Grace Laced

I fluffed the pillow beneath my elbow as I watched her hands move in tandem with aching words, describing the years I'd missed. We'd been friends since grade eight but had lost touch in recent and apparently, difficult years. She'd experienced pain through admittedly unwise choices but also through horrible injustices forced on her by others. This beautiful woman wiped her tears with the corner of the napkin from the fancy little lunch she'd prepared on a silver platter. I clasped her flailing hand in mine and shook my head at the trauma she'd endured. How could one person face so much? I leaned back against pillows that matched her one room apartment and sighed. I wished I'd known, that I could have helped... something.

 

But as we talked, I noticed more and more that my friend's words were laced with grace. Her suffering had drawn her closer to God, not pushed her further from Him. Her resolve in believing He had a better plan for her future was her theme. It wasn't false hope or Christian clichés, but she truly knew all along that the Lord, whom she'd been raised to fear as a harsh judge over her every move, was actually a loving Father who'd been protecting her mind and heart all those years. Although, anger arose in her from time to time, she ultimately spoke lovingly of those who've wronged her and she desires for them to have God's goodness too. I sat breathless.--amazed, but not surprised, at how our awesome God kept my friend from falling into unforgiveness and bitterness--both of which only hurt the one feeling them.

stopping for a photo in the rainy streets of Toronto

a beautiful garden stairway

little markets along her neighbourhood (she's embarrassed at all the pics I took of her--making up for lost time :)

another lovely yard and home

what a splendid pathway to one's front door!

trying to identify these flowers (oh, Terry where are you when I need you?)

gateway to a gorgeous backyard

huge gardens in bloom and well-manicured 

standing in front of Casa Loma, which is just down the street from my dear friend

saying goodbye and heading home after promises of meeting again soon--so thankful for God-connections and His timing--so grateful for His redemption of our pasts!

This Longest of Winters

She tosses black oil sunflower seeds out over her snowy yard from the porch and in seconds, feathered ones from every direction flutter in for their free lunch. I watch from the window and I know that even though this little ritual cheers her heart, this longest of winters is taking it's toll on her. My mom's injuries from the accident have continued to grip her like a thick icicle that won't let go. The surgeon says she won't get well unless she has  invasive surgery that will perhaps put her out for a year. There are other complications to it as well, and so she waits and prays and tries to decide what to do. In the meantime, she does her best to walk the icy roads for exercize, drive with trepidation, and clean her home in stages, as not to incur too much pain. 

 

A good, full winter with its extreme cold and mounds of snow is normally her favourite. My mom prays for snow and her grandchildren are reminded of her when they hear the song, "Let It Snow". But this time, the relentless harshness of the season has been discouraging. And so, we feed birds, take photos and thank the Lord for how He cares for us like He provides for them. She smiles, watches carefully and exclaims when the cardinals return. They didn't come all summer and now she has a splash of red in her dark winter--the cardinals, saved for such a time as this longest of seasons. Hope flies in and God whispers that He sees her in that little chair, gazing out the window into the bleakness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

More about her accident here.

Frayed Edges

I thought I'd stop breathing, that this kind of pain couldn't actually be lived through, only succumbed to. He knew better and since I'd been taught from birth to lean on Him, to give all the pain to Him, a tiny shaft of memory of this promise seered through the darkness as I wept. He took my frayed edges and sewed them up with His healing touch. He was the lifter of my head and now, in hindsight of that time, I can testify to the binding up of my broken heart.

Give Him your frayed edges, friends.

Gratitude on this sun-sparkling on the snow Monday:
642. how she bakes cookies with her friends, boys or girls
643. for how he watches Paul Washer sermons in bed on the laptop
644. sun breaking through clouds today
645. fresh laundry smell wafting from my folding area (one of my favourite smells)
646. a messy, soggy mudroom filled with winter wetness... sign of much outdoor fun
647. a king-sized bed when Littles need to squish in mid-night
648. re-reading old journal entries
649. being able to write PRAISE! over requests that were written in those entries!
650. praising for answers that weren't my idea of how they'd be answered (His ways are higher!)

651. Meredith Andrews' music--love her!
652. Sanctus Real's music--also good--loving skilled Christians using their gifts
653. new insights in the book of James (following this site for studying: http://www.goodmorninggirls.org/)
654. following Ann's videos on her book here: http://www.incourage.me/category/bloom
655. washing Molly's frayed and well-loved "blankie" that I quilted for her
656. the way my boy traces my face with his finger before I open my eyes in the morning
657. how we spent Family Day by switching half of our kids with half of their cousins on Terry's side--so fun!

