Consider the lilies

 

They couldn’t wait, their eyes focused on me – the one who could open the door.  The softie that I am, I caved.  I opened the door, the refreshing, cool breeze welcoming me to life. My little girls – cats- rushed passed me, giving me a gleeful “meow” in passing.

I had too much to do, but the bright sunshine beckoned me.  And had we yet seen a more gorgeous day, experienced a more radiant display of God’s goodness and warmth since Thanksgiving?  No, in fact, it has been that long.  So, I put on my running shoes, gathered the cats back inside to safety, and took advantage of a day that might not come again for a few more weeks.  I took a walk down the street.

It seemed that I had opened my eyes for the first time in so long and perhaps I had.  Maybe I had been walking with my head down against the cold for far too long.  Now, with my head held high, I breathed deeply and noticed all the lovely things that life endows.  The trees still bare, danced in the spring breeze and two purple crocuses sprang from a small patch of dirt, waiting for others to join them.  I spotted the plastic markers where neighbors had planted spring flowers, reminding them which flower would grow and if they should be planted in the partial shade or in full sun.  A manger scene still displayed at my favorite house.  Possibly they had fallen prey to the busy life, as well.

I walked and prayed, thanking God for His amazing artwork, for His provisions and His hand in my own life.  I pondered the simple things that distract us, the things that don’t allow us times like these more often.  Times to reflect, praise, ask forgiveness and just marvel at God’s creation. And in that moment, I wondered why.  Why do I worry about so much?

I’ve really been “considering the lilies” lately.  Considering the frivolous things that we worry about, things that hinder us from a purpose-filled life, from abundant living.  Why do we worry? 

As soon as I returned home, I let the girls out again.  They were much appreciative.  Charlotte chased after a leaf that had succumbed to the wind.  Libby sat in peaceful contemplation on the back porch, her nose in the air, sniffing.  I stood in the middle of the yard, observing our rickety fence and the ivy that grows in the corner.  And something came over me.  I just had to do a cartwheel and so I did.  Then again.  I suddenly realized I wasn’t 15 anymore as my wrists hurt, but somehow it had a freeing effect.  Like being a child again. 

Consider the lilies, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin; but I tell you, not even Solomon in all his glory clothed himself like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass in the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the furnace, how much more will He clothe you? You men of little faith! And do not seek what you will eat and what you will drink, and do not keep worrying. 

Luke 12:27-29

Be still my soul

It’s been an unusual week for me.  I’m on Spring Break from my usual college interpreting schedule which means no structure for me.  Which means I’m home more.  Which means I don’t know what to do with myself. 

My mind raced from making time for myself to when I should paint my house to cleaning the basement to practicing for a big test I’ll be taking in a week.  In the end, I did nothing from the said list.  Don’t get me wrong.  I did some really good things this past week like spend time with friends and participate in our Good Friday service.  But, I felt restless, distracted.  I didn’t accomplish all I had hoped and more importantly, being the week before Easter, I hadn’t really emersed myself in the celebration that should have been taking place in my heart. 

When I finally stopped for a moment, I heard the whisper, “Let go.  Rejoice.”

 . . . I have stilled and quieted my soul,

like a weaned child with its mother,

like a weaned child is my soul within me.

Psalm 131:2

Depending on hope

“Hosanna!”

“Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”

“Blessed is the King of Israel!” 

      I sat in Sr. High Sunday School on Palm Sunday, listening to my husband teach about the triumphal entry.  Every year I hear this account.  I accept it.  I thank God for sending his son into the world.  And I go about my day.  But this Palm Sunday was different.

“Those same people that praised Jesus for promising to be their savior, wanted to crucify him a week later.  The same people that laid down palm branches for his triumphal entry, would soon demand his death.  And why?  They were disappointed that he had not fulfilled his promise.  They felt deceived.  They lost hope and trust.” 

Wow, I thought.  They lost hope that quickly?  I never really thought of it in that way.  I just thought they were angry at Jesus  . . . well, just because he claimed to be something big and wonderful.  But, no it was more than that.  They felt lied to, impatient for the promise Jesus had made that now went unfulfilled. 

Maybe having been raised in church, I didn’t study that passage too carefully.  I took it for granted.  I didn’t apply it to my life until this week.

 I had prayed for something – something worthy and good, God honoring and beautiful.  I had waited weeks, months, years and no answer.  No fulfillment of what I had hoped for, what I thought God wanted me to have.  I was thinking these very thoughts, sitting in the corner of a ladies lounge at a David Crowder concert when she approached .  I was tired, annoyed that I had to stand for the past hour and a half and didn’t want to be bothered.   

“It’s hot out there, huh?”  She said, attempting conversation.

“No, not really.  I’m comfortable.”  I said, looking back down at my Blackberry, surfing the internet.

“Hi, I’m Claire.”

“Nice to meet you.  I’m Susan.”  I gave a stab at being polite.  But, she started to giggle. 

“I know your name is Susan. God told me.” 

Okay, where are the guys in white coats?, I thought.  Loony!

“Is that so?”  As proof, she showed me a piece of paper with my name written out so I could see that it wasn’t a hoax.  I still doubted. 

“I’m not sure what this means to you, but God told me to come over here and give you a word from him.”  She went on to read a passage of scripture that spoke so pointedly to my situation that it was eery.  She ended by saying, “And Susan, I – Love – You. (from God)”  Tears filled my eyes, and then I quickly snapped out of it.

“Are you sure you didn’t hear someone say my name?” I asked.

“No, I promise!  God told me.” She said, open hand to heart.  “Susan, is there something you’ve been asking God for?”

“If you only knew!” I snorted and then went on to reveal my pressing prayer request. 

Her eyes seem to smile as she said, ”Well, now is the time to rejoice!  It’s going to happen.”

