(Not long ago I was delighted to have a cup of tea at my friend’s home, who by some lovely coincidence has the same china as my Grandma Brubacher and my Aunt Sharon.  This cup and saucer looks very similar to one I have sipped tea from many times with my Grandma and my Aunt.  Tea tastes so delicious in a cup that is as beautiful as this.) 

On the Christmas of 1982, I received two gifts that I have never forgotten.  One was a brilliant, emerald green jumper that my Grandma Brubacher had sewn for me, forever cementing in my mind that I should always choose bright green as a color to wear. My cheeks were so rosy when I wore that dress.  The other was a small demitasse cup with saucer.  That cup and saucer was very special.  In theory it was from my cousins Lee and Jay – but  I feel pretty confident that my Aunt Zala picked it out…

You have to know something about my family, in particular my mom’s family.  Being Canadian means you drink tea.  hot tea.  Now my dad’s people are iced tea drinkers, but that is a completely different topic…  In Ontario, growing up, it seemed that hot tea was the beverage of choice, most often to be drunk from a cup with a saucer.  This special Christmas present – a little tea cup, was such an important gift.  It was my entrance into being all grown up. Or so I thought.

I remember many Sunday afternoons taking a cup of Red Rose tea with my mom.  To this day it is still my favorite. Well, now that I think about it, back then my cup had just a bit of tea with mostly cream and sugar, but it still counts. Over the years I’ve enjoyed tea at different times with my aunts, my sister, my grandma or my cousins. No matter what the occasion, it always becomes extra special when there is fellowship with loved ones, sipping a steamy beverage from a beautiful china cup…

These memories make up such a big part of who I am and where I come from.  More than that, they are a big part of where I’m headed.  Last week, Emily drank her first cup of tea from that same little cup that my Aunt Zala gave me so many Christmases ago.  She turns ten this coming weekend, so I feel sure she believes that she is nearing adulthood….

Tea is probably just a small snapshot of the bigger picture of how I became who I am today.  From both my mom and dad’s sides of the family, I come from a deeply rooted spiritual heritage.  This group of people I am privileged to call my family are steadfast believers,  faithfully giving their lives to His work.  All of my grandparents, my aunts and uncles – from across the US and in Canada –  my extended family tree is bearing His fruit.  And now, those of us in the family from my generation are following in our parents’ footsteps.   There is no doubt- I am blessed with a godly heritage.

So, here on this week of thanksgiving, I am pausing to remember that Christmas gift from my childhood.  Not because I want to live in the past, rather, I want to pass these blessed gifts on to my own children. With a grateful heart I want to soak in the moments of my own history, so that I know for sure how to make new history with my Emily, Isaac and Mackenzie.   I want to give them this spiritual heritage so that they can embrace it and pass it on to the next generation.

Its what my parents did for me.  And, its what God asks of us…

from Deuteronomy 6:

¹ “Now this is the commandment, and these are the statutes and judgments which the LORD your God has commanded to teach you, that you may observe them in the land which you are crossing over to possess, ² that you may fear the LORD your God, to keep all His statutes and His commandments which I command you, you and your son and your grandson, all the days of your life, and that your days may be prolonged. ³Therefore hear, O Israel, and be careful to observe it, that it may be well with you, and that you may multiply greatly as the LORD God of your fathers has promised you—‘a land flowing with milk and honey.’
⁴ “Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one! ⁵ You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your strength.
⁶ “And these words which I command you today shall be in your heart. ⁷ You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, when you walk by the way, when you lie down, and when you rise up. ⁸ You shall bind them as a sign on your hand, and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes. ⁹ You shall write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.

As my family celebrates on this Thanksgiving holiday, I find myself increasingly grateful for my wonderful extended family  and for the children that God has given to Michael and I to raise.  But I’m also thankful for these commands from Scripture, and overwhelmed by the privilege I have to follow them with my own children, just as my parents did with me.

And you can be sure we will talk about His promises as we linger over our next cup of tea…

This evening, as I thought over the “goings on” of my life, I realized there are many of my friends and loved ones who are going through such difficult circumstances. Illness, loss of a family member, relationship struggles, uncertain job or economic status – the list is long and heartbreaking.

Normally, I post thoughts and ideas from my own personal life that tie together with Scripture to encourage my blog readers.  But today, I’ve got nothing.  Well, nothing of my own creation. Just this: For all who have put their trust in Him, there is hope!

It is my prayer that all who read this passage and bind these words to their heart find His strength for their journey.

