christian living, faith walk, life experience, parenting, Prayer, relationships, resilience
Seasons change. Suitcases packed, sitting by the door, and ready for the car. Intimidating thoughts creep into my mind as the last bag gets zipped shut: “What am I forgetting?” “Have I taught her enough?” Much less “When will we see each other again?” The frantic double checking of pre-departure. Exhilaration and emotional fragility mingled together. This wasn’t an unfamiliar scenario for us. Our older two kids had already departed, attended college and graduated into their next seasons.
Fall’s cooler nights were right around the corner. The cycle of shorter days and pre-dormancy leaf drop. All reminders of how I felt saying farewell to my youngest daughter. Her joy had been a constant brightness to my days. I struggled to imagine my house in a quiet, dormant state.
Preparing a child for life out in the big world is what we, as parents, do – often without realizing it- in every season of their life. However, it gets masked by schedules, activities and so much “right now” that the tomorrows of adulthood seem far away. Somehow, as my kids arrived at the midpoint of their high school years, the reality of the “next” season hit me. Questions flying through my mind: “Can they do laundry or grocery shop?” “Will they be good with their money?” Like cramming for a test last minute, these questions only brought anxiety, as there was little time left to implement extra training.
It’s a subtle tactic of the enemy to get us distracted from a sacred moment of blessing our kids into their future. I was stuck dwelling on what I might have missed in the past. If the enemy has me worrying about something behind me, how attentive am I to what is right in front of me?
Sending my first two children off to the independence of college life was hard, but different from this youngest child, who chose a school not just out of state, but across the country. Her choice was good, and we were excited for her. However, there would be no hopping in the car to attend a concert or school activity. This farewell was not a “See you in a couple of weeks” scenario. We packed for a short drive to the airport but a long separation after takeoff.
There was a finality to this departure. I remember our house feeling void of conversation and laughter. Meals for two instead of the 3 plus that came with her friend circle. No sounds of life from her bedroom. No extra shoes by the front door. Just an unusual silence. We were entering an unknown season. A season she had been expecting, and I was equally dreading.
Winter’s drop in temperature was no match for my cold emotions as I realized how unprepared I felt for this time and how to fill it. The question of what I would do with my newfound “free” time hadn’t had a moment to marinate in my mind. I was preoccupied with the here and now. I had given no thought to the rebirthing of my long dormant visions of writing. But seasons change whether or not we are ready.
The Old Testament (Genesis 37, 39-46) tells of a boy with a glorious coat of marvelous colors who received visions from God that seemed oddly out of place for his age. Jealous brothers stopped the boy’s fantastical dreaming by dropping him in a pit. From pit, to prison, to palace, God’s vision given to Joseph was unfolding in ways he never envisioned for himself.
An avid scrapbook mom when all my kids were home, I spent precious hours documenting their life in pictures. It had been a great joy for me. As the graduation for our youngest neared, the calendar reminded me there was much on my scrapbooking to do list that might not get done. Life had moved so quickly that I wasn’t keeping up with my expectation of completed memory books. After she left for college, I thought the urge to complete the books would return, but it faded. I couldn’t make myself work on the project I had so passionately enjoyed before. I was grieving and lost all desire to relive the memories or creatively preserve them. Eventually, a sheet was used to cover my work area. Out of sight, out of mind, but still heavy on my heart.
Winter was a struggle for me. Loneliness and sad days. Lots of tears. Loving long naps more than connecting with others. I wasn’t prepared for the depth of loss I felt, no longer being the mom who interacted with her kids every day. Like Joseph, I wasn’t prepared for this next season.
As spring flowers began their bold arrival in my yard, so too was a new hope growing in my heart. I tried to trust God’s infinite wisdom even when I couldn’t see what was ahead. Life transitions naturally come with questions about the future and all the unknowns. I hoped the Lord would share a future page with me. Just a brief glimpse. Instead, He called me to wait, just as I waited for His created seasons to reveal themselves in my yard.
