Category: who knows?

because not everything fits perfectly

who knows?

living with seams…

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I have taken up sewing recently. A friend is helping revisit the skill I learned a long time ago with my mom. The result: two very cute green and white polka dotted dresses for my darling daughters.

I’m relearning how to use the bobbin, needles and thread, the machine, the little utensil that pulls out poor stitching (I’m using that a fair amount.) – all are a part of creating seams and hems, neck holes and arm holes. Eventually I’ll have beautiful little dresses.

My life, like these dresses, is not seamless. Today I’ve been imagining God’s word like a strong thread, binding the seams of my life together. As long as I continue to sew His words into the way I live, I’ll survive the stress that living brings. More often than not I feel the fabric of my life being pulled taut, testing the strength of my stitching. But God’s word holds firm, my seams are tight.

If I’ve not been a good seamstress, I may have the wrong stuff threading my needle. Often I try to hold my life together with ideas that the world has to offer. But in the end that always requires the painful, sometimes heart wrenching removal of stitching. No matter what I try, the world’s thread never holds up under pressure.

Today I tested my seam-work. I took my three children to the pool. Just getting all of us from our front door to the shallow end of the community pool required stitches of kindness, patience, self control, perseverance and joy. I felt them pulling, but they held strong. Its a good thing that thread was made of the Holy Spirit himself, rather than something man made. At one point I was sure that my very fabric might be shred to tiny pieces, but HE was faithful and my seams held together.

Looking on the inside of my life’s garment, I see what some might not find pleasing to the eye – the knots, the frayed edges, the inner stitching. But to me, this is the strength, wisdom and grace for living, and for these seams I am grateful. I am a work in progress, my own garment is not finished. But, I am thankful that because of the Holy Spirit, it holds firm, making living life a beautiful thing.

The true beauty of a woman, as a wife and mother is pictured in Proverbs 31:

24 She makes linen garments and sells them,
and supplies the merchants with sashes.
25 She is clothed with strength and dignity;
she can laugh at the days to come.
26 She speaks with wisdom,
and faithful instruction is on her tongue.
27 She watches over the affairs of her household
and does not eat the bread of idleness.
28 Her children arise and call her blessed;
her husband also, and he praises her:
29 “Many women do noble things,
but you surpass them all.”
30 Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting;
but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.

(Originally written June 22, 2010)

a photo from summer 2010, of me and my girls in their pillow case dresses

who knows?

poser

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On highway 27, headed towards downtown, just as you reach the Signal Mountain Boulevard exit, if you look up and to your left, you’ll see it.  Not long ago, it was a hill, full of greenery and trees, with an apartment complex nestled in behind it.  But now, due to construction and extensive tree removal, the hill is almost completely bare and the apartment complex is exposed to the brazen, unrelenting world of traffic below.  I say almost bare, because there is one thing left standing.

It is almost a tree.  But, not really. It is a cell tower that was made to look as though it was a part of the once lush greenery that surrounded it.  What you see now, when you drive down 27, and look up towards that hill is a really tall cell tower, standing alone, with fake greenery adorning only the highest point, but no other greenery of any kind around it.

It is ridiculous looking standing there trying to be a tree.  However the irony is not lost on me.  The very tree limbs that were attached to make the tower look as though it fit in its surroundings, now make the tall giant look foolish, with everything else green completely stripped away.

Over the past six months, whenever I pass that spot on the highway I have wondered.  What camouflage am I hiding behind?  Who am I trying to be, in order to fit in or earn acceptance?   More often than not, I end the day and realize I have been working; working so hard to be all the things I don’t have to be.  Striving for perfection, laboring for others positive opinion, and trying, trying, trying… And the harder I try, the more I’m exhausted and  look just plain foolish.

As the Holy Spirit strips away all of my unnecessary efforts, exposing me for the poser that I am,  He is also so good to revive my heart and soul. God’s Word is so clear.  I don’t have be all of the things I’m not.

I can rest.

Matthew 11 quotes my Savior this way:

28 Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.29 Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.”

and from Ephesians 2:

8 For by grace you have been saved through faith, and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God, 9 not of works, lest anyone should boast.