¹⁹ Oh, how great is Your goodness,
Which You have laid up for those who fear You,
Which You have prepared for those who trust in You
In the presence of the sons of men!
²⁰ You shall hide them in the secret place of Your presence
From the plots of man;
You shall keep them secretly in a pavilion
From the strife of tongues.

²¹ Blessed be the LORD,
For He has shown me His marvelous kindness in a strong city!
²² For I said in my haste,
“I am cut off from before Your eyes”;
Nevertheless You heard the voice of my supplications
When I cried out to You.

²³ Oh, love the LORD, all you His saints!
For the LORD preserves the faithful,
And fully repays the proud person.
²⁴ Be of good courage,
And He shall strengthen your heart,
All you who hope in the LORD.

Over the last few weeks, here in the Tennessee valley, nestled between Lookout and Signal Mountain, we have seen rich, decadent colors across the landscape.  Spicy tangerines, warm golds and sassy reds that would make anyone’s head turn.  God’s artistry, on exhibit for the whole world.  And I’ve enjoyed every drive down corridor J watching the vibrant tones wrap around the mountains, grateful for the incredible beauty.

I’ve been so taken with this foliage, and I know I’ve posted way too many photos of it all, so I hope you’ll bear with me…But, I’ve been curious.  So, I googled my question.

Why are the leaves so brightly colored?  What are the factors that change from year to year.  Last year, I promise, the leaves weren’t half as gorgeous and I just had to know : What makes the difference?

Well, I’m not a scientist, so, I’m about to give you my simplistic explanation.  I may use the wrong terminology, so my apologies in advance.  But here’s the deal :  Its their food.  The leaves take in different amounts of rain and sunshine.  Each year as summer ends and the leaves begin to die, eventually falling from their branches, they change color.  When the leaves have had the right amount of rain and sun over the previous season, creating just the right amount of food in their veins,  as they go through their sort of tribulation and ultimately die.  they begin to shine with the brightest of hues.

It is miraculous in my mind. I wonder if I could do half as well in my own human tragedy?

If I have been eating the right spiritual foods, my life will be aglow with His colors, colors of true beauty, from His Spirit, like joy, patience, peace, humility and charity…  rather than dull, gray colors of self preservation, pride or deceit. In my weak humanity, when I face trials, I tend to wallow in self pity, or jealousy.    If I have not eaten well and consumed His Word, when the time comes I will be lifeless and without His glow.

These words from Philippians are a really good place to start filling up my heart and mind:

⁴ Rejoice in the Lord always. Again I will say, rejoice!
⁵ Let your gentleness be known to all men. The Lord is at hand.
⁶ Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; ⁷ and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.

⁸ Finally, brethren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever thingsare of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy—meditate on these things. ⁹ The things which you learned and received and heard and saw in me, these do, and the God of peace will be with you.

Heavenly Father, Let me be like your beautiful creation, drawing attention to You and Your ways first.  Remind me to take Your words in, so that I will wear your colors on the outside.  amen.

Saturday morning there was an aroma of freshly baked cinnamon rolls in my kitchen.  I think its the best way to start a weekend.  The smell heightens the senses and awakens hunger…  After a long night’s fast, it is delightful to have such a tasty morsel to eat.

Friday night I prepared for the morning by mixing up the dough, letting rise and putting it in the fridge to chill.  When the time arrived, I was able to roll out my dough and make cinnamon rolls.  Then the hard part : waiting.  The rolls have to sit in the pan to rise before baking.  I looked around my kitchen to find something to help me pass the time.

And there it was, my small, hand-held Bible.  I opened it to the book of Psalms and sipped my cup while reading.  My spirit rose in me, greeting the very morning that my Savior had ordained, and my soul found contentment.  I had forgotten how lovely and fulfilling it is to dwell on Him as the sun is rising.

I popped the rolls into the oven and thought about my normal morning routine. Lately my day begins twisting and turning even before the sun beams through my kitchen window.  So, I read in the evening, or meditate in the night.  But, just like a hearty and delicious breakfast is wonderful and comforting after a night without food,  my heart and soul are satisfied  in the morning by the Words He offers.  A day that begins without His nourishment rushing through my veins, is like planning a full day of physical activities with only a few crumbs of dry toast.   I shouldn’t do it…

Sweet smells of cinnamon rolls began to mingle with beautiful thoughts from God’s word:

⁸ Cause me to hear Your lovingkindness in the morning,
For in You do I trust;
Cause me to know the way in which I should walk,
For I lift up my soul to You.

