Treasures in heaven.

Tags

Daughters, Faith, Fathers, God, Jesus, Mothers, Remembering, The Apple of my Eye, Worship

It was on stage yesterday that I was caught up in a memory. I sang the song “As the Deer”, a lovely song, inspired by the old songs of king David. But it was the last line, a common cultural phrase, that swept me up.

“You’re the apple of my eye.”

As I sang it, the words were directed towards my heavenly Father.  I picture a barrel of apples, but one that is more beautiful than all the rest. Its shine catches my eye, I reach for it, not even noticing the others.

And yet this cultural phrase that carries little meaning in other parts of the world, is entwined in my heart, my memories.  And every time, I know, I feel exactly what it means.

It was April 2010. I was sitting next to my mom in her bed. The history channel was on TV and she and I were writing letters. A letter to her sponsor child in Haiti explaining her illness. A thank you letter to someone who had sent flowers. Other letters that she could not bear to complete.

I could see out the window. The Millville plains stretched out to the creek where tall, stately trees indicated the flowing of the creek. Spring was coming. The sky was gray and the rain came and went for hours. With her eyes on the history channel and her thoughts somewhere unearthly, she reached for my hand.

She patted it.”Did you know you’re the apple of my eye?”

I told her I did. I had always known. Though no expressing of it had meant as much as that one.

“But I think it sounds better when God says it,” she finished.

I sang that phrase this weekend. I sang it to my Savior. But every time, I wondered what it sounded like when He said it to her. She went into His kingdom on May 18, 2010. While we experienced the unnatural horror of death, she was hearing His voice.

I wonder if He whispered it to her. A gentle embrace. A sigh of relief upon arriving home.

Or did He run to her, as she ran to Him? Did He touch His daughter’s face and say,

“Did you know you are the apple of My eye?”

I can’t imagine how much better it sounded when He said it.

And I cannot wait to hear it for myself.

You see, it’s not about doing the right things. It’s not about trying to be good. It’s not about following rules for a pat on the back. It’s about knowing Him. Wanting to know Him. A collection of days and moments spent believing. It’s about this crazy faith in the unseen. It’s about pursuing Him, though all else says it’s absurd. It’s about faith in the one true God. That He is a loving God, that He is a mighty, powerful God, and that it is He who has made us and not we ourselves.

I hope with all hope that you will hear it too. That you will endure, sprinting towards the finish line, or hobbling from earthly injuries, never giving up. Falling into the arms of the One that always loved you, even on those days of doubt when you were not sure He was even real. Even then, you were, you are, the apple of His eye.

A real name…

Hard boiled eggs and messy dye; my children decorating and then hiding their artwork in the grass, then counting and re-counting just to make sure that they were all found afterward, candy and treats inside the plastic ones . . . these moments make for good memories.

The smell of a ham baking. Family gathered around the food, snacking, laughing, complaining about the heat of the kitchen . . . these days I will remember always.

Hunting for the hidden Easter basket in the house, unwrapping goodies and fun gifts . . . laughter is priceless.

Easter. Spring. New life. This time of year brings an array of happiness to so many.

And for others it brings relief because it is a reminder.

A reminder that death was defeated. A reminder that, though Christ died, He rose again. He defeated death, he beat the insatiable grave, to walk again. To offer this hope to us.

It doesn’t end here.

This morning, Lori Corliss, my husband’s grandma, the woman that raised him, breathed her last breath on earth. We were not ready for her to go. But can you ever be ready for the loss of love?

But it didn’t end in that bed. It didn’t end with her last breath. It didn’t end with those last kisses. It didn’t end with those last hugs and expressions of love. Because she is with Jesus. I know this, because she told us she loved Him. He was her Savior.

She’s alive. Praise God, she’s alive. With new eyes that can see brilliant colors and the face of her Heavenly Father. She was so excited to go to church this weekend, but God brought her even closer. Not just into the assembly of His people, but right into His presence. Her legal name was Violet, and she hated it. She went by Lori all her days. I can’t wait to hear the name that God has for her. The name He chose straight from His heart. She’s hearing it now. Beautiful. Treasured. Child of God.

I don’t know why she had to go today. But I know where she is.

