Wonderland

Ted and Nancy Johnson drove Matt and I to Oregon.  We had a long day in Portland, and arrived at our hotel on the Columbia River just as the rain and sun set in.  Nancy got it in her head that she wanted to find the alpaca farm for knitting yarn.  The men were tired, but I'm always up for an adventure.  We weren't sure if it would be open for business.  It was late in the season and as we ended up taking the long road there, it was late in the day, too.  Finally, after following sign after sign after sign, we knew we were close.  We traveled through orchards and vineyards and golden fall foliage before we found the alpaca farm. It sat up and into the hills. With the elevation came an unexpected transformation.  Rain turned to snow. 
The memory of it all still takes my breath away.   Each delicate flake was so defined I could almost discern its pattern from afar. Silence fell upon us as the sky powdered the tallest, straightest, evergreenest trees I had ever laid eyes on.  Like feathers gently blessing every branch.  We were blanketed in beauty and I thought to myself, I don't think I have ever seen anything quite so lovely in all my life.  And yet, I had never expected snow to captivate me so.  I love the sea. It's always been my muse. But here I was, lulled and rocked by another sort of wave.  Snow sweetening every surface, frosting the world before me, bringing crystals to my eyes. I didn't want it ever to end.    

Very, Very Small

The only thing I know to do right now is to grow very small.  To curl up in the corner of my sanctuary and wait and bow and draw the presence of God to me through humility.  He who reveals, He who grants, He who draws all things together and into being. 
He who gives grace and sanctification to walk the path He places before our feet. 
This is almost too much to wrap my head around.  I feel elated and confused and so hopeful. 
And yet so afraid--of myself mostly, and the questions I don't have anwers for.
So anxious not to have to lead through this. 

Shiver

It's one thing to choose between tangibles. 
Should I wear green or purple today?  Flats or boots? 
Should I encourage Grace to continue dance?  Emily horse back riding?  These choices come with responsibilities, repercussions...but I am involved in the ebb and flow of the circumstances and interactions and emotions of the decisions, even if I cannot control the final outcome.
But if I think about it for more than a minute...I realize so many of the things that I "decide" have been in preparation long before my awareness or involvement.  God's sovereign hand has been at work, preparing, bringing things into alignment.  And so my choice comes in after I have already been traveling the road for some time.
Unless...well, what if...I know I shouldn't say such things...it seems I must be offending someone by doing so...but well...
What if God decided to give you a choice before you were on the path.  Way before you could possibly know from your own sense of things what was happening, maybe because those things hadn't even happened yet.  
What if God laid out paths before your feet and gave you a choice...a limited choice...but still, there it was before you, a choice between two very different roads, or maybe more. 
And what if...it was up to you to choose.  And your decision would drastically change the course of not only your own life, but others too.  And what if there were no guarantees...
The truth is, we make those choices all the time.  Maybe every day...but most of the time we do it blind, and we don't see the result of our decisions. 
But what if...we could see. 
And we had to choose knowing some of the ramifications of our choice. 
And what if we were very afraid of that choice... 
So very afraid of the possibility that it might actually come to be...
And it might mean that it changes EVERYTHING.
And what if we weren't so afraid that we did it anyway?

Breathe

I could have held her all night. 
Little chest rising and falling on mine.  Warm breath, labored though it was, blowing into a soft rhythm.   Soft hair curling against my cheek.
Though just one cherub was in my arms, they were all in the room and I could hear them, and feel the closeness of their presence. 
I didn't want to leave.
I, the mother bird, with all my little songbirds under my wings at once.
Listening as my nest whispers its own sweet lullaby to the night.

Heavenly Peace

I'm looking forward to a silent night.  The last few weeks have been a busy blurr.  Fun, exciting...crazy at times.  Tense quick changes, nervous nellies, and a few moments bursting with pride.  Two more shows to go. Then Mom and Dad leave. 
And then...I want quiet.  Em and I might put that gingerbread house together.  Sam and I will go for a long walk.  Sarah and I will take a cozy cuddle.  Maybe Matt and I can watch the birds discover their new house.  Grace can bake a cake with me. 
I am longing to stay home. And after everyone else goes to sleep, and all is quiet, I will focus on the holiness of it all--the chaos and the calm.  I think there was a bit of both even on the first Christmas night. 

The Cardinal Sin

The sun lights the snowflakes on the wooden planks
It's rays not hot enough to melt them. 
The wind lifts the crystal feathers and rocks them from side to side,
It's gusts not strong enough to carry them.
How much light and breath will it take?
Israel's in a stand off with winter,
Jacob lies cold outside the door.

Nesting

One of the things I love about traveling is how nice it is to come home.  Since I've been gone for so much time this past year, I've found it really nice to want to stay home. I'm in nesting mode.  Like I want to hibernate for the rest of the winter, or maybe a whole year.
I feel like taking restaurants, movie theatres, shopping malls...everything superfluous off the radar.  I'd rather cook, watch a video, or shop on-line.  Better yet--read a book, invite my friends over, listen to Matt's new old record player with all his Dad's old records, or light some candles and take a bubble bath.  OR play some games or do some crafts with my kids.  OR paint furniture.  Or for that matter, my kitchen.  I'm ready to put the finishing touches on all the stuff we've been working on around the house, and get rid of stuff we don't need.  Or pray. I'm even in the mood to clean! 
There are times where you  turn yourself out onto the world and then there are seasons where you shut yourself inward. 
I'm turning in...and loving it.
B

All flesh is grass...

"The grass withers, the flower fades,
Because the breath of the Lord blows upon it.
Surely the people are grass."
Isaiah 40:7

You know, I've heard this passage countless times in my life. 
For some reason, I don't think I ever read this verse on its own. 
When I read it as a naked verse, not dressed up by the verse before or after it,
I wonder if the imagery paints a picture something like this...

The grass and flower die because the wind blows life out of them.
People die because the Spirit (ruah) of God blows life out of them.

I've heard a lot of people say that death is not of God.  God is not a God of death, but of life.
That never really rang true for me.
And this verse seems to say otherwise.
It doesn't seem to say that death happens despite God.
It portrays God as the blower, the bringer.

Maybe most people don't feel this way, but as for me, I want to welcome the Spirit of God to blow my soul all the way to Heaven.
I want to trust that when it's my time He will take me.  Not a moment too early, not a moment too late. 
I want to welcome death as a bittersweet gift.  I want to believe that "to die is gain." 
Maybe that depends on your life.  Maybe you die well when you live well.
What I'm trying to say is this,
I want to do both.

I Mean It

We are now way past "this is not what I expected" to the "seriously, are you kidding me?" phase.
Remember the line in Annie's song, "Would someone, pinch me please?"
And then they pinch her and the next line in the song is, "Ouch, I didn't mean it!"
Well, I mean it.