From This Point of View, It's Just Feet

One thing I notice perusing Instagram, is the frequent posts of photos looking down at one's feet. There is something intriguing in this perspective of a person's feet planted in the moment. It gives opportunity to imagine the person's journey: where they're going and where they've been. But it is a small window with an extremely limited view. It reminds me of The Foot Book, by Dr. Seuss; “Feet. Feet. Feet. Oh, how many feet you meet!” Photographing one's feet is a fun way to slow down and be mindful of the moment; and when I am looking down I see a lot of feet. But on the journey of reconciliation, Christ calls us to see the end product – transformation of a larvae into a butterfly – a true metamorphosis, not just feet.

I have seen a lot of feet. When I fixate on one part of myself or one area of life with an attitude of discontent or disgust, it is like taking a beautiful walk and looking only at my feet. We do it all the time. We compare ourselves using unrealistic standards and pick ourselves and others apart without looking up to see where we are going. When we chose to follow Jesus we were reconciled to God the Father instantly; yet we began an ongoing journey of reconciliation and repair with ourselves and others.

In Webster's dictionary I found the following definitions of reconcile:

• to restore to friendship or harmony b: Settle, Resolve (~differences)
• to make consistent or congruous (~an ideal with reality)
• to check against another for accuracy

And of repair:

• to restore by replacing a part or putting together what is torn or broken b: to restore to a sound or healthy state: RENEW

I am especially drawn to third definition of reconcile: to check against another for accuracy. The whole journey of reconciliation is based on looking to Him for truth (accuracy). We reconcile our living when we sift it through the truth of His Word and, in times of quiet, listening to the Father's heart. I love knowing I do not have to create a perfect template for myself. Oh how often I have tried. You too? It is like trying to rip apart a cocoon to release a butterfly only to discover a butterfly's personal struggle is its strength. We look around and pick and choose from broken resources to design our own template only to find our unique journey is the one He uses to restore us into His likeness. What is it that keeps us returning to the restricted view instead of God's redemptive plan?

There could be a number of reasons we spend more time looking down, but I think most reasons can fit into a package labeled brokenness and distrust. The wounds we've taken in human relationships have an impact on how we approach God. Our perspective of how others have treated us can damage our self-acceptance and our ability to accept God's unconditional love and grace. Until we invest in healing and repair and gaining a healthier perspective we will struggle not to fixate on our flaws and loneliness.

We are being restored to His original design and intent. So if all I am doing is deciding about self, life and God by looking down at my feet or my flaws, I am missing His eternal perspective. I can't see all He is doing but I can certainly look up, look around and see a wonderful work in progress. Too hard to think of yourself as a wonderful work? Psalm 139 tells us we are “fearfully and wonderfully made.” When I allow Him to correct my view of Him and of myself I have “checked against another for accuracy”, for the truth. Look up and see what the Lord wants to do in your life. Feet are important for the journey, but they are not the journey. 

 

This Is What I Remember . . .

It was the summer of 1969. It was the summer of Woodstock and the beginning of the end of the Vietnam war. On July 8, just as the first round of troops were being withdrawn from Vietnam, my sister was born. My brother and I hovered around my grandma, as she talked on the phone, waiting to hear if it was a boy or girl. And twelve days later Neil Armstrong, an Ohioan like myself, spoke the words “That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind” as the world watched the historical moment of the first man to on the moon from their living rooms.

And that same summer on the outer fringes of Mechanicsburg, in a little brick church on Rose Dale Road, I met Jesus. Or rather He came and found me. This is what I remember almost every time I take communion. I remember that 9-year-old girl with freckles who felt so alone and misunderstood, standing among Vacation Bible School attendees, shaken by the truth of His love for me. I knew I had to go forward. It was one of those dividing moments; it was the summer of the most distinct before and after moment in my life.