Happy Family Day!

Playing House

It's what they do on a regular basis, pretending they're "big". I did it as well, when I was their age, and the beautiful thing is, I had two sisters too. There's nothing like this kind of play that can draw me back to my own childhood of dolls and teddies, tea parties and fort-building. I wonder why we wanted to grow up so much.

Watching this scene play out before me, the giggling, the somersaults and politeness at tea, plummets me into memories of innocent days gone by. Days laden with three sisters climbing willow tree branches and swinging from "Tarzan" ropes, of diving board contests and towel-wrap fashion shows, of bedroom garage sales and trading stickers, of friendship pins and sneaking into each other's beds in the wee hours. Days before the divorce and re-marriages, long distance moves, trauma and bone disease.

I whisper prayers for these little ones of mine, for their carefree hearts and their pure, sweet minds. Protect them!, I plead to the only One who can. The One who held me in the dark when I cried myself to sleep as a little girl. The One who redeemed my adult life so I would know joy in the midst of aging, no longer innocent and unfettered by the world. Protect them and make them wise without the pain, I pray on.

But, is it possible?

Can we grow, change, become wise without pain? I pray they do, without holding onto sin, that they always look to the One who sees them now, pretending to be "big".

My children playing house without knowing the hardships of what "real house" might look like... praise God for His overwhelming blessings.

Gratitude:

604. the way they speak politely (sometimes with an English accent) when they sit down to "tea" with their dolls

605. how they suck on (dirty) icicles that hang from the deck

606. my husband's Sunday afternoon nap... finally getting to rest after 6 days of labour

607. how hope is real and good and so we wait for how God is going to move in our friend's life

608. for a shy but willing woman who shared her story yesterday with a large group of women... she asked in prayer first that God hide her behind the cross so that hearts could be changed by the way God redeemed her world... and they were

609. for an impromtu afternoon at the salon for haircuts for all my children and how it was so slow that day that my girls got pampered with their hair curled for free

610. how Oliver pushed the hairstylist in the chair and spun her round and round, her laughing and whooping it up

611. how God is taking care of the unseen for us... long-time prayers we cannot see the answers to but know He's working out His plan for our good

612. for a family with a vision for the arts... http://www.solideoballet.com/

613. for a preschooler and kindergartener who are always asking, "How do I spell...?"

614. for the ability to get back on the horse and begin another exercize program--so grateful for health

615. for how we can still smell "baby" in her eight year-old forehead when we kiss her... I'm convinced this is a little gift from God, reserved just for me :)

Doing Thanks

It's not until you've had the rug ripped out from underneath you,
It's not until your heart has been torn into a million pieces,
It's not until you're not sure you want to go on,
It's not until you understand the hurting souls with the sad eyes,
That your very own gratitude to Jesus for the gift of His life means you're going to make it.
This is what "doing thanks" looks like.

Sometimes it's the only thing you can give back to Him.

Living a life of gratitude, despite the pain and circumstance.
...the only thing that brings joy into the dark places.

Broken Hearts

They are there, everywhere I look--heartbroken women. If I don't actually speak with them, I see it in their eyes. Some of them laugh, hiding silent anguish, some of them can't help but wear it on their faces. These ones are done. Done with the hurt, done with the abuse, done with the loneliness, done with the pain. Some of them know the One who can help them, they've been brought up with this knowledge. Others don't understand why the people sitting in pews under tall steeples call Him, Lord.

Dear, precious woman, I am writing to tell you that God knows your name, He knows the number of hairs on your head, he is collecting your tears, He aches to heal you. Whether you've never known Him or you've turned a deaf ear because some hypocritical Christian tainted Him in your mind, reach out to Him. He is the One who created you and longs to have a relationship with you. He alone can fill the void inside, wash away the apathy, the hardness that you've built around your heart for protection. He will never fail you or betray you.

God is waiting for you to take a step toward Him. He's always been there. It's in taking that step, the one that releases your control of your life (as much as you feel out of control) to Him. Just talk to Him and tell Him you're done with the garbage you've been handed or the garbage you have gathered yourself. Tell Him you don't know what else to do and you need Him. Rest in Him. He'll give you the peace you've been longing for. As you begin to seek Him, the Bible says you will find Him. Then, He'll take those wounds and heal them and show you a way through the pain to the end of that long, dark tunnel.

Bless you on your journey. I know it works, dear Sister, I've been there too.