Summer arrived like the rush of warmth when the oven door opens, wafting out the fragrance of fresh baked bread. Sustenance from the Bread of Life. Longer days and perhaps a clearer vision of what this new season might hold for me. Words long dormant resurfaced in my heart and on paper. While empty scrapbook pages still rested untouched, my written thoughts had found their way – by God’s design alone – into an encouragement for others. His vision for my writing, born in a season of young children and with no time to develop it, found its summer of growth as only God could have orchestrated. But I had to live the yesterday’s and today’s to get to the tomorrow of the Lord’s design.
Joseph had no way of knowing what the Lord would engineer out of his vision to pit to prison to palace life. But God had promised that one day Israel would produce a Savior. Joseph was in that lineage, a vision orchestrated by Almighty God, to provide us all with our Messiah and Redeemer.
- Is there a vision planted in your heart that is waiting to be birthed into reality?
- Are you trusting that the Lord is more than able to bring it about in His time?
- Can you be grateful amid a season that feels like winter’s dark days?
- Can you believe that the God of creation is still writing your story?
I am grateful for the winter. I can trust there are more words, more pages, completed chapters – all to come. In the slower seasons of apparent dormancy, the Lord has not abandoned us, but like the seeds that sprout in season, like Joseph in the pit, prison or palace, we are being formed into His likeness and at a time of His choosing – life will spring forth. Hope renewed and He will restore our joy.
Ecclesiastes 3:1-11 “…to everything there is a season…”
Article first posted as a guest blog for Michele Wilbert. Thank you Michele!
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christian living, faith walk, God first, Prayer, spirituality
I fall into the category of people who find it hard to ask for help, advice, input or feedback. My short list: pride, shame, fear or rejection for lack of perfection. I get so focused on what I can to do to “fix” my current situation that I loose sight of the One who calls me to relationship with Himself. He calls me to come. To worship. To rest. To know Him better. Matthew 7: 7 – 8 says that when I ask, seek, and knock, there will be a response from my good Father in Heaven. “Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks it will be opened.” The God of the universe, Creator of all things, including you and I, knows how needy we are. He knows our shortcomings. Which is why he made it plain as day- we will need to ask. He’s promising He’ll be there to hear and answer. Ask away dear one. Ask. Seek Him in His Word. Don’t hesitate to knock – His, is an open door policy. No shame, no guilt, no lack of perfection will turn his eyes from you. No matter what. Jesus paid it all. He has you covered!
christian living, faith walk, God first, impatience, resilience
Like a beaver out to win a logging competition, I attacked my shrubs with a vengeance. My tool of choice, a Hedge trimmer. The two-foot bar of steel teeth whirring back and forth, open cut, open cut; devouring anything caught between the sharp blades, making quick work of the pruning task. I told myself all the branches hanging over the driveway had to go. Although I encourage the natural growth pattern of plants and allow them to find their own shape, even this felt out of control. I pointed the Hedge trimmer to line up with the planter’s edge and turned the power on. It was a drastic move that gave a severe outcome. With a blur of blades, task complete, and the shrub no longer hung over the driveway. Perhaps I enjoy power tools a little too much.
Choices and consequences. A moment of haste, and well….
The now exposed undergrowth was dull and leafless. I wasn’t really going for the midwinter brown, bare-branched look. The indiscriminate Hedge trimmer removed all the greenery. In my haste to get caught up on yard work, my efforts looked choppy and extreme.
Quick, yes, but….
All the things I know to be true about caring for and tending to plants flash across my mind as I stare at the result of my impatient choice. There is a way to prune a shrub that doesn’t leave such scars on the exterior but-it takes more time.
What I know and what I do, don’t always align…
I’ve seen the skillful touch of a master gardener finding individual branches and clipping below the surface, leaving healthy plant life on the exterior. In my humanity and haste, I get frustrated and impatient. Instead of following the lessons of the master gardener, who gently prunes with a snip here and a snip there, I want radical change yesterday, so I end up creating a naked bush, begging for a do-over or at least a different gardener.
For tools, any tool will do, right?
So maybe the Hedge trimmer wasn’t the right tool for this job. The raw evidence of a job done in haste revealed my impatience. I assure myself that the plant will sprout new leaves and cover my rash decision, but hindsight reminds me, I could have chosen a different tool.
