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ugly duckling

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My stage debut was in the first grade.  I remember it like it was yesterday.  My teacher asked for people to raise their hands for the part they wanted…  I did and within moments I was given the lead role just like that.  Yep, I requested to be the star of the first grade play; I was “The Ugly Duckling.”

I couldn’t understand why there wasn’t much competition.

The play was mostly just narration; I didn’t have many lines as the duckling, I just had to act the part.  dejected.  lonely.  unloved.   My favorite part was at the end, when I got to “float” around our first grade classroom like a swan. At age six  I remember thinking  what a strange story it was.

Recently I purchased the book, “The Ugly Duckling”  by Hans Christian Andersen to read with my children.  I couldn’t remember the complete story line all of these thirty years later, but felt sure it had something to do with renewal and that possibly it had a few good thoughts for Easter.  But, as I read it out loud today, I almost choked on some of the words.

This story had become all too real just hours before reading it with my children. I found myself in my very own ugly duckling moment. It came from an email, answering an inquiry.  It was a response saying, “Thanks, but no thanks.  You’re not the one, not this time.”  I was completely crushed, feeling dejected.  lonely. unloved.  ugly.

And I  wondered in my smallest, vulnerable, private thoughts, “When will I get to be the swan? ”  Because, even though I want to believe I’m a swan,  regularly I consider myself awkward, unlikeable, even strange…  more of an ugly duck.

But when I read this question from the story of the Ugly Duckling, I was reminded of the gospel.

“What does it matter where one is born if one is hatched from a swan’s egg?”

The truth of God’s Word pierced my heart with those words.    When I became a Christ follower, I was completely renewed and reborn by the love of the Heavenly Father who gave His Son to die for my sins.   No matter what my situation is,  how others make me feel, or if I’m completely rejected in this earthly life, nothing can change who He has made me to be.  In His eyes, I am His beautiful child, loved and adored.   Even if its hard for me to comprehend, I am His amazing creation.

I am a swan.

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celebrating a day in the life…

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Welcome spring…  I feel life bubbling up, spreading out into the dormant places of my heart… There is joy in this humble, grateful heart over the little things.

The tiny things.

Like a fresh blue table cloth, beneath text books, a lap top and school work completed (mostly…)

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keys played loudly at the end of a much needed, peaceful quiet time,

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books to snuggle up with like old, dear friends.

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fresh brownies.

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adventure for the inquisitive hearts and minds.

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and this blessed reminder, why I can rejoice in Springtime at all…  because of this cross, this death and resurrection – symbolic here, but forever authentic in the hearts of all who believe!  It makes each day of life worth celebrating!

friends and loved ones

rolling grace, perpetual mercy

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We sat together in her nursery, my friend and I did.  She showed me the new teeny tiny baby things that she has all ready for her baby, who is due any day.  My friend doesn’t know it, but she is glowing.  with anticipation.  with a lovely maternal aura.  She’s ready.

Well, as ready as she can be…

Who can be ready for the long nights without sleep?  Or a baby who spits up inordinate amounts?  Can one be prepared for the emotional responsibilities that grip the heart tightly like a vice?  How about the dirty diapers and mountains of laundry?  And this is just during the first week of motherhood…

Today when I was with her I considered warning her… but I decided against it…  She’ll know in good time.

And then I thought about offering her a bit of Scripture…  words that usually get me thru all of the disasters and mis-steps, the long winding roads and unexpected drama of motherhood.  But I thought better of it, because… well, because I struggled to believe them myself this week.

You know the words, the Scripture from Lamentations that remind us that His mercies are new every morning…   Every ounce of my being tried to take heart in those words each day last week.  As the sun came up, I told the Lord I was going to partake of His mercies.  And I did. He was faithful to supply.

But, the problem was with me last week…  Each day, as time wore on, I become weary in my calling.  And I did things like: I lost my temper, I threw my proper attitude out the window, I lost my temper again, I acted haughty and prideful, I lost my patience… you get the ugly, sinful picture, right?  And I abandoned all grace and mercy.  Instead, I went down the “I’m only human” route and by bedtime I was clinging to that same Scripture, hoping for a better start tomorrow.