There is so much relief in these verses.  His gift, my escape, means no more efforts to be who I’m not, only who He desires me to be.  Whew.

Thank you Heavenly Father for this rest that only You can give.  I can relax inside your mercy and goodness this morning.  and I am beyond grateful.  amen.

********************************

A new song I’ve been listening to has words that remind me regularly of this truth.

Rest Easy….

You are not alone
I will always be with you
Even to the end

You don’t have to work so hard
You can rest easy
You don’t have to prove yourself
You’re already mine
You don’t have to hide your heart
I already love you
I hold it in mine
So you can rest easy

Do not be afraid
Nothing, nothing in the world
Can come between us now

You work so hard to wear yourself down
And you’re running like a rodeo clown
You’re smiling like you’re scared to death
You’re out of faith and all out of breath
You’re so afraid you’ve got nowhere left to go

Well, you are not alone
I will always be with you

** Text from Andrew Peterson’s album, “Light for the Lost Boy.” ****

***********************************************

who knows?

Psalm 139- because I love this chapter…

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(these are my own thoughts from Psalm 139… )

You can see my heart, Lord and you know me.

You know when I get out of bed in the morning, and you can see what kind of day this is going to be for me.

You know when I have lots to do – if there’s more laundry than I can get done, too many errands to run – and if I’ve been up all night with Mackenzie.  You are aware of it all.

Long before I say or do something (or write something) – You know about it.  Lord, you are ahead of me, paving the way – and your hand is on me, even today.

This knowledge is unbelievable – I can hardly contain myself .  I am overjoyed to know that You are so involved in my life.  But – at the same time I can barely understand it- is it possible that the creator of the Universe is so present?

Its true – I can’t go anywhere without you.  If I have to drive up Signal Mountain, you’re there.  If I stay home buried in house work – you’re here too.  If I have an incredible day, where I feel like I’m soaring high – You are there…  No matter where I am, or what I have to do – You are with me, hovering near, holding me close, guiding me with your own gentle hand.

If I have a day that is dark with confusion and dread – You alone are my light, shining hope and comfort into the night of my heart.

You created me, from the very beginning, and You designed every part of me.  This deserves more praise than I can possibly give You.  Each little detail, You planned and brought into being.  Not one inch of my history, not one bit of who I am is a surprise or secret to You.  This is absolutely beyond incredible.  amazing.  stunning.

Even when I am in the middle of conflict, I know that You will take care of it.  No matter how many wars between evil and good seem to take over this world, even when terrible men assault You and your name – I know You are in control.  I do not need to fear.

Lord, search me today.  Test my heart and my thoughts.  If I’m not walking in the way that You have for me, change my path.  Lead me to You.

amen and amen.

(written November 2010)

friends and loved ones · who knows?

On Potty Seats and Training Pants…

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I originally wrote this blog entry several years ago, while  potty training this sweet boy, Isaac – who, by the way actually is potty trained now!  🙂  But, I needed this reminder today…

There comes a time in a mother’s life when she expects all of her hard work to come to fruition. Its a specific point where her success or failure is measured.

Where does every mother of a preschooler come to feel this pressure? The very understanding that this is a matter of life and death? In the bathroom, that’s where. I am that mother, with that sense of urgency this morning. Unfortunately, my son does not share that sense with me.

To my children, I’ve become that woman who runs around the house, slightly frazzled, constantly asking, “Do you need to go potty?” My sweet little boy, who never answers yes, is taken to the bathroom religiously on the hour. Sometimes we make it in time. Sometimes we don’t. And, as we change his pants, because invariably we have at least one accident in one form or another on a daily basis, he says things to me like, “I wuv you mommy, I hug you.” or, “I tell you next time mommy. tomorrow I poo poo on the potty.”

If you are a mother of a son in elementary school, I know what you are going to tell me. You are going to say that one day the light bulb will come on and he will just start doing what he needs to do. While that is encouraging – it is not enough for the moment. There are days when I feel confident that my son will need pull ups for his dorm room in college. I assure you I cannot afford pull ups into the next decade.