Bigger isn’t always better…
My garage is full of tools of varying sizes and purposes. Shovels, rakes, power trimmers, leaf blowers, edgers, loppers and pole saws. My favorite, the hand pruner is small, maybe 7 inches total. It has a sharp curved blade that cuts clean through small branches.
Precision is priceless…
I also know the Master Gardener for being precise. His aim is sure. He doesn’t lay bare everything in my life all at once. In His mercy and grace, He tends to my soul with finesse. He does not use a hedge trimmer on my wayward growth patterns. He carefully, thoughtfully because he knows, and loves me – reaches into the shrub that is my life and snips a little here and trims a little there. Taking his time to nurture and encourage new growth patterns in me.
Patience is a virtue, but I’m in too much of a hurry…
I need to learn it anew, Lord. Slow my pace. Teach me to believe your methods are for my good and your glory. Challenge me to trust your wisdom and the tools of your choosing.
James 1:5 If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him.
James 3:17 But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, open to reason, full of mercy and good fruits, impartial and sincere.
John 15:1-2 I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinedresser. Every branch in me that does not bear fruit he takes away, and every branch that does bear fruit he prunes, that it may bear more fruit.
faith walk, forgotten, parenting, perseverance, relationships, resilience
Celebrated days are messy middle days–joy for one, heartache for another.
Looking for the right words to express both-and.
Deep love and appreciation. Humbled by grace and hardened by grief.
Mixed Feelings. Raw emotions.
Loss. Longing. Joy and thanksgiving.
Empty in one relationship. Full in another.
A scale that isn’t balanced.
Expectations. Emotions. Decisions. High mountains. Low valleys.
Mom, daughter, sister, auntie, step-daughter, daughter-in-law, grandma, and the generations go.
Not all celebrated relationships are direct relations.
Embrace what you can.
Sometimes, in the anguish of reality, a brightness warms the night.
Be a light. Walk in the light, it brings hope to darkness.
An experience or individual that shapes us, love of another–
a mother: by choice, by circumstance, or by heart.
From a distance, in your dreams and wishes, in reality and in loss.
Whatever place your mind dwells, on this day of celebrating motherhood,
may you find peace in the imperfection of this life. Joy on your journey,
And grace for the hard, the healing and the hopeful.
christian living, faith walk, forgotten, friendship, life experience, relationships, resilience, spirituality
I didn’t know “seasonal” could describe friendship or that not all friendships last a lifetime.
In my mid-twenties & struggling to understand recent friendship shifts, I observed my mother, a time-tested military wife. She had moved many times, and didn’t have a bestie or a group of gal-pals she reached back to as she was transplanted again. She started where she was, propagating new friendships and cultivating hospitality.
At first, I was sad for her. But my feelings didn’t match her emotions. She wasn’t sad. She had learned to embrace the changes that came with the military lifestyle. Settled and friends took on new meaning. She inwardly mourned the loss of what had been and outwardly embraced the now. She welcomed unfamiliar faces into every home in my memory.
She lived Ecclesiastes 3: There’s a time for every activity under the sun. Like the illustration of planting and harvesting, my mom planted seeds of friendship in the soil of each location.
Do these thoughts about friendship and seasons stir emotions in you?
Have you worked the soil with little to show for it?
For too many years, I carried guilt for friendships that seemed lost in the past, feeling as though I had “failed” to maintain a connection across the planting and harvesting of life.
If you’re in a time of friendship shifting, can I suggest my mom’s habit of tilling the soil of acquaintances?
Reach out and extend hospitality.
- Be the person others can gather with.
- Be patient with the in-between times. They can feel awkward and lonely. Lean into the God who created you. He knows your need for connection. Tell Him how you feel, then keep working the soil. Watch Him provide.
- Be careful that friendship isn’t where you find your security and identity, find it in your relationship with Christ.
- Be a thanksgiver in every season. Send a note or text of appreciation to a friend that enriched your life in a previous season.
Rest your roots in Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.”
faith walk, God first, Prayer, relationships, Ressurrection, spirituality
It was early–the sun wasn’t up. But I was ready. Styled like a first century woman, I wore a long pull over dress tied with a fabric sash, sandals and a long head covering. The retreat location, off the coast of California, resembled the Mediterranean hills surrounding Jerusalem. My character was mourning the loss of the most influential person she had ever known. He saw right through her, knew her story, healed her with redemption and love. This Mary I portrayed heard him teach with wisdom, heal with words, and feed multitudes from a boy’s lunch. She served and supported his travel and teaching. Listening and learning, all while serving and seeing. He spoke of repentance and a kingdom to come–The kingdom of Messiah spoken of by the prophets. This is who she knew him to be.
