sermons on the topic of Biblical womanhood by Bible teachers from around the world. But then we were limited to whatever message was given once a week at church. They were good, solid messages, but mostly they didn't teach on the role of men and women. 'How could moms and dads raise strong families if they didn't know what God said about the matter' I used to wonder. I wasn't raised in a Christian home, how will I know what God requires if no one will guide me to what Scripture says?

I knew the roles were not to be found 'out there', with society's definition. And so as I studied CHFweb, and listened to Elisabeth Elliot's programmes and read her books. the muddy waters cleared. The phrase 'Titus Two women' became a common one. A revival of sorts occurred in my heart, and with that the freedom and peace of knowing I was where God wanted me to be. It certainly wasn't true that God had nothing to say on the matter, He actually says an awful lot. As months went by I could feel myself growing and learning more, yes peace had settled on my heart.

Fast forward ten years. Not a lot has changed with regard to my role. It is quite clear what Scripture says about women. And yet, if we were to put a set of kitchen scales on the table and put God's truth in one scale, the world would plop their view in the other. And at first glance it might seem we have a choice. And there is a choice of sorts, and yet I'm finding it quite a sad thought that we would look at what God has for us in His 'scale' of Truth and turn our nose up at it, and think 'no, that can't be right, it doesn't look or feel the right way'. If we took God at His Word, and gave up the notion we have a 'choice', but realized His way is always best, and stopped rummaging around to find 'some other way' of doing things. I do believe I would have peace more often.

As months go by there seems to be so many 'good' things that tug at me, needy causes call out my name, till I feel torn, or in times when I have taken on too much, I feel stretched out and thin. These thoughts have made me think again about my priorities and my role. What does God want me to pour my energies into? This was highlighted to me recently with opportunities arising for me to weave some good things into my life, but there was no room for these 'good things' to go on my priority list. And so my priorities are still in order, my eyes still fixed on what I'm meant to do with my time, and peace still reigns in my home.

I read recently on a blog a very simple list of priorities that one homeschool mom keeps. It was so straightforward, you'd almost be tempted to say 'Is that it?'. But, as I read through them, it was obvious it was a totally Biblical list, her priorities were in order, and I could see that her husband and children (and the woman herself) would be so blessed with how she manages her time, her home and energies based on what her priorities are.

Another woman said an interesting quote about being busy. The fact that we can be busy but not necessarily be busy doing the right things. That took me back to my priorities. If I was busy with my priorities I know a lot of 'fluff' would be discarded, a lot of stuff would go undone, I'd have to say 'no' more often. But would I be stressed? I doubt it. Would I be doing the right thing? Yes. Could I end my day with peace? Yes.

Ever since that time so long ago listening every night to Elisabeth Elliot, and drinking in the godly advice on CHFweb, I've had a peace about my position, my role, what the Lord wants me to do. But, do my priorities line up with that? Maybe they do. But, sometimes they don't. Sometimes my priority list is completely backward. Sometimes my actions show that my priority is my children first, then my husband, or others first then my children, or worse still ...others first then my husband!! Then tension comes, strife and weariness. But, in having my priorities in the right order and living my life accordingly, no matter what else calls my name does bring peace. Then there is peace in my position. Not just being at peace because I know this is what He called me to and where God wants me to be, but peace because through my priorities I really am fulfilling that call.

The Daffodils

2010-03-06T09:29:00.000-08:00

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
By William Wordsworth (1770-1850).

Beauty and the Bitterness

2010-02-25T01:36:00.000-08:00

In all of us I think there is a longing for beautiful things. If given the choice of a picnic bench in a park or a chair next to a dustbin lorry, who would choose the latter? My days however are not filled with beautiful things, on the contrary, they are overflowing with clutter, spillages, frowning faces, and grumpy temperaments.

On particularly bad days whilst washing dishes, and looking out of my kitchen window I imagine walking alone up some hill, a rucksack on my back, filled with a flask of tea, snacks and perhaps a good book, drinking in the beauty of His Creation. The wind dancing in my hair whilst lashing my face with its crisp freshness.

Back to reality. One child spills a drink. Another whinges. Looking around the kitchen filled with messy bookcases, dishes still left drying on the drainer, toys overflowing in a tangled mess. None of this is beautiful, intelligent or civil. My heart longs to get away and fill my eyes and my ears with beautiful, soul enriching things.

In steps Bitterness, she does not sleep, she is keen and always on the lookout for a new lodging place. Resentment is like a door that beckons bitterness to come sit a while, she strokes your face and looks with understanding eyes as you verbalize your resentment. But in tenderly stroking your face she reaches for your throat with her other hand, and with a vice like grip has you in her clutches. Resentment of circumstances past and present is truly like an open door letting bitterness sit down and take root.