And it is not that I don’t intend to read or pray in the evenings, or meditate on Him at lunchtime. No, the point is not a legalistic one.  It is simply this : I was amazed at how my day filled with hope and joy from the moment that I began to spend my thoughts on Him.  Strength was rising from his promises and I found courage!

Thank you Heavenly Father for such wonderful provision, available each and every morning. Truly, I am grateful for the most lovely of breakfasts!  amen.

amen.

My husband and I watched Julie and Julia a few nights ago. I really enjoyed watching it because I love stuff about cooking and baking. There was one thing that has caught my attention. When Julia Childs was naming her cook book the subtitle was “for servant-less cooks.”

Most of us now days know what it means to be servant-less. I don’t know anyone personally who has a 24/7 house maid. I work around the house and expect the same of my children. Cleaning and cooking, laundry – all of those things that are expected of me : I do them.

As I’ve been pondering the word servant – I’m pulled towards the life of Christ. I’m on a journey to be more like him, but I know that I am not the servant that He was.

In John 13 Jesus made himself a servant, washing the disciples feet. I have to tell you this is probably the grossest thing that Jesus could have done. Seriously. They went barefoot, or wore sandals – walking everywhere. This was not just a simple little manicure – this was washing filth and sweat and who knows what else from their calloused, cracked, tough feet.

Why? This is what I ask myself. Why would he do this for these men – some would even betray him – and still he did this for them. It had to have been for love. He became a servant and did one of the most unpleasant jobs to care for their needs. And this to me is the definition of servant.

Servant: (the Melody Day definition) someone who fulfills the needs of another out of love without expectations for return gratification.

He knew they would not be able to respond to Him in kind. Yet He knew their needs and moved toward them out of loving kindness.

I’m embarrassed, but compelled to share that I do not act this way. So often I am not a servant. No – I wait to be served. Or, I may do something to meet a need in our house, but I hold strings that are attached to my actions. If I were following Christ as He desires – there would be love, followed by action without any strings.

During the account of the feet washing, Jesus says to the disciples, “Unless I wash you, you won’t belong to me.” And then He declares to them that they are to do the same for each other.

In my heart – I know I must be a servant to my family and those around me, showing them the loving kindness that Jesus has shown me. Because of His love, I am cleansed from the dirt and filth of sin – and I belong to Him. Now I am constrained to servanthood because of His love. Maybe others will come to know His love because of my service.

It’s my prayer that we won’t be a servant-less house any longer.

originally written on February 3, 2010…  

A long time ago I learned a poem from my great grandmother, GG.  She was one who taught us a verse of this and a song about that.  And I love her for it.  I wish I could be more like her because she truly was an extraordinary woman.

Each year, right around now, when autumn settles in and the leaves turn their bright hues of golden and crimson, this particular poem she taught me seems just right. And I’m going to share it with you now.  Not for the sake of the poem.  Oh, it is worthy to be repeated for sure in its own right.  But I’m sharing it because it has heightened my senses.  Piqued my interest…

What does that mean?  Well, as I looked out my window yesterday, I realized He created me with all of my physical senses so that I could sense Him, and so that others would come to know Him. But even more so that I could worship Him.  His beauty is everywhere; His creation is unfathomable.  I can savor the goodness of His harvest on my lips.  My ears revel in the symphony this world plays, each creature singing its own part.  I watch as His faithfulness is painted across the horizon from season to season…

As I come to know this God, the creator of these majestic mountains and glorious valleys, my life joins in unison, singing back His praises.  In word and deed  I’m able to touch those around me with His love and mercy.  If I live in the light of His goodness, my life becomes a sacrifice- a sweet-smelling aroma to Him.    Oh how I pray that He moves my heart to this sanctuary of gratefulness that induces action – maybe even right here, in my own back yard.

Heavenly Father, help me come to my senses!

And now the poem…

All Things Bright and Beautiful

~Cecil Frances Alexander

 

All things bright and beautiful,


All creatures great and small,


All things wise and wonderful,


The Lord God made them all.

 

Each little flower that opens,


Each little bird that sings,


He made their glowing colors,


He made their tiny wings.

 

The purple-headed mountain,


The river running by,


The sunset, and the morning,


That brightens up the sky;

 

The cold wind in the winter,


The pleasant summer sun,


The ripe fruits in the garden,


He made them every one.

 

He gave us eyes to see them,


And lips that we might tell,


How great is God Almighty,


Who has made all things well.