This week, I realized something.  It was when I had just finished phonics with Isaac, was about to begin piano practice with Emily and was between one of Mackenzie’s “bappie withdrawal” episodes, all of which requires extra grace.  It was then I found myself tiptoe at the line- just even with my limit.

And I said, not really expecting an answer, “Why?  Why can’t I make it thru the whole day, limitless inside His grace?  ”  In my heart of hearts, I was giving up, making plans for a fresh tomorrow…

But, faithfully, He responded, “Because my mercies aren’t just for morning… they are for evening and mid-day- and every step of the way in between… You can have a fresh start whenever you need it, not just when the sun is coming up.”

It is true that morning is a great time to “begin again,” but because of His mercy, I don’t have to wait.  His grace rolls along side my every move, flexible and agile, just the way a mama needs to be – and He is able to weather every storm with me…   His mercy is perpetual, ongoing, always available.   I just have to take notice, and step into the flow.

Every letter of these words are true:

21 This I recall to my mind, Therefore I have hope.                                                                                                                                                                22 Through the Lord’s mercies we are not consumed, Because His compassions fail not.                                                                                          23 They are new every morning; Great is Your faithfulness.                                                                                                                                                  24 “The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, “Therefore I hope in Him!”

That’s what I wanted to say to my friend who is about to give birth for the first time:  ” His faithfulness is so GREAT, it has no ending, but always a new beginning.  And in this new calling of motherhood His mercy is exactly what you need for every moment of every day!  There is more hope in Him. always more.

amen. and amen.

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shut the door…

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It’s raining outside this evening.  I love a good thunderstorm in the spring.  For me, sleep comes much easier to the tune of raindrops drumming on the roof.  And I don’t mind a few rumbles and crackles of thunder and lightening.  It all brings a bit of peace.

Tonight as I’m sitting here enjoying the weather, the rain has reminded of a story.  Its a story I’ve been reading with Mackenzie.  At her request we’ve read it several times this week.  And I don’t mind it, really.  Its a Sunday School favorite that everyone knows from childhood: Noah and the Ark.

As I’ve read and re-read and re-read again the story with my baby girl something very specific has come to my attention that I never truly gave much thought to before.  Most folks know that in the story of Genesis 6 we meet Noah, the only man on earth left who loved God.  When God asked him to build this huge boat- the size of football fields – Noah did it according to specific instructions.   Here’s what I ‘ve pondered during our study:  surely, during all of that time while they were preparing for the flood, Noah had to have had questions.  Was he a logistics kind of guy at all?  Didn’t he wonder how it was all going to work out?  I mean, even if the boat was sea worthy, even if all the animals cooperated and got on board, even if it actually started raining…

In every description I’ve ever seen or heard of the ark, it depicts an enormous door.  I think I would have been wondering…. Who is going to shut that huge door behind us?

But, Genesis 7 :16 says this:

Then the LORD closed the door behind them.

Noah obeyed and God finished up the rest.  God did not call on Noah to do a job that He wasn’t prepared to help complete.

Those words have captured my thoughts, while I’m sitting here listening to the rain pitter patter.  Often I hear God calling, asking something in particular of me – and it seems gigantic- even insurmountable. So, instead of getting started in faithful obedience,  I ask Him questions like, “But, who’s going to shut that humongous door?”  Who is going to do the impossible part of that thing that I can’t do?   Who’s going to fill in the blanks when the answers are beyond my own imaginations?

And I want to know the ending before I get started on the beginning.

There are so many lessons to be learned from the story of  Noah and the flood.  But, tonight,  right now, what I needed is this:  Whatever it is God is calling me to do, He has the master plan.  I just have to do my part – I don’t have to know all of the details. There may be parts of the plan that seem absolutely, humanly impossible.  But it doesn’t matter.   He will take care of shutting the door.

and this evening that knowledge brings more peace than the sound of the falling rain.

green thumb envy...

flowerbeds and green thumbs…

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There is a new flower bed in my front yard. Thanks to my husband’s labor of love, and my hard work too, there are dahlia tubers planted in that bed. I now feel muscles I was not previously aware that I had.