The door was open as I wrestled with the words of one of my favourite authors. They struck a chord with me when she said pursue beauty, civility and intelligence. I wholeheartedly agreed with her. But, haven't I enough to do without pursuing something else though, I whined? How do the pursuit of beauty, civility, and intelligence practically work out in real life I retorted? In the season I'm in right now, one day rolls into another with little respite I exclaimed, imploring this author to understand how I felt, however I think now though that my imploring was directed more at my Heavenly Father . Am I now going to find myself with yet more things I ought to do, more things to fail at not achieving, more fingers to wag at me for not ticking all the right boxes?

So I mulled and churned these thoughts, determined to wrestle out where I stood and be done with it. In so doing it occurred to me that my expectations are high. My imagination runs wild. I find that in this pursuit of beauty I imagine I am at an art gallery in France, or a hillside cafe in Scotland, or perhaps at an opera watching Les Miserables.

I recall the same author once said "adjust your expectations to your limitations", and I think her wise words come into play here too. It would have been so very easy to feel under condemnation from her words on beauty. She has blessed me so much over the years. And sadly for a good while I did feel a form of condemnation creeping over me. Here lies the problem of trying to line up with one person's ideals. Our schedules, family, children, financial position, etc.. are different.

So, I began to think about my limitations, my 'life' arrangements. I am at home alone mon-fri, 8:00-5:30 with four children. So how do I pursue beauty, civility, and intelligence in such an environment. I can almost hear laughter, what a preposterous idea, that environment evokes images that are complete opposites in my mind. So, I shall try and stifle the laughter and just admit that that is my limitation. Now I can be real, bring in those wild imaginations of mine, and tame the idea that being away from my children in peace and quiet is the only way to pursue beauty, civility, and intelligence.

Think small, forget the countryside cafe in the middle of nowhere sipping tea and eating scones. Think eating scones with the children. Make a mini tea party for them and with them. Make your own scones or let the children make them. The latter will likely be anything but beautiful, but the memory will be. And so ideas began to grow. Such simple things that are probably normal in some households, but to a harried homeschool mom go by the by. A table cloth, a vase of flowers, the table set properly. Little things.

Just this morning I looked out on the garden and noticed the daffodil bulbs coming up, and as glorious as they are in full bloom, seeing them this frosty morning was a form of beauty to me, and of hope. And before the week is through I shall buy a bunch of daffodils for our table. I've remembered to buy seed for the birds and again this morning stepped out onto the crunchy, frozen grass to provide a feast for them. Lots of people feed the birds of course, but to sit, watch and think as those delightful creatures fill their tummies is a different thing.

And so Resentment's door has closed, bitterness did not get chance to sit down, but Beauty did instead.

Prisoner

2010-02-03T02:05:00.000-08:00

It would seem that the theme of my days of late has been that of slavery. The word evokes many pictures in my mind. A prison, shackles, tiredness, and hard labour. The concentration camps of WWII. Oppression. The strangulation of life itself. And yet slavery doesn't end life in one foul swoop does it? But, by tiny degrees it slowly kills you. Encroaching on every facet of your very being, until you are utterly a prisoner even in your own body.

I heard a sermon recently that accurately described what does not happen when you get saved. The preacher said, Jesus does not save you from your sin, release you from prison and then lead you into another prison cell. The teacher said it more eloquently than I just did, but that aside, what he pointed out was so true. And yet I'm not sure anyone gets saved, becomes free and immediately walks deliberately into another cell, but that is where we often find ourselves...where I found myself. Could it be a sort of slow 'moving in' happens, not instantly but by increments? A chain here a chain there. Maybe over many years, picking things up and slowly binding ourselves until we may as well have gone from one cell to another.

My yoke is easy, Jesus said. My burden is light. It can become apparent when we read this how many chains we've actually acquired. Easy and light? Then why I am stressed out, why does a frown grace my temple, why do I feel weighed down? A drifting has occurred, a drifting out from under God's beautiful grace to an unkeepable law. A law that will slowly choke the life out of you as it removes the very Saviour and Redeemer from your sight, by blinding you with shackles.