 

 

I sat at the computer and reviewed the album this morning.  I’m not sure why.  I just needed to hear it, I guess.  It wasn’t long ago that Michael and I recorded it.  Well, it doesn’t seem long ago – but it was several years ago when the leaves were changing colors that we played a few of our favorite worship songs in front of a microphone in our living room.  I guess it was seven years ago…

Yes. It was seven years ago that I desperately wanted to belong somewhere.  But no matter where I looked, I couldn’t find a good fit.  We were searching for a church home, I was working at an insurance company (which felt so strange for this young musician) and I had just been through a miscarriage.  I felt like such a misfit in so many ways.

And it hurt.

The album we recorded turned out quite nicely and we gave it as Christmas gifts to close friends and family. One of the simple tunes we recorded still resonates with me all of this time later.  And particularly this morning…

My heart belongs to You.  My heart belongs to You.

I’ll never give myself to another.  My heart belongs to You.

It is simple, really.  I want to belong.  Doesn’t everyone?  I want to feel like I fit in somewhere, that what I have to offer is special, important.  and it is.  I know it is because my Heavenly Father says so.  But, when I heard the lyrics to this song this morning, they meant something so different.

I do belong to Him.  I know I do.  But there are moments I find myself trying fit in better other places by giving my heart away to other things.    Its on days, kind of like today, that I forget and I run into trouble.  When I give a small piece of my heart to perfection, or to envy, to self-promotion, to pride, bit by bit I’m removing myself from the place I need to be the most.

I want to be clear:  I don’t lose my place in the palm of His hand; He doesn’t change.  He isn’t elusive or on the run.   Its my heart that is unfaithful.  But He graciously whispers reminders, like this one:

from Psalm 73:

²³ Yet I still belong to you;
      you hold my right hand.
 ²⁴ You guide me with your counsel,
      leading me to a glorious destiny.
 ²⁵ Whom have I in heaven but you?
      I desire you more than anything on earth.
 ²⁶ My health may fail, and my spirit may grow weak,
      but God remains the strength of my heart;
      he is mine forever.

And it is confirmed.  He promises.  Not earthly circumstances. Not my poor choices. No matter what, I will always fit right in the palm of His hand.

He is mine forever and I belong to Him.

My niece arrived today.  nine pounds twelve ounces.  She is beautiful.  Snuggling this little bundle brings a deluge of memories.I delivered Emily, my firstborn 10 years ago this month.  I can’t help but review every minute detail of her birth…the way she fit in my arms, the way she smelled, how her thick, soft and fluffy, dark hair felt brushing against my cheek… There is something so unforgettable, yet completely intangible that you sense when holding one so fresh from Heaven.

Life is a gift from the Heavenly Father, a marvelous gift I don’t truly comprehend. This morning I am so aware, and still so amazed by these words from Psalm 139:

¹³ For You formed my inward parts;
You covered me in my mother’s womb.
¹⁴ I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made;^[a]
Marvelous are Your works,
And that my soul knows very well.

Thank you Father for this precious new little life.  Thank you that you create each of us by the work of Your hands.  I am so overwhelmed by Your love and care for each of us.  May I live with the knowledge of this grace at the center of my heart and mind. amen.

                                  One of my favorite photos from this summer:  my sweet boy Isaac with my dad.

(This one’s for you, Dad!)

Picture it.  1982, or so.  I’m perched next to my sister on the brown and orange plaid backseat bench of my dad’s late 70’s brown Chevette. We’re driving around London, Ontario on some sort of errand, I have no idea what, and listening.  No, we’re straining to hear Ernie Harwell announce the Tiger’s game on a Detroit radio station…

Static crashes and tears away at his words.   “And it’s a hit to center field…”  but that’s all we hear.  My dad fiddles with the AM knob.  This was back in the day when the listener was completely responsible to tune in the station – no automatic harness of sound at the push of a button.  You had to really want it.  And we did.

It wasn’t easy to gather up enough waves from the atmosphere to hear a game being played in Detroit all the way in London, three hours away. Dad’s the one who taught me to keep at it.  A born and bred baseball fan, he taught us girls to love the game too, mostly by his dedication to listening through the static.

Listening can be complicated sometimes.  It was true about baseball back then and it is true about life now, I suppose.  It wasn’t long before the summer of 1982 that my dad demonstrated he was listening.  By God’s call, He moved our family  from Danville Illinois to a new life in London, Ontario.  Through all of the earthly strains, He listened and obeyed.  And we were forever changed. There had to have been plenty of static at the point of decision. I’m still amazed by my dad and how he listened then.