When the pastor says to take a moment and listen just before we drink the cup and eat the bread, with tears in my eyes, I remember this life changing moment in 1969 when I said, “Yes” to Jesus. My heart overflows with gratitude at the realization that in this great, big world full of people, Jesus made His way into that little country church to whisper in my ear an invitation I couldn't refuse. Communion takes me back to that sweet moment; and I am still amazed He remembered me and found me. Even though He has the whole universe to manage, He came to personally invite me to follow Him into light and life and truth. This is what I remember. I am humbled as I remember, and I am eternally grateful!

There are moments which
Mark your life.
Moments that you realize
Nothing will ever be the same.
And time is divided into
Two Parts:
Before this and
After this.
When a moment comes,
You either do the right thing
Or the wrong thing.
--Joshua Naylor
 

An Obsession With Books

Recently I was visiting my friend, Violet, and we were talking about books. Violet is in her 90s and lives with her daughter and family; she has very few personal belongings these days. Violet's criteria for keeping a book: it had to be worth rereading, and she remembers she once owned over 300 books. It can take a lot of reading to find over 300 books worth rereading; I discovered a few in 2015. We'll come back to my top three reread worthy books of 2015 in just a bit.

You may wonder what criteria determines when a book gets the distinct privilege of being placed in the reread pile. I have no official criteria. A book has to challenge me in some way and to reread it would help me more fully absorb the truths or lessons I long to take root in me, or it must be a beautifully woven story by a masterful wordsmith. These are the primary reasons a book may be exalted to a special shelf or stack in wait of another go around. I love words and especially well crafted phrases I can taste, touch, smell, hear and see. Reading has been a lifelong obsession for me.

As a little girl I memorized the rhymes my mother read to me; with book in hand I pretended to read to others all the while quoting from memory. Once I mastered reading I would disappear for hours, held captive by words between the cover of any book I could get my hands on. We didn't have many books in our home, so I begged to order books when money was available and borrowed from anyone willing to share.

I am not sure how I developed such a voracious appetite for reading, but no one else in my family seemed to have the same desperate need for another book and time alone to read it. Many evenings my dad would call for me to come out of my room and spend time with the family; being with the family at our house meant watching TV. For over 100 years several inventors worked on developing the technology to give us a talking box with motion pictures. It is important to note here the television came to America in the 40s, during my parent's childhoods; you were practically a celebrity if your family was the first on your street to get one. And in the 1960s, my childhood years, color television sets became available for purchase. By 1966 all of prime-time television was in color increasing the thrill of watching anything. The idea of being able watch current events live, like the first man on the moon, and movies in the privacy of your home had American families mesmerized.

I was usually more interested in living inside my own imagination, even if guided by another's story, than watching sitcoms and movies. Conflicted, I would join the family with my book in hand. If I was caught up in a better story than the one playing on television, I continued reading while sitting by this noisy box amidst the family, training myself to tune out the noise with singular focus. My skill for tuning out all sound and being fully taken in by a good book became so fine tuned my mom would have to raise her voice to jerk me from out under the cover of a book into the stark reality of chores and crazy family business. A few of my favorite childhood books to read and reread were Pipi Longstocking, Ellen Tebbits, Black Beauty, Little House on the Prairie and Little Women. Some of my childhood favorites, I have read and reread as a grownup: Anne of Green Gables, The Hobbit, The Chronicles of Narnia and Jane Eyre. And that's just the fiction.

Over the years I've reread many nonfiction books, as well as skimming all I underlined, culling rich morsels to nourish to my soul. So no one misunderstands, I am not leaving out the Bible. Those who know me well know it is my life book. I find reading good writing transforming; these days I read far more nonfiction than fiction. On my list of of books read in 2015, here are three I plan on reading again:

 

Dancing on the Head of a Pen, Robert Benson

A Mind for God, Jame Emery White

The Gift of Being Yourself, David G. Benner

 

As I look over the list of books I read in 2015 there are actually more than three I would like to reread, but these I am certain to read again. I wrote a post of the impact of Benson's book, Dancing on the Head of a Pen early last year. http://juliejjoiner.blogspot.com/2015/01/thebenson-influence-asi-set-up-to-begin.html And of course there is a stack of new books to be read with a goal to read even more books than last year. Though reading well is more important than the number of books read; I like to challenge myself to make reading and learning a priority. But those who know me well know I can't help myself; I have to read and learn.