So far this morning we have been to the potty three times. My son has managed to make it without any accidents. And he has promised me each time that he plans to poo poo on the potty later today, but it is still asleep. (please don’t ask me what that means, because I don’t know) However, he also tells me that Larry the Cucumber poo poos on the potty and does not have accidents in his pull up. I am not encouraged.

But, just now as we finished up and washed hands, he hugged me and I kissed him on the forehead. And I had a moment. I briefly, but distinctly heard the heavenly father say, “Why don’t you talk to me about this?”

Surely the God of the universe is not interested in my son’s potty training habits.

But I am reminded that actually, He is. Or maybe he is interested in the general well being of our household. Whichever the case I feel confident He wants me to talk to Him about it. And not just about this, but about all of it.

It seems that He gave me these Scripture verses from Romans 12 this morning to encourage me in my very particular situation. Its sandwiched in the middle of a chapter about being a servant. How ironic, as I learn again how to be a servant on this journey with my son.

Romans 12 : 11-12 Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.

He cares about the small stuff – and the big stuff, like potty training. He gives me a new word to help me through each day, even each minute. And today I needed to know that He cares. Its grace for this very moment, even as the timer rings. Its time to take someone to the potty.

md

(one of my favorites, originally written February 10, 2010)

a bit of history · who knows?

A calendar of “Yes Days”

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Today will be a ‘Yes Day!’ I can hear the lilt in her voice, even now. My great grandmother would say it regularly to my sister and I during our summer visits. A ‘Yes Day’?!? Again? Of course it could not be a ‘No Day’ – not at GG’s house – not ever.

Usually over breakfast she would approach us with the declaration of a yes day. Breakfast was special because she would buy those little boxes of cereal and we would get to choose what cereal we wanted. This was a treat of epic proportions because my mom did not ever buy sugar cereals. Only a yes day could begin with something as special as “little boxes.”

I guess it was her way of keeping the whining and complaining at bay. She would say, “But today is a Yes Day.” And it worked. Somehow, she said it with such confidence in her voice that the grumpies would turn into giggles. It was as if she was a magician making them disappear like that.

As a mom, I would like to be a magician, just like my GG. I have attempted it with my daughter Emily. Especially since we home school – its easy to get into the routine of accepting a bit of whining and complaining. Recently I adapted the ‘Yes Day’ method. One day my daughter looked at me and said, “But mom, we just had a yes day yesterday.” Clearly she felt it was her right to have a no day once in a while.

Honestly, I’ve had my moments where I thought it was my right to have a ‘No Day!’ I’ve complained to God more often than I should. My house isn’t in the right neighborhood. I don’t have the right clothes. My children won’t act right in public. Why can’t my dishwasher unload itself? I’ve been telling my daughter to have a ‘yes day’ all the while my ‘no days’ have been prolific…

Colossians 3: 16-17 says, “Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom, and as you sing psalms, hymns and spiritual songs with gratitude in your hearts to God. And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.”

Thanksgiving is this week and so, I’ve made a resolution. Its really only appropriate that it begins at this holiday. I’m going to clear the calendar of ‘no days’. I have so much to be thankful for – there really is no excuse to complain and whine. God has been so good – heaping blessing upon blessing onto my little family. And maybe, just maybe, as I begin to be thankful, my children will be able to follow suit. No magic, just a change of heart.

Thank you Father for all of the many good gifts you have given me! Help me to keep this in the front of my mind throughout each day. I give you praise and thank you with my whole heart! Amen.

And now, I have a ‘yes day’ to get started!

md

(written November 24, 2009)

md

a bit of history · who knows?

mountain mover

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It was delivered last week.  Two tons of river rock.  The “rock guy” dumped it in our front yard to the left of the driveway, a mountain of tiny smooth stones.  Every time I stepped out the front door, the big pile of rocks was staring back at me.  All weekend, I avoided making eye contact. My time was coming, but I didn’t want to dwell on it.  Not yet.

Well, this morning was my date with those stones.  While there was still significant shade and temperatures were low, I got on my boots and gloves, grabbed the shovel and moved the wheelbarrow into place.  It was time to transport the rocks to the backyard.  Specifically : uphill, to the site of the workshop, which we are preparing to build.

