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!

who knows?

Good Friday…

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There are moments when I sit down to write here, on daily portion, and I can’t.  Today, on this Good Friday, it is one of those times.There is a lot that I could say this morning, I suppose, but it all feels useless – like a distraction.

All I can do is reflect on Words from Scripture.  Oh how I want them to penetrate my heart.  He died for me, for my sin.    Somehow I cannot fully comprehend His sacrifice.  I’m not sure I ever will.

from John 19:

1 Then Pilate took Jesus and had him flogged. 2 The soldiers twisted together a crown of thorns and put it on his head. They clothed him in a purple robe 3 and went up to him again and again, saying, “Hail, king of the Jews!” And they slapped him in the face.

 4 Once more Pilate came out and said to the Jews gathered there, “Look, I am bringing him out to you to let you know that I find no basis for a charge against him.” 5 When Jesus came out wearing the crown of thorns and the purple robe, Pilate said to them, “Here is the man!”

 6 As soon as the chief priests and their officials saw him, they shouted, “Crucify! Crucify!”

*****

17 Carrying his own cross, he went out to the place of the Skull (which in Aramaic is called Golgotha). 18 There they crucified him, and with him two others—one on each side and Jesus in the middle.

 19 Pilate had a notice prepared and fastened to the cross. It read: JESUS OF NAZARETH, THE KING OF THE JEWS. 

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

28 Later, knowing that everything had now been finished, and so that Scripture would be fulfilled, Jesus said, “I am thirsty.” 29 A jar of wine vinegar was there, so they soaked a sponge in it, put the sponge on a stalk of the hyssop plant, and lifted it to Jesus’ lips. 30 When he had received the drink, Jesus said, “It is finished.” With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.

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

I am overwhelmed and completely broken at the knowledge of His sacrifice. and my heart is grateful that Friday doesn’t last forever.
friends and loved ones · green thumb envy...

new girl on the block…

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We planted her on Saturday.  A beautiful, slender, young flaming maple.  Our front yard was desperate for some shade and we thought she’d be perfect. So, we picked her out at the nursery and brought her home.  She’s tethered and staked right now; we’re hoping she’ll grow straight up towards heaven, tall and strong.  There’s already been storms to weather, but so far, she’s still standing. She reminds me of someone…

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

She stood at the front door today, my 10 1/2 year old beauty, coming in from playing with the neighbor kids.  Lip quivering, eyes brimming.  She was the perfect girl for us all of those years ago when we brought her home, and she still is.  I couldn’t have asked the Heavenly Father for more.

But this afternoon, I almost didn’t recognize her.  She was different today…

Her heart belongs to Jesus, you know; The Word sewn deeply into the soil of her heart, truths holding her fast when the hard winds blow.  We’ve done what we know to do and we’re hoping she’ll shoot up straight and tall, a strong woman of God.

We sat down, my sweet girl, who seemed so mature, and I.  Girl, mostly young lady.  *sigh*   and she told me the story.  A story about a poor choice and the outcome.  tears rolling.  Oh, its nothing huge that will ruin her life, by all means.  But, a contrite heart before the Lord is never a small thing.  So, I held her hand,  as she revealed her broken heart to me.  We prayed and we talked and she expressed the joy of forgiveness.

And I wept with sweet relief.  Maybe we’ll make it through the storms after all.

There’s a new girl on the block – no, today a precious young woman.  My heart is just a bit heavy because her life here in our home is shooting by at the speed of lightening.  But, I’m thankful her heart is tethered to His.  And I’m grateful I get to watch her grow up mighty in her faith, tender in His hands.

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Will the real, best-ever, chocolate chip cookie please stand?

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Here it is.  This is hands down, without question, THE BEST EVER chocolate chip cookie.  It definitely stands out above all the others I have tried.

This is a family recipe from my mom’s Great Aunt Katie.  Growing up it was the only chocolate chip cookie I ever experienced.  If there were cookies in my mom’s oven, I’m pretty sure these were the ones she was making.

And they are heavenly.  seriously.  I wouldn’t lie about such a serious matter.

Well, because Mondays often turn out to need more than a cup of coffee, I thought I would share this recipe, in case today is one of those Mondays for you.  So, with love, from the bottom of my heart, I give you:

Chocolate Chip Cookies

Ingredients:

2/3 cup shortening, 2/3 cup butter, 1 cup sugar, 1 cup brown sugar, 2 eggs, 2 tsp vanilla, 3 cups flour, 1 tsp soda, 1 tsp salt, 2 cups of chocolate chips.