Like all Jews, Mary celebrated Passover. Individually and collectively, remembering how the blood of the lamb, brushed on the doorposts of their homes, had spared them from the angel of death before their ancestors fled Egypt. This teacher/Jesus she followed was honored with shouts of Hosanna as He entered Jerusalem on a donkey. The crowds shouted: “Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord. Blessed is the coming kingdom of our Father David. Hosanna in the highest.” Longing to be freed from Roman oppression, they didn’t realize he was their sacrificial lamb. That it would be His blood that would save them once for all. They wanted a physical King in their here and now.
From shouting Hosanna; to give us Barabbas, just days later. Jesus didn’t meet their expectations.
At our island retreat, the students had learned all these details. Hearing of Jesus’ betrayal, beating and cross bearing. The trek to Golgotha. The gruesome crucifixion. Hideous Roman crosses. Thieves. Forgiveness. Pain and anguish. Nail-pierced hands. It is finished. Then Silence.
The students had gone off to bed solemnly. The next morning, the outdoor arena filled with tired high school campers wrapped in sleeping bags and jackets–awakened early and asked to make their way to the small amphitheater. No breakfast and no insight about what would happen next.
In our outdoor theatre, the other woman and I waited just out of sight. The youth leader started reading the account of Jesus’ Resurrection, sharing from the different Gospels what happened after the horror of the crucifixion. Gambling for garments. His body removed. A burial place offered. His body prepared. Sabbath requirements quickening. More weeping and sorrow. His body entombed. Expectations unfulfilled. A long night and silent Saturday.
As he read “Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of James went to the tomb to check on the body”, my fellow scene-mate and I ran into the arena calling out, “He is not there. He has risen.” The dust rising as we moved our feet and carried our skirts. Emotion overwhelmed me as I ran. Imagining all she had seen and experienced.
From within the crowd of huddled students, several male counselors-also cast members-stood up, responding to us with disbelief–a harsh contrast to the women’s exhilaration. However, one, portraying Peter, jumped from his place, climbed over students, running past me and out of sight, saying he had to see this revelation for himself.
At the week’s beginning, Jesus was the celebrated Messiah. Friday, they crucified him as a liar. Saturday’s despair and disbelief contrast with Sunday’s victorious discovery–A Risen Lord and Savior. Truth met even those who doubted His appearances to them.
Truth also meets us where we are and sets us free.
As I pondered the experience of the Mary I was portraying, I realized she didn’t know who was standing before her-at first. The filter of grief lifted as He called her name. “Mary.” I am Alive. Whole. Not yet ascended. His teaching and truth affirmed in an instant. She knew his voice. Hope restored. Faith bolstered. Prophecy fulfilled. What a gift His appearance and His resurrection. From death to life. Forever.
I may have portrayed Mary Magdalene, but I can identify with each of the ones who encountered Jesus: Healed. Fed. Amazed. Mother. Sibling. Pharisee. Doubter. Betrayer. Thief. Soldier. Sleepy students. Peter said let me see for myself. Like Mary, I don’t always realize who is standing before me. In my weak ways, I forget what it means to encounter the living Christ.
Lord, may every day’s resurrection celebration remind me anew all that I am because of you:
Unblemished–because of your blood sacrifice. 1 Peter 1:18-21
Sealed–I cannot be ripped from your love. Ephesians 1: 13-14
Worthy–because Your Holy Father sees me through the filter of You, Jesus Christ. Revelation 5:12-14
I wonder, have you encountered him? Have you seen Him? Do you know the truth of his resurrection, and do you believe? He came that we might experience the depth of his Grace, the powerful salvation of our souls by the protective blood of the lamb. Prophecy fulfilled. Life, breath and days in his hands forever more.
May we like Mary, run and tell others what we know to be true–He is Risen.
Hallelujah, what a Savior.