This week is not about eggs, food, the gathering of family, or even filing into a church building (though all of those things are good and fun). It’s about Jesus Christ, who conquered death.

“But thank God, He gives us victory over sin and death through our Lord Jesus Christ.”

1 Corinthians 15:57

This is what I wrote on the subject a year ago . . . Click here.

Comfort is…

Tags

banana bread, cheetohs, Comfort, dinner, heartache, Jesus, pot roast, rain

Comfort is …

Cheetohs.

A warm loaf of banana bread. Not the healthy, dairy/egg free kind. The good stuff with lots of butter.

The sound of my kids playing with new cousins. Laughter. Noise.

Spring rain. Like the sky is crying too. Does it know today is a sad day?

A panicked post begging for prayer.  And lovely friends responding.

A promised roast for dinner.

New family. Just being together.

Good news, even though temporary.

Jesus. He’s been here before. He knows how this feels. He promises that it there is a time to mourn. But joy will come again.

Comfort is knowing that she calls me grandaughter.

“Men don’t follow title. They follow courage.”

I’m watching Braveheart and it’s inspiring me. Certainly not to run about wearing paint and a kilt and wielding a knife… well maybe.

But I think we should be ruthless. Ruthless to the things in our lives that are not supposed to be there. Ruthless at eradicating those things we have imposed upon ourselves that have done nothing good… or those things that others imposed upon us. You know, just because someone says it, doesn’t make it true. Just because it’s how you’ve always done it, doesn’t mean you can’t change.

Just because you were raised that way, doesn’t mean you have to be that way. Just because everyone else is doing it, doesn’t mean you have to. Just because you want to do it doesn’t mean you should.

When William Wallace (also known as Mel Gibson) faced his men and told him the plan to invade England and defeat them on their own ground, his men mocked him. His response?

“You’re so concerned with scrabbling for the scraps from Longshanks table, that you’ve missed your God-given right to something better.”

I wonder how much time we waste defending the “scraps”.

Really, you’re only hurting yourself. Oh yeah, and all those that care about you. And you’re just plain missing out on something better.

We do have the promise of something better. Not because we were born with that right, but because Jesus Christ came to earth and bought that right with His blood. And then He presented it to us. Here. Here is your freedom.

You can have the scraps. Or . . . you can have the “something better.” What’s it gonna be?

That something better isn’t just going to fall into your lap. You’ve got to go get it, and leave the scraps behind. Really, you can’t take the scraps with you when you go. Why would you want to anyway?

So paint half of your face a dashing shade of blue, done your best kilt, and start running across the countryside towards freedom. Or something like that.

All for love.

The last two weeks have not been good. My heart hurts. And yet I am so rich because my heart could not hurt if were it not filled with love. Such rich love for those that hold my heart.

Don’t worry, it wasn’t my husband. I adore him. He is so good at loving me.

And there is another that holds me so tight that even the broken pieces do not fall out and shatter. He binds those wounds with the promise of His faithfulness.

And it’s for this great LOVE that we do what we do. That we carry on. That we get back up after messing up. That we try again though we did wrong.

It’s for this great LOVE that we strive. Not because we have to, but because we want to. Because we are compelled to be closer to the One we love most. I cannot explain it, if you don’t know it. But I urge you to pursue. To just find out what I speak of.

My husband is out with friends and my girls are sleeping, and so alone I turned on some music, wrapped presents, and worked through things that are bothering me. A song came on that laid me bare. I’ll probably regret writing something during such an emotional moment and maybe I’ll delete it later. But for now it’s here.

 There are moments when I think of my mom in her last moments and the missing of her hits me so hard. It’s hard for me to reconcile losing her, with the life that I know she is now fully living. I miss her.

And so I push past those moments and focus on God and His gifts. Gifts so rich that I am suddenly filled with gratitude.

For the gift of a mother that I did not truly understand until now.

For a faithful, loving husband that stands beside me, holding me up when I feel so completely alone otherwise. For my lovely daughters that sing of God’s goodness and humor and beauty. For the others that are loving me from afar (they know who they are). For those that try to push me away.

I am thankful.

You see, when I look around, I see so much more. It’s this “lifting my eyes to hills” thing that I’ve got to remember… It heals the heart. It cleanses the eye. It strengthens the bones.