You may not know, but, my husband had a procedure on his hand a few days ago, and so in order to not interfere with healing, the mountain moving work fell directly onto my shoulders.  With lumber being ordered recently, and hopefully delivered shortly after we return from the beach, it became clear that the vapor barrier and layer of stones needed to be put in place this week.  And I was the one to do it.

It went like this:  shovel stones into wheel barrow.  push wheel barrow up the hill to the backyard.  empty wheel barrow and spread stones.  repeat.  again and again and again.  Many cups of water and lots of sweat later I succumbed to my earthly body and gave up for the morning, with plans to continue the work in the cool of the morning, tomorrow.  I felt pretty good about the effort, but realized my inadequacy when I looked out the back window :  I didn’t even finish half of the job.

While I was hard at work first thing this morning, I thought about other mountains that had been moved in my life, mountains that were moved on my behalf.  I’m a hard worker in the best of senses, but even I know that there have been times when I was powerless to make things happen.    Only God could….

There was the mountain that moved when I moved to Tennessee, with a tiny amount of savings and only a very small part time job, and no place to live, that He provided for me. Then there was the time that I was able to purchase my piano, which I never thought I would be able to do.  And I can’t forget the moment when I realized I was working my last full time day in the corporate world; I was going  home full time to be with my children because the need for that income, which had been a huge mountain, was eliminated.  And there are so many, many more accounts of mountains moved.

All of these memories kept me moving, up and down the hill, shoveling, one more time.  You see, this whole building a guitar workshop project sometimes feels very daunting.  Not just the building process of the shop, but the making guitars business that will follow.   I really  have no idea how it is all going to work out and a lot of days it seems like a HUMONGOUS mountain that is immovable and impassable.  But, as I relived those memories of how God has already moved really big barriers on my behalf over and over again, the wheel barrow wasn’t quite so heavy, the backyard didn’t seem so steep and the work began to pass by quickly…

These words mean something entirely different to me this evening, as I examine the future…

from Matthew 17:20:

for assuredly, I say to you, if you have faith as a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move; and nothing will be impossible for you. 

Heavenly Father, You have always been my mountain mover.  When I’ve thought there was no way, you have made the way plain, removed obstacles, taken down barriers.  Restore the belief in my heart for what is ahead.  Give me the faith to keep moving in the right direction.   amen.

friends and loved ones · who knows?

the golden door…

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If you were to travel down one of the short streets in Middle Valley, you would come across a house, the first house on the right to be exact.  And there you would see a small split foyer home with a newly painted bright yellow front door.  My front door.  We finished the project a few weeks ago, but I still find myself staring at it.  No one’s front door in this neighborhood is as pretty as mine, that’s what I tell myself.

Truthfully, we recently made the decision to stay here at our house, and do some things to really make it our own, rather than moving.  Our split foyer needed some curb appeal; the door was just the first effort towards making the outside more visually pleasing and inviting, maybe even hospitable.

Well, I’ve been thinking about the door.  I have been ever since we began considering changing it.  Scripture pictures Jesus knocking at a door, patiently waiting for those who are not yet believers to acknowledge Him.  He is no respecter of doors, beautiful or otherwise.  He died and rose again for all,  not just the folks who have pretty golden doors.

More to the point,  I’m challenged to really believe that He offers forgiveness to everyone here, in my neighborhood.  Everyone. Not just the loveliest ones.  Its so easy to believe that He’s forgiven me, because I have solid moral values and I’m taking good care of my family and I home school and my house is (fairly) clean – and the list goes on and on…  Here, in my part of town, not everyone lives this same way.

There’s the house a street or two over with really tall grass and a maroon front door that is dirty and looks like it may fall off the hinges any day.  Another house where there were gun shots a few weeks ago; that door is dark blue and had the glass broken out for a while.  And another home where there appears to be stuff piled everywhere, so much so that is billowing out from their garage, into the driveway.  I can’t even tell what the color of their door is.   Its easy for me to dismiss these in their un-lovely state.