I would love to hear about your top three favorite books read in 2015. What are your favorite types of books to read?

I love this excerpt from The Dean's Watch by Elizabeth Goudge, a British novelist born in 1900. It is about a boy who is put in an orphanage and finds it a miserable place. Health returned to the boy as he immersed himself in reading.

“In the schoolroom there was a shelf containing a few tattered books, given by some kindly citizen, and the boys were allowed to read them on Saturday nights. Few made use of the privilege, for they couldn't read well enough, but Job read them all. . . . All the books had pictures in them. The books were like rooms in a great house and the pictures were lamps lit in the rooms to show them to him. As he read, his dreams slowly changed. The nightmares . . . gradually gave way to dreams of forests full of great trees, where fabulous beasts galloped down the cool green aisles, meadows full of flowers and celestial mountains musical with streams.”

Happy reading!

A Fresh Start in Contentment

Clean, fresh, crackly white – like the first sheet of paper in a brand new journal. This is how I feel about the new year. I love the way starting afresh feels, like a perfectly tailored dress. But January quickly becomes messy and scribbled all over and the only way I can claim the freshness is to be still, to listen and pray, journal and seek God's direction for 2016. If I focus on all the busyness begging to claim the squares on the calendar and robbing me of open space and breathing room, I soon begin to lose the joy and hope of what God wants to do. And my spirit soon feels deflated and worn like the Christmas inflatables up and down our street that just weeks ago seemed all bright and cheery, having brought smiles to faces of those passing by. Now their appearance is glum and messy.

And here it is only 9 days into the new year and the clean pages on the calendar have been snagged from behind and taken captive by events unexpected. “This is life,” I tell myself. But I whine, “Can't I just pull away for a day's worth of peace and quiet to get on solid ground before the tumult begins?” I have stolen moments and pulled away to seek direction, wisdom and strength. The hurts of others struggling press in on me and I long to make it all better for them, but I am just little ol' me and I am not God. Discovering the places He invites me to join Him is the purpose of eeking out quiet space and listening.

My reaction to the unexpected, to needs and activities taking away my days before I have had time to think and plan reminds me of the two choices Ann Voskamp writes about: “complain or communion.” This is the year I am opening myself to increased contentment. “Complain or communion” is simple, but a challenging reminder of the choices I have when things aren't going the way I want them to go. Three C's.

Communion – Complaining = contentment

or

Contentment – complaining = communion

Either way you figure it, complaining and discontent get in the way of communion with the Father. And it doesn't attract healthy fellowship in the Body either. I cringe when I think of being short of contentment; it is a little embarrassing considering how great God is and how wonderfully He cares for me. It is a reminder the big picture isn't about me, I am just blessed to be a part of the story.

Digging about for words on contentment I came across this footnote by Charles Stanley, “We find our greatest source of contentment, of course, is a delightful relationship with Jesus Christ.” The seeds of contentment grow when rooted in an intimacy focused sharply on Jesus. Writing about Jesus feeding the 5,000 with a boy's lunch of 5 loaves and 2 fish, Jennifer Kennedy Dean added an exclamation point to my need for contentment with this line:

“It's not what you have, it's who I AM that defines the situation.”

My biggest area of discontent is lack of time to do things important to me. When I read Jennifer's words on lack versus Jesus, it occurred to me that He has given me all the time I need. He multiplies our little to so much more. Reinforcement from Savannah at ramblingsmom.com, “Contentment isn't about what we have. It's a matter of the heart being; satisfied with what God has allowed for us in our lives.”

“Rejoice always; pray without ceasing; in everything give thanks; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus” (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 NASB). It all circles back to gratitude and trust. If I trust in Him that all things are working together for good (Romans 8:28) then I can be grateful, and content in all circumstances. Oh, for sure I know this is a heart-change requiring the transforming power of His Spirit.