Well, my life has had a lot of static this week.  Crazy noise, drowning out my ability to hear anything. And I squint and grit my teeth and hold my breath. I imagine I probably look a lot like my dad while doing it…  But its just loudness.  deafening sound.   I fool with the knobs to adjust the station… Is HE even saying anything?  at all?  And I know He is, I just can’t hear it; His voice is muffled by my own inability to listen.

Static.  Squeals and feed back and ruffles of sound in the form of : a crisis with a friend.  Emotions run amuck when I find yet another situation completely out of my control.  Thoughts that cast fear and doubt over the future.  Envy of someone else’s something or other.  Gossip and rumors over unimportant nonsense. All of it creating distance and diversion from the one voice I long to hear.  If I could just find that station.  If I could just tune in…

And I find it.  It is my gratefulness that subdues all of the other noise.  “Tune my heart to sing thy praise.”  And I realize it is just that.  There is plenty of chaos swirling in waves around me.  But, when I focus on Him, His goodness…when I can see the redemptive pieces of my life’s puzzle falling into place, by His hand of mercy… Then.  Only then I hear His voice.

He is always speaking.  I just have to tune in to His station.

Thank you, Dad for teaching me how to tune in and listen.

beautiful words from Psalm 40:5-11

⁵ Many, O LORD my God, are Your wonderful works
Which You have done;
And Your thoughts toward us
Cannot be recounted to You in order;
If I would declare and speak of them,
They are more than can be numbered.

⁶ Sacrifice and offering You did not desire;
My ears You have opened.
Burnt offering and sin offering You did not require.
⁷ Then I said, “Behold, I come;
In the scroll of the book it is written of me.
⁸ I delight to do Your will, O my God,
And Your law is within my heart.”

⁹ I have proclaimed the good news of righteousness
In the great assembly;
Indeed, I do not restrain my lips,
O LORD, You Yourself know.
¹⁰ I have not hidden Your righteousness within my heart;
I have declared Your faithfulness and Your salvation;
I have not concealed Your lovingkindness and Your truth
From the great assembly.

¹¹ Do not withhold Your tender mercies from me, O LORD;
Let Your lovingkindness and Your truth continually preserve me.

I made ugly cookies this weekend.  You know the kind.  The kind that make you turn your head and frown with disappointment.  I had been hoping they’d be picturesque, but instead they are just …. well, they’re just plain ugly.  Yep.  That’s how my cookies turned out.  I promise you they smelled divine while they were baking.  And they taste even better – but they do not look good at all.

So, because of their appearance, I didn’t want to post pictures, mostly because I have a reputation to keep up you know.  I wouldn’t want anyone to know that I create a complete flop every once in a while in my baking.  I only want you to see my perfect products.  Only the beautiful creations...

Turns out this is kind of how I live my life.  There are things about me that are ugly.  I work, no, I labor over them to be sure no one sees.  Even as God is working in my heart, making something beautiful out of my life, I hide in shame.  I wouldn’t want anyone to know that I might have junk to work through.  Only the beautiful, please…

Warm from the oven, my children gobbled down cookie after cookie.  They did not notice my concern over the esthetic qualities that were lacking.  Nope.  They did not care one iota.   I guess thats a good thing, I mean they are who I made the cookies for anyway.   Ultimately, I don’t bake for the camera.  I make cookies and cakes and pies for my precious little family, friends and loved ones.  Their opinions are the ones that count.

This very thought brings a good question to my mind, “Who am I living for, anyway?”  If I’m concerned about what people think, I’ve completely missed the mark.  The one who matters, The One who counts in this lifetime is my Heavenly Father.  and what does He say about me?

All is now beautiful…

True and glorious words from Romans 3:

²¹ But now the righteousness of God apart from the law is revealed, being witnessed by the Law and the Prophets, ²² even the righteousness of God, through faith in Jesus Christ, to all and on all who believe. For there is no difference; ²³ for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, ²⁴ being justified freely by His grace through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, ²⁵whom God set forth as a propitiation by His blood, through faith, to demonstrate His righteousness, because in His forbearance God had passed over the sins that were previously committed, ²⁶ to demonstrate at the present time His righteousness, that He might be just and the justifier of the one who has faith in Jesus.

In my mind I may have a hard time letting go; I can’t believe that I have been justified.  But it is true:  all has been made right.  According to God’s word, there is only the truth of His beauty and the reality of His forgiveness, given to me as His daughter… I just have to believe it is true.

That is His truth! How beautiful!

amen.