I love fresh flowers. Last summer, every time we went to my in-laws’ home, there were gorgeous, healthy, fresh dahlias in vases. I gained significant respect for my father in law and his green thumb. I’ve wondered all winter, “Am I capable of growing my own dahlias – do I have a green thumb?” And now this week it was time. I had to decide : Plant now or wait another year for my own vases of fresh flowers.

My sweet husband, knowing my love for fresh flowers, used one of the mornings during his week of vacation to help me with the bed – I never, repeat never, could have done this by myself. The soil needed significant work, the weeds and grass had to be pulled. I was not strong enough to turn the ground alone- it was so hard and dry. Did I mention we did not use a tiller? (gardening lesson # 1… tillers are our friends.)

As I helped to excavate with my shovel and ho, preparing the ground, I was reminded of a parable in the Bible – the one about the farmer, planting the seeds. I couldn’t help but remember the story. The story describes different types of ground and compares the soil to people’s hearts. There is the hard heart, the shallow heart, the heart grown over with thorns and full of stones, and there is the heart that is freshly turned, ready to receive God’s word.

“A farmer went out to sow his seed. As he was scattering the seed, some fell along the path, and the birds came and ate it up. Some fell on rocky places, where it did not have much soil. It sprang up quickly, because the soil was shallow. But when the sun came up, the plants were scorched, and they withered because they had no root. Other seed fell among thorns, which grew up and choked the plants. Still other seed fell on good soil, where it produced a crop—a hundred, sixty or thirty times what was sown.”

Hearing this story as a child I just assumed that my heart was the tilled up one, open to God’s word. I never even considered that I might have one of the other kinds of hearts. But, as I was digging in the ground with my new gloves on, I realized the truth. At one time or another my heart has been hard or grown over with weeds, probably just as often as it has been soft like freshly tilled soil, ready for planting.

I know that even while the soil in my new flower bed is prepared well to grow dahlias now, it will not be enough to grow flowers in the coming years. The seasons will change and the weather will not have respect for my garden; the soil will go through hot and cold temperatures, rain and snow, possibly lack of rain – and the dirt as I know it now will cease to exist. It will become hard and dry. Next spring I will be required to work the ground and prepare once again, if I wish to grow anything.

So it is with my heart’s garden. The seasons of life bring trials, difficulties, changes and my heart can become stiff and hardened to the things of God. But He is a gentle gardener. He continues to work at growing the fruit of his spirit in my heart, pulling out thick patches of deep rooted sins, tilling up the soil of my heart until it is ready to receive His word, His guidance, His love.

As I watch my garden for little sprouts of green, hopeful for a few brightly blossoming dahlias, I am watching for signs of life in my heart, too. Winter seems to have passed. I believe he has planted seeds of love, joy, patience, kindness, maybe even some self-control. Perhaps this spring there will be a few buds that will bloom into beautiful fruit in my heart.

It remains to be seen if I have a green thumb. But, there is no question : our Heavenly Father who continues the gardening of my heart season after season has a supremely green thumb. Praise God that He is able to grow the most beautiful fruit of all!

md

(originally written april 12, 2010)

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carousel days

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We took our family to Coolidge Park on Saturday.  It was a perfect day for a walk and a ride on the carousel.  So, Michael stayed on the sidelines with the camera and I helped our three kiddos get on the ride.  Isaac picked a frog, Emily a giraffe and Mackenzie, she just wanted to sit on a bench beside me.

As the carousel lurched into motion, Mackenzie thought she might like to get off and started to hop down off the bench. But it was too late, there was no stopping the ride.  So I put my arm around her and pulled her close on the bench as we began to circle around and around.  Mackenzie repeated quietly to me several times, while patting my leg with her tiny little hand, “It will be alright, Mommy.  It will be done soon.”