But Jesus, He knocks at every door with the promises of forgiveness and everlasting life.  He stands at the door, because to Him,  ALL doors are golden:

20 Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears My voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and dine with him, and he with Me.  (from Revelation 3)

What if every time I catch myself admiring my own door,  I remember to gaze at the doors of the homes nearby the way Jesus does?  No distinctions, only  seeing with His eyes of love and praying with a heart for His redeeming work to be done.

Heavenly Father, As you continue the work in our hearts, will you make us a part of your plan to draw others to yourself? Please take our golden door and use it as you see fit; we long to be hospitable and inviting, even loving to those around us.  Help me to remember that every door is a golden one.   amen.

who knows?

Thursday’s list

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I was headed downstairs this morning for my work out.  It was just before 7, a bit earlier than usual.  Thursdays are my super busy day, and especially so today.  Dentist appointments, school with Emily, a few errands, and piano lessons all afternoon.  Whew!

As I sat down on the couch to put on my shoes I thought to myself, “I better get my list going, or I’m going to forget something…”  I am a mom of three, after all, and somedays I feel as though I gave all of my short term memory brain cells to my children.  All of them.

“I need my laptop, Em’s school books, I’ve got to grab my water bottle, a change of clothes for Mackenzie…”

Interruption from a still, small, voice…

“Are you putting Me on the list?”

It took me a minute, but I recognized Him.

“Well, of course I’m taking You – You’re a part of me – You go everywhere with me.”  

These are my learned Sunday School answers from childhood.

“Yes, that’s all true. But once we’re on the road, sometimes You turn my volume down…”

My face grew flush.  I’m caught.  It’s too true.  On the craziest of days, when I’m on the go, I’m rather hard of hearing.  He’s there, He’s talking, He’s helping, but I’m not listening.  These are the days when I probably need Him the most – But, they are the days when I rush ahead. alone.

These are also the days when I’m more likely to: forget something, hurt someone’s feelings, be impatient, be angry, be…  well, everything He’s offered to help me NOT be.  He truly is in my heart – but sometimes I turn the volume down on the intercom between my heart and head.  And then – I’m left with nothing.  Except ugliness.

On the days when I am the busiest, those are the days that I need to make the most room for Him. Anything less brings terrible consequences.

Holy Spirit,

Keep me aware of your presence today.  Help me to stay on the path that You have laid for me.  Let me listen to Your voice.  I know I can’t make it by myself.  I need you.Thank you for wanting to be on my list.  Amen

And with that, I’m on the run.  I have a list to finish up – but He’s going to be at the top!

md

written originally on September 23, 2010.

who knows?

Identity…

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Today we attended Emily’s second ever piano recital. She played three songs from memory absolutely perfectly. It was amazing. I couldn’t have been more proud. The moments were captured on video and I’m sure we will watch it again and again.

You may know that there are many, many piano recitals in my history. Most of them I was playing the piano on the program. In fact, I don’t really know how to sit and fully listen at a recital. I’m used to focusing on my performance. But today things changed.

Previously, I’ve been the recital performer, anxiously waiting my turn, playing with enthusiasm and looking forward to compliments and encouragement at the end of the ordeal. This was my operating mode at recitals in the past. Always playing, never listening – I was the one being recorded, or photographed, rarely was I the one holding the video camera or microphone.

As a grown woman, who rarely gets to play my beloved instrument, I am not the pianist I was. What used to be such a huge part of me has been torn from my clutches. And not willingly, I might add. It has been a long road, but God in his rich mercy has worked at molding my identity, at changing my perception of myself.

In my earlier years I would have viewed my worth based on “Melody, pianist.” But as that title has been slowly stripped away, underneath He has shown me a new “Melody.” I am now “Melody, beloved of the Heavenly Father.” I am a daughter of the King – its a far better title than any that I had previously attributed to myself.