Truth sets you free. So why do I feel condemned, why don't I measure up, am I a failure? With the subtle removal of Jesus, yes, yes you are condemned, you don't measure up, and you are a failure. With our foolish efforts to be and do and say the right thing, the 'godly' thing, to make sure we tick all the right boxes of what man's own idea of godliness looks like, be it healthy eating to whether you keep the Sabbath. When these become the standard of measure, the checklist of real Christianity that separates the spiritual Christians from the 'lesser' Christians we have truly signed up for slavery again. Though I don't believe there is any such thing as a 'lesser Christian', you're either saved or you are not. Your spirituality is not based on *you*.

Is it any wonder that the yoke we carry becomes heavy, the burden a crushing weight upon our backs, we are carrying a man made, Pharisaical yoke. We are like Christian who had that great sack removed from his back upon a look at the Saviour. But, what we often do is pick another up and strap it to ourselves, and in so doing deny the very truth of the Gospel. We rarely pick another huge burden up after getting saved though, they are picked up over many years, myriads of little things that are placed in our sack, until we stop and look and question our weariness,in light of Scripture. Freedom has been replaced with another burdensome bag upon our backs and it was not meant to be.

I had said that slavery has been the theme of my days lately. But it has been replaced by freedom. No, not freedom to sin, not freedom to ignore His voice, not freedom to do 'whatever I want to do'. For when you know that Jesus took your place, the great debt that you owed He took as His own and in exchange gave you His life, you do not find yourself in a place of freedom to sin. I had enslaved myself to man's little rules, drowning in my inability to line up with them, yes His yoke was not easy, because it was not His, it was mans. To have that removed, to see Truth again means His yoke is easy on my back and His burden is light.

An Obsession. Part Two.

2010-01-08T00:59:00.000-08:00

Of late I've been feeling like an old woman. I think this is due to the harsh weather that has settled in to keep us all company. A keen reminder from The Weather Maker, that it is still winter. And so most evenings this week I have been nestled in the corner of my settee with a huge blanket covering me from my shoulders to my toes (I am seriously considering buying a Slanket) and have hardly moved all evening from my warm cocoon. Gone is the idea of keeping warm and looking stylish - not that I ever did anyway. But, keeping warm is the main goal. And so I feel old.

Whilst shivering in my corner, my mind has been taken on a journey that has blocked out the freezing temperatures. It is an amusing thing when one can sympathise with Winnie the Pooh. I too get fluff in my ears when I have a good book. Everything else around me goes all fuzzy and I don't 'hear' so well. In a small way it reminds me of the start of Prince Caspian when the children are being 'pulled' back into Narnia. However when I'm immersed in a fictional world, and someone talks to me the opposite happens, and I get 'pulled' back into the real world.

And so onto my other obsession with Andrew Peterson. I like books. I like fantasy fiction. However, it must be a good story. The author needs to be a good storyteller. And much like my music tastes I suppose, I'm not about to buy every title that falls into the fantasy fiction genre. Of course it must be a terribly difficult type of fiction to write. With giants like Tolkien and Lewis to compete with. The urge to compare 'new' fantasy fiction to them is hard to resist. And likewise the urge for authors to copy them must also be hard.

And so in steps Andrew Peterson again. The covers were what intrigued me at first. I liked the covers. And now that I have the books in my possession, I also like how the books feel in my hands (there is nothing worse than having a good book with a bad feel!).

The Wingfeather Series has surprised me. I hoped they'd be good, but deep (almost as deep as the Dark Sea of Darkness) down I had fears that Peterson's book would be a rehashing of The Chronicles of Narnia. But, to my delight they are nothing like Lewis' classic. The past week I have thoroughly immersed myself in the world of Anniera and its characters. And despite winter's fingers clawing at me in the real world, my mind has been taken on such an adventure, that I have not wanted to put the book down and go to bed. A page turner if ever there was one, such interesting characters, laugh out loud moments, and even at times tears have filled my eyes.

As often happens when reading fantasy fiction my awe of the Bible and more specifically God Himself just seems to soar. The Bible would be the greatest in its genre if it were fiction. Obviously it isn't fiction or fantasy. But an amazing story, filled with adventure, amazing characters, tears and joy. And to be living in such a story, His-story almost blows my mind.

On the Edge of the Deep Sea of Darkness does start slowly, but I was so glad I had ordered the second book North or Be Eaten, as it would have been agony to finish book one and not have book two already by my side. It is almost painful to think that the third book probably won't be published till the end of the year. And yet despite the slow start mentioned earlier, I can't wait to re-read the first book and savour those first few chapters. I remember a similar feeling with Lord of the Rings, I sped through the book so fast and was dreadfully bogged down in the chapter of Elrond's Council, but now it's a delight to read, and I can see The Wingfeather Saga becoming one I go back to again and again.

Yes, my obsession with Andrew Peterson is a good one.