There are plenty of times I feel like Emily and Isaac – I’m happy to be on the “horse” I’ve picked out and I’m enjoying the ride.  And there are others when I feel like Mackenzie.  It is all I can do to just look around and make sure someone’s arms are around me and repeat to myself, “It’s okay, this will be over soon.”

And the truth is, it is true.

For carousel kinds of days, Jesus made a beautiful promise in John 14 : 25-28:

25 “These things I have spoken to you while being present with you. 26 But the Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in My name, He will teach you all things, and bring to your remembrance all things that I said to you. 27 Peace I leave with you, My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.28 You have heard Me say to you, ‘I am going away and coming back to you.’ If you loved Me, you would rejoice because I said,[e] ‘I am going to the Father,’ for My Father is greater than I.

There is One who promised:  He will be there.  always.  He won’t ever let go.  And, it won’t be long before we will be with Him forever.  That’s a lot of really good news, packed into a few short verses.

I’m so thankful for a Heavenly Father who puts His arms around me and whispers these promises in my ear when I need them, especially on the days that I just don’t feel like being on the ride.

a bit of history · it's a runner's world... · who knows?

The Shackles

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(I’ve exchanged my shackles, for these running shoes…)

None of you (and I’m confident saying that) were there the first time I ran a kilometer.  1000 very long meters.  I know that none of  you were there because it was during my gym class in grade two.   The event is engraved onto my memory.

It wasn’t eventful because I finished first, or because it was an epic moment where I realized I was going to be a runner.  No.  I remember it because I hated it.  At the time, I had exercised induced asthma and couldn’t quite manage extensive cardiovascular activity.  As my class ran around the block, I tried – but, it was a struggle.  By the time I finished everyone else had already gone inside- well, except the P.E teacher who was waiting for me.

I’ve gone through fits and starts of attempting to be an athlete… volleyball in high school, I tried swimming in college.  But all in all, the task of doing much above vigorous walking has been difficult.   For quite some time I  carried an inhaler with me, and there was a point where I needed it daily.  As an adult, I’ve settled into a sedentary lifestyle and so, I haven’t used an inhaler for asthma recently. I’m not proud of the fact, its just the way it has been for me.  Like a big heavy set of ankle weights strapped on… that asthma diagnosis has held me hostage.  I was shackled.

Until recently.

A year ago I realized I wasn’t going to be able to lose anymore of the baby weight I had gained in my pregnancies without working out.  We have an elliptical in our family room, so I began exercising.  Initially my effort couldn’t really be described as anything other than delicate.  I didn’t want to push too hard for fear of the unknown. What would happen?  I’ve had enough asthmatic episodes to know I didn’t want to have one without meds on hand.

In January, I made the commitment to train and try to run in a 5K with a group of friends.  Several times I have wondered what in the world I was thinking.  But honestly I came to realize something Friday when I was running at the track.  A song came on in my earbuds.  If you didn’t listen to Christian contemporary music in the 1990’s, you’ve probably never heard the song by Mary-Mary called, “Shackles.”  One of the phrases says, “You took the shackles off my feet so I could dance…I’ve just gotta praise You, I’ve just gotta praise You!”  And at that moment, when I heard those words, everything within my frame of reference came into alignment- from my grade two running failure to the present.

The Heavenly Father was in the process of taking the shackles off my feet – and I realized:

I CAN RUN!

Now I know what you’re thinking…  Some people would not agree that I’ve been healed of asthma.  They would say that I’ve just outgrown it.  But do you know what I think?  I believe that the God of this Universe created me and this earthly body I’m wearing.  And do you know what? It is an amazing piece of work! There was a time I could not go any distance at all.  But today, for the first time I RAN.  I ran THREE MILES in thirty six minutes.  I give HIM the honor and the glory and the praise for  healing my asthma, so that I can run!  I just have to praise Him!