Instructions:

Heat oven to 375.  Cream shortening, butter, sugars.  Add eggs and vanilla.  Then combine flour, soda and salt in a bowl. combine wet and dry ingredients.   Mix in chocolate chips.  chill dough in refrigerator for an hour.  put heaping tablespoons of dough on cookie sheet and bake for 8-10 minutes.

Go.  Go to your kitchen now and bake.  Your portal to Heaven awaits.

md

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don’t go it alone

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Well, its almost a week later, after my first race.  I’ve basked in the glory.  I’ve nursed sore muscles.  I’ve planned for the future and I’ve thought.  a lot.   There were a lot of things that I learned from running my first 5K.  But there is one particular lesson that I am trying to take to heart.

On the morning of the big day, I was feeling good.  I had trained and I was ready.  As the start time approached, I looked around and realized something really important.  A lot of people had a running buddy.  They were there with someone;  a friend to help them keep their pace, to encourage, or to distract…

Personally, I had trained alone.  I enjoy the refreshment that comes with exercising by myself, so running on my own didn’t seem strange.  I tend towards the independent side anyway, so what’s the big deal right?  Surely I could run a little 5K race, a short 30-40 minutes by myself.  No biggie.

After that first mile, I realized how wrong I was.  I had no idea how much I was going to wish there was someone with more experience running at my side.  Or maybe a friend to simply remind me I was strong and I could do it.  But there was no one, and no amount of wishing was going to fix it.  And so, I had to try to pace myself, which I was terrible at in the middle of all the excitement. And I had to encourage myself, which I could barely form a thought after about the first mile…

There was a reason all of those other runners had a partner.  and I was learning why mid-race.

This is not unlike my life as a believer.  And let me just say, that as a follower of Christ, I do realize that I am never alone.  I know that there is Jesus, who by the power and presence of the Holy Spirit never leaves me or forsakes me.  However, I do find myself of “loner” mind-set, trying to make it by myself, when really there’s another way.  There are others running the race, following Christ.  And He says, don’t do the race alone; love one another, encourage one another, pace your steps together and help each other if you fall.

I realized this week, after all of this soul-searching, that I am probably not the only one running alone.  As much as I need encouragement, there is probably someone who needs the same.   I may need to give up a bit of my pride and my “I’ll go it alone” attitude, so that I can run well, and maybe so that someone else can run well too.

I’m training for another race in May, hopefully.  But, in the meantime, I’m hoping to gather some new running buddies – not just for race day, but for life.  It is my prayer that God will guide each footstep and pace my journey. But here is fair warning: If you and I cross paths, I might just ask you to run with me…  I have no intention of going it alone, if I don’t have to.

a bit of history · home schooling

And the answer is…

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Maxwell Crescent.  That’s the name of the street where I spent a portion of my childhood – in London, Ontario. Growing up in Canada introduced me to a new culture full of different foods, friends and terminology.  There is one particular memory that sticks with me, even today.

I had made a new friend who lived down the street, named Carla.  Now Carla, as far as I know, was a full blooded Canadian – born and raised in London.  We were quick friends, walking to school together, playing around the neighborhood, riding bikes, ice skating in her backyard. (Yes, for you southerners, I said ice skating)  We were around each other a lot during those elementary years.  One of the first days we walked home from school, that first fall, I’ll never forget something she said.  Her house was just a few doors down on the opposite side of the street.  But as I stopped at my driveway and she kept walking, she shouted over her shoulder, “Call on me later so we can play!”  And with that, she disappeared around the bend in the road, into her house.

“Call on me…”  I mulled it over in my mind.  At nine years old I wasn’t sure what to do.  This was back in the day when I wasn’t allowed to pick up the phone just whenever I wanted… was I supposed to call her on the phone?  I was baffled.  I went inside and asked my mom.  My mom, who was also born and bred as a Canadian, explained that Carla wanted me to go over to her house and knock on the door.  She wanted me to come and get her so we could play together.  “Call” had nothing to do with dialing numbers on a phone.

It is a word that rings true today, in fact. (no pun intended)  You may know that my husband and I choose to home school our children.  If you were to peek at my calendar, you would see that our start date for school this year is on this coming Monday.  only two days away.  two short days.  I am prepared.  The books have been purchased, school supplies organized, lesson plans written.  In a lot of ways I am ready.