That was in November.  What I have been praying for has still not come to pass.  I’ve lost hope, regained hope, cried and been angry at God.  Am I so different from those that praised God when all was going well and they still believed?  Does my faith depend on his fulfillment of my happiness? Am I laying down palms of praise only to swipe them away a week later, impatient and unwilling to wait?

I think it’s always important to remember that God’s timing is so different from our own, so very different.  And does He really need to send us an angel or a sign?  I suppose that’s just an extra bonus. 

A cozy place

Cats:  May we help you?

Mom:  Why must it always be the CLEAN clothes basket???

Let there be light!

We still didn’t have power this morning and spent a very chilly night cuddled up next to each other, trying to generate warmth.  I was tempted to grab a kitty and squeeze her all night, but I knew she wouldn’t have that. Instead, my husband was kind enough to tolerate my chin in his back.

I heard the voices outside this morning, the rhythmic beep of a truck backing up.  Thank God!  The must be fixing it, I thought.  Then, I saw the utility truck drive by our house and up the street.  Still no power.  That’s not good. 

So, it must have happened while we were in church this morning.  That’s right – I went to church without a shower.  I have a new appreciation for hot water.  There was no way I was taking an ice cold shower in a frigid house. 

In the dark

   I’m sitting here in the dark, and my only source of power is this computer.  Apparently a transformer blew on our street a few hours ago while we were at church.  I returned to this dark house, and made quick business of lighting candles.  The walls creek around me as it is a very windy night, and the Christmas trees in our back yard are silhouetted by the light from the church only a few feet away.  Yeah – there is electricity a few feet away, but not in our humble abode. 

So, I type and wait for the battery in this computer to die.  Because there is nothing else to do but sit in the dark and wait for my husband to come home, I blog about the darkness, the calm and the quiet.  My flashlight sits in the corner, illuminating a spot on the wall.   There are almost ten candles that flicker in the peaceful quiet of this house.  My reflection stares back me in the window while the trees sway and the wind howls. 

Kitty Quest

Something shuffles in the darkness, a presence along the length of the bed.  Slippers loosely falling to the ground.  My husband.

“Hi.” I say

“Hi.” He returns. “You okay?”

“I had a bad dream.” I say, catching my breath from the realness of my nightmare.

“Oh yeah?” Husband waits.

“Yeah, I dreamed C. (cat #1) got outside and into a fight with another cat.  Then, she wouldn’t come back inside and I couldn’t find her. . . . have you seen her recently?”

I hear feet wrestling into slippers again. A robe that had momentarily been slipped off tired shoulders now pulled awkwardly on again.  A light goes on in the distance.  The hall light.  With eyes half open, I see his blurry figure disappear from view as he checks under the bed. 

“No, I haven’t.”  He sounds concerned.  “Did you see her before you went to bed?”

I can’t remember.  “Ummmm . . . . I think so . . . I’m not sure.”

We had just had company over – a church meeting.  Did she escape while the door remained open and stragglers chatted in the doorway, heat escaping?  Did C. find her way out amidst a tangle of legs and careless conversation?  My pulse began to quicken. 

My husband looked behind velvet drawn curtains that pooled onto the carpet, in the master bathroom cluttered with hair products and magazines and behind every door that held a shadow.   He took one last look in the closets, shoes scattered here and there, a shirt that had fallen from the top shelf.  No kitty.

“I’m sure she’s hiding somewhere.”  I tell him, sorry for his fruitless quest when I know he just wants to go to sleep.  I look at the clock.  It’s 1:45.  I imagine kitty in the cold, shivering.  Not knowing what to do.  Confused at her owners seeming refusal to let her back into the warmth.

Soon I hear feet landing on stairs, my husband continuing his search.  Oh, I love this man!  I love this man for caring so.

The back door opens, then the front. Cabinets squeak open and slam shut.  Finally, his footsteps are again on the stairs.  He must have found her, I think. 

“Find her?”

“No. If she were outside, she would have come as soon as I opened the door.”  And he was right. So, he doesn’t stop there. 

He decides to make a more careful check of my closet.  I see it before he does.  Two beady eyes peeping sleepily from a box of unused purses and bags.  Amid canvas and vinyl, kitty sits watching it all, not caring to let us know of her whereabouts. 

I laugh and then he laughs.  I take a picture, of course.  We’re both laughing as he turns out the lights, shaking his head.  His hand pats my thigh as he folds himself into the warmth of cotton sheets. 

I love you.

I love you, too.

Happiness

Maybe it’s just the Grande Skim Iced Mocha talking, but I am having a good day and I just have to say . . .

Thank God for waking up to snowy days that give way to sunshine.  For girl dates, mani/pedis, Starbucks and happy nail polish colors such as Margarita Pink and Bubble Bath.  Hot pink underwear that don white and orange flowers, especially on dull winter days.  Dark chocolate in a variety of flavors – cranberry, blueberry, toffee and almond.  For cafes that have wifi.  Poets like Anne Sexton that speak randomly and get my creativity flowing.  Books so good that you lose yourself. Work weeks when I know I’ll have pockets of extra time.  Bright, vivid colors and the lights of a city so close to home. Friends that you never forget although you are far away and haven’t spoken in months.  A childhood that has given me such a strong foundation for a happy adulthood.  Cats that tolerate your constant kissing, cuddling and occasionally return the affection by loving you so much they drool.  A husband that is too busy to come to bed at the same time as me, but never lets me doubt his love.  For the freedom of a freelance job and being able to talk to a people group that so many can’t. Hands that write and sign, love and help.  For health and special memories of loved ones that you can’t possibly forget.  Random smiles on treadmills while at the gym, a passing happy thought.  Thank God for faith and meditation, for never feeling alone. 

 Thank God.