An Obsession. Part One.

2010-01-05T02:17:00.000-08:00

I have a bit of obsession of late. An obsession with Andrew Peterson. Well, to be more precise, an obsession with his music and books.

All sorts of music fills my cd rack. Celtic, rock, classical, pop and folk. I've long since outgrown the infantile idea that to gain pleasure from more than one genre of music is treason of the highest order. To be sure, I won't listen to just 'anything', but overall my tastes are as varied as the contents of a box of Thornton's chocolates.

Of course, being a chocolate lover has many disadvantages, but being a music lover has no downsides. It enriches your heart, lifts your spirits, makes you think and can make you dance both inwardly and outwardly. And so in steps, Andrew Peterson. At first his music seems to filled with pretty chord changes, and happy melodies, all of which are good things, and are the very things that drew me to him in the first place. Often however once one has gotten past the pretty sound your ears hear, there is little substance when it comes to lyrics. Of course sweet songs with little lyrical meat have their place, but oh what a difference when a pleasant tune can be eaten as it were. Perhaps a suitable comparison would be that of a Christmas dinner with all the trimmings next to a bag of strawberry laces. It is a good sign when you can read the lyrics of a song and be moved by them, and not just the tickle the music gave to your ears.

Folk music is Andrew Peterson's style of music. A true feast of words and melody. His music stirs my inner being, can almost make me cry, gives me great peace in reminding me of our wonderful God and all that He has done for me and all men. One of my favourite songs at present is called, Lay Me Down, and upon first hearing this song it can seem quite sad and morbid. But, a closer listen and look at the lyrics prove otherwise. "When you lay me down to die you lay me down to live". Such a simple line, and yet it gives me so much to think about. And so I have an obsession with, Andrew Peterson. His music enriches my day, no, his music enriches my soul.

How Long?

2010-01-04T01:04:00.000-08:00

It's the time of year (as it has always been) of new beginnings, fresh starts and high hopes. My mind drifted to blogging. Why do it? I love putting thoughts to paper or screen as it were. And yet I am my own worst enemy in this and many other areas. Were it not for my scatterbrain mind I may have accomplished many things by now, not least the keeping of this blog. And so it is with renewed determination that I write and hopefully shall continue writing.

UR

2009-02-26T04:40:00.000-08:00

What fear rumbles inside of me, and how ridiculous it is. Ur of the Chaldeans- Oh how I love that Abraham left his UR ....his Usual Routine.

But, they are so comfortable, they are easy, and no one "jolts" me or makes me feel uncomfortable. I don't have to think too hard in my UR, its' safe there, I wont get judged or lauged at in my UR. I won't make a fool of myself in my usual routine. There isn't much fear in my UR, I can be myself ..good and bad.., but push me out of my UR and I'm scared to be me.

All I can think is how proud that is, *I* should be the last thing on my mind.

Breaking Free - I would like to get that book, whether it's applicable or not...I imagine that breaking free from my UR is akin to how I feel, like a snake shedding its skin, or a butterfly leaving the "worm" behind.

Breaking free my UR.

Fireproof

2009-02-21T10:28:00.000-08:00

It was a bit of a risk ....a "Christian" film....would it be any good? I can answer with a resounding - Yes!

With all the usual contents of a typical film - humour, sadness, laughter and peril and a truly needed theme, Fireproof surprised me, gave me a lot to think about, a lot to be thankful for and left me and my husband talking for a long time after.

Whether your single, married for 60 years, engaged, have a terrible marriage, or a brilliant marriage, Fireproof really has a lot to say to everyone, aswell as a beautiful message of salvation weaved throughout.

So, after praying........

2009-02-11T05:12:00.000-08:00

for a long time that God would work in our lives and show us a church or fellowship to go to, knowing so keenly that something was missing - God wasn't missing, He is right here with me, but a solitary island is no place for a believer. Six months after being very sceptical of Beth Moore (she is from Texas - and soooo many U.S. ministries are DODGY!) - I found her to be sound, challenging, encouraging, convicting and so many other things that if I had said "I shall eat my hat if she is Biblical".......well I would have eaten it a long time ago!

I am rather amazed at how God has planned things out. Surely there are no Bible based churches left, they are either wishy washy, or just plain unBiblical. So, while watching every episode of Wednesdays with Beth, reading her entire blog to see what she was like, and buying a few books, and still asking God to sort the "church" business out. Into our path comes a church - a cute church to be sure, an old Wesleyan chapel, planted where the man himself used to stand and preach. It is no longer a methodist church, but an independant Baptist church.