Today, I held my camera with shaking hands while videoing my precious daughter play her three songs. At this recital, I was “Emily’s Mom” and absolutely proud to be. Not many years ago it would have been so difficult to be anything other than the performer. But today, in this new role, I can tell you I was at ease. Who I am no longer has anything to do with what I can accomplish, or what sonata I can play. But, it has everything to do with the One who loves me. As I live and breathe and move, belonging to Him, I can be whoever He wants me to be.

Thank you Heavenly Father for the peace and rest that comes from being loved with such an everlasting, unconditional love.

I Am His and He is Mine…

Loved with everlasting love, led by grace that love to know;

Gracious Spirit from above, Thou hast taught me it is so!

O this full and perfect peace! O this transport all divine!

In a love which cannot cease, I am His, and He is mine.

In a love which cannot cease, I am His, and He is mine.

Heav’n above is softer blue, Earth around is sweeter green!

Something lives in every hue Christless eyes have never seen;

Birds with gladder songs o’erflow, flowers with deeper beauties shine,

Since I know, as now I know, I am His, and He is mine.

Since I know, as now I know, I am His, and He is mine.

Things that once were wild alarms cannot now disturb my rest;

Closed in everlasting arms, pillowed on the loving breast.

O to lie forever here, doubt and care and self resign,

While He whispers in my ear, I am His, and He is mine.

While He whispers in my ear, I am His, and He is mine.

His forever, only His; Who the Lord and me shall part?

Ah, with what a rest of bliss Christ can fill the loving heart!

Heav’n and earth may fade and flee, firstborn light in gloom decline;

But while God and I shall be, I am His, and He is mine.

But while God and I shall be, I am His, and He is mine.

md

originally written may 16, 2010.

friends and loved ones · who knows?

I know, that I know, that I know….

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We looked out the front living room glass early on Easter Eve.  It was dark out, the sun wasn’t up yet…  and we stared.  There dangling right in our view, framed by our window, was the biggest, bright white moon  you have ever seen.  It was breathtaking and almost unbelievable.

I got myself ready in my Easter finery – then Emily, Isaac and Mackenzie.  We loaded up the van and headed out for our church, for an early morning rehearsal, before all of our services would begin.  And there – in the East, rising from behind a ridge, I caught a glimpse, and then a gaze at this big round hot Sun – fully ablaze.  It wasn’t just golden – It was fiery and burning.  I don’t think I have ever witnessed a sunrise of this magnitude.  ever.

I’ve been thinking it over, all day yesterday and this morning too.  I don’t know why the sun was so surprising…    While I’m confident there is a lot more science involved, wasn’t that moon just a signal?  a reminder that the sun was coming…

Well, at church yesterday morning I was reminded that this is clearly a reflection of life as a believer…  Everything around us reminds us of THE SON.  Our Pastor put it so clearly.  I am not a greek scholar, by any means, but what He said made it so obvious.  In the greek, there is a phrase that describes the resurrection account that really means, He didn’t just rise back then – He goes on rising, meaning : He lives now and forever.

The truth is that everything around us is shouting out that He lives and that the Son is coming again…   There is nothing more important in my life than those Words.  It is true.  He died a terrible death on the cross. He was buried in a grave.  Yes, it happened as payment for my sin.  BUT.  He rose from the dead and He is living now with total and permanent victory over death.

Yesterday, there was a song in our Easter Service that cemented these truths in place for me, one more time.  (Because I am human, I easily forget the joy of believing whole heartedly…)   And I thought I would share them here!

Hallelujah!  I Know My Redeemer Lives!

Who taught the sun where to stand in the morning?
And who told the ocean you can only come this far?
And who showed the moon where to hide till evening?
Whose words alone can catch a falling star?

Well I know my Redeemer lives
I know my Redeemer lives
All of creation testifies
This life within me cries
I know my Redeemer lives

The very same God
That spins things in orbit
Runs to the weary, the worn and the weak
And the same gentle hands that hold me when I’m broken
They conquered death to bring me victory

Now I know, my Redeemer lives
I know my Redeemer lives
Let all creation testify
Let this life within me cry
I know My Redeemer  lives
To take away my shame
And He lives
Forever I’ll proclaim
That the payment for my sins
Was the precious life He gave
And now He’s alive and
There’s an empty
Grave!