16 Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly in all wisdom, teaching and admonishing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with grace in your hearts to the Lord.17 And whatever you do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through Him.  Colossians 3:16-17

Thank you Heavenly Father, for being a God who answers prayers, who heals our bodies and makes us complete.    May I never take it for granted.  Let my life always give you the glory for everything I’m able to do.  amen.

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for your tastebuds’ pleasure…

melodyannday5 Comments

Just in case you have a little free time this afternoon, and you decide you need a little something sweet, and you can’t decide what to make, I thought I might post the recipe to  “Aunt Betsy’s Rocky Road Squares.”   Because these are exactly what you need for your sweet -tooth’s munchie habit today.  Listen, you can’t go wrong with marshmallows, chocolate and graham crackers…

Here’s the recipe in my dear Grandma B’s handwriting (Ann Brubacher, my grandma and Aunt Betsy’s sister…) I just love having this recipe written by hand, it makes it that much more special to me. and yes, I know I unfortunately got a tiny bit of melted butter on the paper; it was an accident.  I’ll type the recipe out in full below in case you can’t quite read the writing.

There is no way that you won’t love these!!!  I promise!

Okay, here’s the recipe for Rocky Road Squares (In case you didn’t know, if you’re Canadian, its a “square.”  If you’re American, its a “bar.”):

Ingredients

6oz chocolate chips, 1/2 cup margarine, 1 egg (preferably at room temp), 1 cup confectioner’s sugar, 2 cups mini marshmallows, graham crackers ( to line the bottom of the pan.

Instructions:

line your 9×9 pan with graham crackers.  melt chocolate chips and margarine in pan over medium heat.  remove from heat and add 1 egg to the chocolate mixture.  ( I usually temper the egg with a bit of the chocolate mixture, then vigorously whisk the egg into the chocolate)  next add the sugar.  wait for mixture to cool for a bit before adding the marshmallows. spread chocolate-marshmallow mixture over the graham crackers.  chill in the refrigerator til  firm, cut and serve.

I recommend enjoying these delightful treats with a tall glass of milk!   You can thank me later.

a bit of history · in my kitchen

rocky road

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I have memories of my Great Aunt Betsy, tucked away in my heart.  My sister and I spent a lot of time at her home during our grade school years.  Many overnights, and a lot of Sunday afternoons.  I loved spending time with her.  Her sweet and gentle spirit was constant;  she showed me Jesus, often when I needed it the most.

She also baked.  Whenever we stayed with her it seems she had these tiny chocolate chip cookies on hand and I ate exponential amounts of them or Rocky Road bars, while drinking several glasses of chocolate milk.  But the Rocky Road bars -those were my favorite.  I have the recipe (in my grandmother’s handwriting) and I’m considering making them this afternoon.

At any rate, I have these memories of chatting with Aunt Betsy at the kitchen table while enjoying our snack.  One conversation I remember in particular.  The circumstances, when I think of them now, make me giggle.  But they weren’t funny at the time.  My sister and I were required to share a double bed when we spent the night at her house.  And there was one night where my dear, lovely sister became very frustrated with me (something about crossing on to her side of the bed) and she pushed me right out of the bed.  with significant force.

That was on a Saturday night.  Sunday morning we went to church, and my forehead was adorned with this huge knot.  I was not thrilled at the time.  I remember that afternoon talking it over with my Aunt…  I’m pretty sure there were rocky road bars present… but, she encouraged me that I couldn’t stay mad at my sister.  I would have to forgive her.

What I wouldn’t give to have a chat and a treat with my Aunt Betsy right now.  this very minute.  I’m struggling.  I’d like to forgive, I really would.  In fact, it wasn’t long ago that I blogged about how easy it was to forgive someone else… and it was.  Typically I’m not one to hold a grudge.  I mean, I forgave Marilyn for pushing me out of bed.  But this time, its different- it seems so much harder.