But today I began to doubt.  You see, there are a lot of things I can’t plan.  This is very upsetting to someone like me who is a planner by nature.  And as all of those “unplan-able” types of things began to mount up in my mind, my heart began to race.  What will Mackenzie do while I’m helping Isaac with his coloring?  How will I find time for Emily to practice piano if Mackenzie is napping?  Will I be able to get all of Emily’s school work done and still interact with Isaac on his activities?  And the questions piled up, right here in the room with me in tangible heaps of worry, messing up my previously neatly organized school nook.

It was when I put my hands over my face, in order to avoid making eye contact with the piles, that I heard Him say, “Call to me…”  Now, you may not know this, but I have been praying.  a lot.  I have covered every inch of my school nook, including the book case and the table and chairs and the text books in prayer.  But He said it again, persisting… “No, Call to me…”

And it dawned on me, He meant “call” just like Carla had said it.  Come over.  Let’s spend time in each other’s presence.  When these questions come up – He’s got the answer.  He didn’t mean, float some giant, nebulous prayer out into the cosmos. He doesn’t want me to leave a message on His answering machine so He can get back to me later.  No, He wants person to person contact.

Jeremiah 33:3 says, “Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know.”

And with that, my load of anxiety over all of these unanswerable, unforeseen questions evaporated into thin air.  I don’t have to know the answers.  I just have to spend time with The One who does…

amen.  thank you Lord.

md

(written August 13, 2010)

in my kitchen

oh sweet marie!

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I have to be honest with you on two counts.

First, I have no idea why these lovely little squares are called “Sweet Maries.”   I would love to offer you a quaint little anecdote – but, alas, I’ve got nothin’.

Second, these little treats are delightful.  They are wonderful.  But they are not fancy or impressive.  For me, that is why they hold such a special place in my heart.

If you have children at home these days, you probably also have all of the necessary ingredients to whip these little babies up in a jiffy.  So, have at it and enjoy every bite.    Simple bliss is only moments away!

Here’s the recipe:

Sweet Maries

instructions:

In a sauce pan bring 1/2 cup peanut butter, 1/2 cup brown sugar and 1/2 cup corn syrup (or honey) to a boil.  Remove from the heat. Then add 1/2 cup peanuts and 2 cups of cheerios or rice krispies.  (today I left out the nuts and did 2 1/2 cups of cereal) Spread the mixture in a 9×9 pan.  If you want you can sprinkle chocolate chips over the top while the mixture is still hot and then spread them over the top once they’ve melted.  (I don’t do the chocolate chips… shocking, I know.)

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Start to finish

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me and my “sole sisters” just before the race began.

It happened in 36 minutes and 47 seconds.  I learned amazing things in such a short amount of time – from the moment I heard the announcement, “runners, take your mark!” to the second I stepped across the finish line.

And yes, it took me that long to run 3.1 miles.  I’m a novice, you know.

So whether you want to know or not, I am going to share with you what I learned about myself.  I’m finding out that my life as a runner and my life as a believer have a lot in common.  In fact, when I read these, I find they apply to both lives…

* It is easier for me to run a race when I can picture the finish line.

*If it doesn’t require sweat and tears by the time you cross the finish line, it may not have been worth starting at all.

*Running is pain. and sweat.  lots of sweat.

*To run well, I have to capture my thoughts and hold them hostage, or else I will stop running completely.

*My heart is fickle.  The minute I was pressed and felt the struggle, I began to curse the very sun I’d requested to shine.  I was not happy to experience discomfort.

* I am proud – in the best and worst of senses.  the worst:  I would have rather died than walk across the finish line – that’s my haughty -no humility side – often worried about what others think. the best: I would have rather died than not finish – that’s my tenacious – never giving up side -believing the truth that there is victory thru Christ.

*When people are standing on the sidelines cheering me on, I can run farther, harder, longer.

*There is no absolute preparation for doing something you’ve never done before – only doing that very thing that is full of unknowns. And there is nothing that can bridge the gap between my desire to finish well and those unknowns like His grace. So, get on with it – because His grace will be more than enough.

*With God ALL is possible. not just a few. not some. not most.  ALL.

amen and amen.

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what finishing looks like

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I promise you, I realize I’m not a beauty queen at the beginning or at the end of a race.

But this.  This photo is what it looks like to finish.    Or maybe this is how it looks to start on a journey.  hmmm …  I guess time will tell.   Between now and that time, I have a bit to share about what happened during those three miles. three far from glorious miles.

But not today.

Today, I stare at this picture and revel in the grace of a God who is helping me run.

And I wonder, what else is He able to accomplish in me, if I let him?