And so… I urge you to take a few minutes and listen to this song. Close your eyes and let God change your perspective.

Kristene Mueller: Homeward Bound.

Just another attitude adjustment.

I didn’t get enough sleep last night.

My house is a mess. Dirty carpet. Dirty dishes.

I’ve stepped in pee more times than I can count.

I just hit my elbow on a chair.

And the computer that I am trying to write from (and am supposed to be working from home on today) is not working. It’s gonna hit the dust soon and there’s no replacement coming soon.

My girls occupied themselves long enough to give me a semi break, but then I saw that Eva was writing on my new table.

So what am I going to do about it?

I’m going to think on what’s true. Pure. Real.

I am tired because I chose to stay up late. It’s no one’s fault but mine. My house is messy because my children are living life and making memories.  I’d take the mess any day. There’s pee on the floor because my 2 year old is FINALLY trying to potty train and actually doing a great job and I am so proud of her! The chair I hit my elbow on is from a new dining set that I finally got after 5 years of wishing. I’m not used to it’s placement in the house yet. And the computer is one more computer than we had two months ago. I’m gonna get all the use out of while I can. And… I get to work from home… which is what I’ve always wanted.

If I could… I would freeze time. Right now. With my babies young making messes and yelling with joy. This is the good stuff right here.

Thinking on what’s true. Real. Pure.

Our minds cannot always be trusted. Our bodies want to complain. Our bodies are not made to remind us of the good. We… have to remind ourselves.

So I’m gonna go now. And do something useful with myself. And besides… this loaner computer just started playing some Kenny G jazz something or other and I really cannot stand another minute of it.

Today is a good day. Thank you, Lord.

(feel free to add your own thankfulness or attitude adjustments below!)

A brick in one hand, a sword in the other.

Once upon a time there was a man who was hired to work for a king. He served as the cup-bearer, to taste the king’s drink first just in case the drink had been poisoned. The city of his birth was falling, and this man grieved over the downfall of his town. When the king learned of this, he sent the man back to his city with resources, blessing, and protection.

With the blessing and help of the king, the man went back to his home town and began to rebuild the city walls. However, there were others outside of the city, enemies, who were angered when they learned of this, and they sought to stop the efforts. They sought to destroy what was being built up.

But the man did not stop, and his people worked with him. With the blessing of the king, and the protection from God above, they rebuilt the city walls. Half stood guard, while the other half worked. And the half that worked did so with a sword in one hand.

Everyone worked with a weapon to defend their wives, their children, their friends and family, and the city they were rebuilding. And when trouble came, they rushed to help. To serve, to protect, to rebuild the city. At any cost. This was their purpose.

Nick told me about this last night. What an amazing story. A true story, recording by history and the Bible, about a man named Nehemiah. He was a man who did whatever it cost to serve his purpose.

I wonder what would happen if we were so passionate and so dedicated to whatever it was we were defending?

It makes me think about us. And how sometimes we so quickly let things go. It’s too hard. Too painful. Too risky. And so we just let it go. Is something good about to crumble in your life?

Are you willing to defend it no matter what the cost? No matter what the threat? I’ll tell you this, if God called you to it, there is no safer place to be then building the wall back up with one hand, and carrying a sword in the other. Defending to the very end that which we were called to rebuild, that which we were called to keep alive, to not let die.

Nehemiah 4:20. “When you hear the blast of the trumpet, rush to where it is sounding. Then our God will fight for us!”

This gives me such hope. Such hope. God will fight for us.

When the wall was finished… the known world marveled. They knew that the work had only been accomplished by the help of God above.

The greatest thing I’ve ever learned.

The greatest thing I’ve ever learned…

When God says “no”, it’s because He’s trying to protect me from pain, from damage, from bad memories, or from selling out for a cheap fix.

When God says “no”, it’s because there is something better.

Sometimes that means waiting. Waiting. And more waiting. For His best. Not giving in to something cheap.

But we must not forget that there is nothing we can do to lose His love. He forgives. He can redeem anything. He can take anything. ANYTHING and turn something in it for good.