This time it is personal.  I’m not just angry, although I am a tad-bit mad.  My feelings are hurt – my heart has been squeezed tightly and wrung right out.  I have no idea how to get back to a place of forgiveness…  how do I get there?  I’m not sure even Aunt Betsy could help…

But it is during this season of Lent, I’m reminded of Jesus. He forged the path of redemption and forgiveness himself, through the pain of being beaten and hung on a cross ’til death.  Truly, it was my sin, my offenses that put Him on the cross to die.  And yet, on the other side of His death, with His resurrection secured on the timeline of history, He offers forgiveness, so that I am forgiven.  so that I can forgive.

If He can look at me with eyes of compassion after all that I’ve done, how can I do any less for someone else?  Its a difficult road, a bit rocky with stones of anger and frustration, hurt and even injustice.  But, I don’t have to walk it alone…  He’s already been there, so that I can walk the road of forgiveness too.

In Colossians 2, Paul reminds me that Christ has accomplished the necessary work, forgiving us:

11 In Him you were also circumcised with the circumcision made without hands, by putting off the body of the sins[c] of the flesh, by the circumcision of Christ, 12 buried with Him in baptism, in which you also were raised with Him through faith in the working of God, who raised Him from the dead. 13 And you, being dead in your trespasses and the uncircumcision of your flesh, He has made alive together with Him, having forgiven you all trespasses, 14 having wiped out the handwriting of requirements that was against us, which was contrary to us. And He has taken it out of the way, having nailed it to the cross. 15 Having disarmed principalities and powers, He made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them in it.

I am so thankful for these words today.  It puts in perspective for me just how much I am able to forgive, because I truly am forgiven and free.

Thank you Heavenly Father. Thank you for your love that meets me in the middle of the afternoon, while I’m trying to survive this “rocky road” life.

Well, in honor of my Aunt Betsy and all of the wisdom she offered to me so long ago, I’m headed to the kitchen.  I’ve got some rocky road bars to make.

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the best cleanser

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Recently I received a lovely gift from a friend.  The gift bag had many lovely items in it, including some really fabulous lipgloss, some chocolates, TAZO tea bags and the best item: a bar of soap.  Seriously, I’m not crazy – it is a really great bar of soap.  Its creamy and lathers up with lots froth and bubbles.  And the best part, it has a flowery lavender scent that I am absolutely in love with.

Unfortunately I don’t even know what the brand is because I threw the wrapper away.  But I promise you, it really is the best bar of soap I’ve used in a long time.  There’s just something about starting out the day fresh…

I’ve gone thru quite a few phases when it comes to soaps and bath products. As a child, growing up – our house was a “Zest” house – that’s what was in the soap dish.  There was my Bath and Body Works craze…  brown sugar and vanilla or sun-ripened raspberry.   There was the expensive department store counter stage and Clinique products…  And since having children, the more simple, non-scented Aveeno toiletries from Target.  I had almost forgotten that there was such a thing as a bar of soap.

My behavior as a believer is not unlike my  my soap and cleanser phases.  I’ve tried many many different ways to scrub away at my own sin, wondering if there might be something better out there.  like good behavior;  maintaining my church attendance, doing the right “religious” thing…  keeping up the appearances that others expect.  There are times I spend so much effort on these good works, I forget what I really need.  But I’ve known from early on ; I remember hearing words quoted from Scripture on an old Children’s Bible Hour tape and they’ve been in my memory since.

Hear these words from Titus. They are good news for every soul.

Titus 3:4-6:

4 But when the kindness and the love of God our Savior toward man appeared, 5 not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according to His mercy He saved us, through the washing of regeneration and renewing of the Holy Spirit, 6 whom He poured out on us abundantly through Jesus Christ our Savior,  7 that having been justified by His grace we should become heirs according to the hope of eternal life.

His grace and mercy are the only things that save – His righteousness is the only way that my dirty, sinful heart can be scrubbed clean- washed and regenerated – for a fresh, new life in Christ.  I don’t have to keep trying to use those other “man-made cleaners” – only His love and righteousness will do.

Heavenly Father, Thank you for this amazing, beautiful reminder this morning.  My life is hopeless without your mercy and love.  My heart is alive today because of the regenerating work in my heart. And I am grateful for this refreshing. amen.