Why would this see amazing, well maybe I'm easy to please.....but our first meeting was an AGM...what a terrible night to go to a church for the first time, but in the notices it was announced the starting of a Beth Moore (The Patriarchs) study in 3 weeks for the ladies and a John MacArthur study for the men. Was it an accident. I don't think so. If I hadn't for the past 6 months been checking LPM ministries out - I wouldn't have paid any attention to what Bible studies the church was having. But to me those two names said something about the leadership in the church, and it was a positive thing. There is NO way I would have gone out of my way to go to a ladies Bible study on a wet/cold/snowy night last monday if I had not known a hoot about Beth Moore. But I did, I have studied her - and she has pointed me to Jesus.

This is the first Beth Moore study I have been too, and I was struck by the introduction where she says "It is no mistake that you are here". I thought "you are spot on there Mrs Moore"!!! I would not have been there if I hadn't known who you were, I would not have been there if I hadn't been 100% (and I do mean a 100%) sure of a Bible based study, and I was sure, so I went.

If a door like this one had opened 10 months ago I wouldn't have gone through.

A door opened after 6 months of being a Berean on Beth Moore, and I walked through.

Whether the church itself is the one where He wants us remains to be seen, but what better way to see where they are coming from than in a Bible study. It amazes me....I would never have gone to a midweek ladies Bible study just to see what a church was like.

The door opened...

So Excited!

2009-02-02T06:58:00.000-08:00

I'm now on my third Bible memory verse - Isaiah 41:10. I'm still astonished at how exiting it is. I truly wish I could speak to Beth Moore and the team at LPM and thankyou them for the challenge and the effort of keeping me on my toes. What better treasure to collect in one's mind than God's Word.

2009-01-23T01:33:00.000-08:00

Friday. Ah, Friday, I love Friday. It speaks to me of rest, and a sort of untangling of the week, shaking it off, and just smoothing out all the ruffles of the week. There is still work to do at this time of the day, but the unwinding has begun.

Wrestling Words

2009-01-20T00:57:00.000-08:00

Words of people, words of Scripture. It seems I'm wrestling with both at the minute, though the latter I'm not so much wrestling with, but trying to understand. Trying to match the words of people with the words of Scripture and getting two different outcomes - it seems it has been the way for all Christians throughout the ages. I need God's wisdom on this one, I certainly can't do it on my own

Having started Bible memorization with the LPM blog I am still amazed by it. As soon as I practice my new verse (Joshua 1:9), out comes my previous verse Is. 54:10. And how much of it can be applied to my current state of turmoil is quite breathtaking. "Do not tremble or be dismayed" is part of my new verse, and how very easy it is for me to tremble and be dismayed right now.

I so want to know the Creator, not just as a "thing" out there somewhere up in the sky. If knowing Jesus is a relationship - which it is, and such a precious one, for those who are born again, then I want that. Oh, Amazing - that He would even let feeble me know Him. It reminds me of a Downhere song...it's a Christmas song, but the words are so true, the words escape me now, but the gist of it is "How many Kings stepped down from their throne...."

Yes, to know Him as I know my children, to talk with Him like I talk with my husband. To know that He cares for me and would stoop so, so low to just to get me is almost too much to bear. Oh I believe, Lord help my unbelief.

Wrestling Words

2009-01-19T09:02:00.000-08:00

Impossible! I think it is impossible, and probably one reason why the tongue is sharper than a two edged sword - if I try and wrestle with with words, I get cut and the scar lasts a long time.

Let's be honest

2008-11-26T14:22:00.000-08:00

.....today has been a truly awful day. One of those days when I shake my head, look round at my children, and then look up to God and say "What an earth am I doing - do You really think I can pull this off". I know now........now that the children are tucked in bed, and I have had tea and a twirl........I know now that of course He thinks I can pull it off, or more accurately - He will pull it off through me. How easy to say.

I had a loud sing to myself in the backroom this evening to try and push this melancholy feeling away from me. I shut all the doors, put the surround sound on, and joined Mandisa in proclaiming "It's Only the World". What a great song to get rid of the blues..and praise the Lord at the same time.

Okay...

2008-11-23T06:00:00.000-08:00

I'm getting the hang of it now, what do you think of the painting? My mind has gone blank with regard to who painted it - a famous Tolkien artist that I do know, but which one.....nope can't remember.

As for Dernhelm's Realm today - well it is dark, rain filled November afternoon outside. But, in here, next to the oven that is cooking my very favorite potato scallops - it is warm, and apart from the dishes to be washed sitting next to me, it is a pleasant afternoon.