He’s a father. A perfect father. And good fathers always want the BEST for their kids. Not a cheap imitation that will leave their children feeling broken, empty, used…

Think on it. Rest in it. Ask Him if there is something that you are selling out on. Are you accepting a cheap imitation rather than waiting for the best? Sometimes the imitation doesn’t look like an imitation. It can look like the real thing… for a while.

And if you are waiting… Hang in there. God is near. And the best is ALWAYS worth the wait.

A candlelight dinner.

I love my children more than words. This might seem like a never-ending story to those without children, but have your own and then you will know what I mean. It’s a love that consumes every part of you.

 They are 5 and 2 and they wear me out.

Today, I have done very little. I’ve suffered from a migraine, and my house looks like a bomb of toys and necklaces and blankets exploded. But my girls were kind and loving and, believe it or not, the mess was actually the result of several expressions of love as they tried to make mommy feel better.

This isn’t the first time this happened. Several days ago I was feeling unwell. It had been a very long day. I had a headache. My feet hurt. My back hurt. And my patience was running on fumes alone. 7 pm hit and I declared with relief that it was bedtime. I didn’t think I could make it through the routine of jammies, brushing teeth, songs, stories, and prayers, but the end of my day was in sight.

Until my 5 year old asked me to sit on the floor cause she had a present. Now let me add a few more details.  I had just cleaned the living room, put the toys and blankets away, and washed a few dishes (a clean house helps me to relax at night). I was ready to sit and watch tv with my man; it’s something akin to a date for us.

But because my sweet angel asked (not because I wanted to) I sat down. Right on my clean floor. She proceeded to carry in all of the blankets and pillows I had just picked up. I bit my tongue and watched as she spread them about. More things appeared. Necklaces, a small kiddie table, some battery operated candles, and some other strange items.

I was so tired I wanted to cry. I wanted to reprimand her for making a mess. But Daddy was home, and I was taking my cues from him. I knew my lack of patience and headache was not a good guage for reality. And he was calm.

Then she whispered in Daddy’s ear. He came and sat behind me and started to rub my shoulders. As he did, she turned off the lights and said, “Tada!”

I started to relax and looked around. Suddenly the mess took form. It wasn’t just blankets and pillows and necklaces and random toys. Not at all.

It was a candlelight dinner.

There was no food, mind you, but there I sat on a bed she had made, getting a backrub she had requested, with a table and candles and beautiful decorations before me.

It wasn’t a mess at all.

I’ll let you take from this story what you will, but it seems fitting for the way we all go on about the messes in our lives.

Of course sometimes situations are well worth complaining about, I think. Or talking about. Or asking for help. Sometimes things are as real as they seem. But sometimes, we just need to take a deep breath, close our eyes, and reopen them again to a new perspective.

No one would have blamed me for stopping her before she started, for demanding that she clean up the mess I had just cleaned. But the entire family would have missed out, me most of all, from a wonderful blessing from a little girl who saw things as they were the entire time.

Relax. Breathe. Ask God for a new perspective on that mess right in front of you.

Perhaps it’s not a mess at all. Perhaps He’s prepared a candlelight dinner.

The Lord prepares a table for me.... (Psalm 23)

It’s not all relative.

It’s not all relative. Not all paths lead to the same place. It’s not about “what’s works for you” and “what works for me.”

It’s about Jesus.

Only Jesus.

Nothing will fill that void enough. Nothing will heal you enough. Nothing will leave you satisfied enough. Except Jesus.

There are momentary satisfactions and pleasures. There are fleeting fancies that fill the mind and distract enough for a time. But only Jesus is complete. Forever. Never-ending.

You cannot become so intellectual that you surpass your ability to believe, for He created the mind.

You cannot search far enough to find proof that something else was responsible for all of this, for He was there before time began. It was always Him. It will always be Him.

You cannot become strong enough, smart enough, loved enough to outgrow your need for Him, for you live in a mortal body.

Nothing will satisfy you as He will for you were created to love Him and to be loved by Him.

But it is not so limiting. It is surreal the world that has opened up to me through the hands of my Creator. I chose Him, and then He laid out a number of possibilities for me to choose. I am complete in Him. I am lacking nothing. My heart literally overflows with all He has given me. My heart and house is full.

I have hope.

Some of you will waste your lives away trying to prove that it’s not Him.

When you could have be living. Truly living.

Right now. Let today be the day you choose Him.