Hope, Peace & Joy

The week before last I missed peace. I mean how can you write about peace when thoughts jab about inside poking holes and the peace keeps leaking out everywhere? I really don't remember when the holes were repaired with promise and hope, but they were and a peace washed over me. And now for joy. Joy seems to be a stabilizer in the midst of difficult days; it rounds up promises to hold onto when we think life just might be giving us too much to handle. There were a couple of days last week when joy ran dry. I was tired, “all given out” and couldn't find a thread to grab hold of to untangle my emotional mess and find joy.

Proverbs 12:20 tells us there is “joy for those who promote peace.” How can I promote peace when it drains out of me like flour through a sifter? When I came across this verse in Proverbs I was encouraged by the strong link between joy and peace. This is no paper chain counting days in hopes of an event or waiting in survival to get past something. Romans 15:13 (NASB) supports the strong link of peace to joy and more. “Now may the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you will abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” It is through the power of His Spirit I can promote peace. What will this look like today? In my home? With my clients? In my family? In my heart?

When “the God of hope fills you with all peace and joy” then we “abound in hope.” How can this be? Again, through the power of the Holy Spirit I can experience peace and joy no matter what this day looks like on the outside. Now while I am busy wrapping up stuff to give to people who have no need for more stuff, here are three incredible, necessary gifts I struggle to wrap my mind around. Aren't these the gifts we all long for and need: Hope, Peace and Joy? And yet He graciously holds out His hand and says, “Take this. I am filling you with peace and joy, therefore you will abound in hope.” He gives. Am I receiving?

Now again I am looking in Proverbs and in Romans how joy comes after peace. Maybe there is no real correlation, but in my life I can see how I miss the joy if I am not first peaceful. Peace comes when we trust Him and let Him take control. He gives peace when we give it all to Him and stop trying to control things. Then I am free to embrace joy.

Several years ago in in the midst of heart wrenching pain my mother reminded me over and over, “Don't let this steal your joy.” I was arm wrestling with the enemy and he was winning until I was reminded I get to keep joy. Why? Joy is a gift. But first I had to give up the fight, the anger and the desire to make things fair. Then I rested in the truth that joy isn't dependent on fair, or on perfect or on me; joy is a gift from the Father and comes to me when I believe in Him and trust Him. “Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with inexpressible and glorious joy . . .” (1 Peter 1:8, NASB)

Hebrews 12:2 puts it this way, “Fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.” (NASB)

Charles Stanley writes in response to this verse: “Jesus endured the pain, scorn, sorrow, rejection, and betrayal of the Cross for the joy set before Him. . . . What was this overcoming joy? Us. Jesus looked forward to fulfilling the purpose for which He came, which was to restore our relationship with Himself.”

I am stunned! He experienced joy in the suffering for a bunch of ungrateful sinners. How can this be? If Jesus can experience joy in paying the excruciating cost for our sins, then He can fill me with joy amidst the unfair frustrations of my little life. And joy is linked to peace and hope. “Therefore, having been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom also we have obtained our introduction by faith into this grace in which we stand; and we exult in hope of the glory of God. And not only this, but we exult in our tribulation . . .” (Romans 5:1-3a, NASB). James tell us: “Consider it all joy, my brethren, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance.” (James 1:2-3, NASB) No, joy is not a paper chain link but an eternally strong link to the hope and faith we have in God the Father, His perfect eternal plan and His Son Jesus.

The Living Hope

In her book The Circle of Seasons: Meeting God in the Church Year, Kimberlee Conway Ireton writes this about Advent:

“In Hebrew, the word for wait is also the word for hope. (Thus translators can render 'Wait for the Lord' as 'Hope in the Lord' with equal accuracy.) The linguistic equation of wait with hope means that, for Jesus, immersed as he was in the language of the Hebrew Bible, there is no conceptual differentiation between waiting and hoping. They are one and the same activity. This melding is especially apropos during Advent, when we wait in hopeful expectation for the return of Christ.”

One of my favorite hope-filled verses follows Paul's list of produce: suffering produces perseverance, then perseverance produces character and character hope. Paul bookends suffering and its produce with hope. “And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God.” (Romans 5:2b, NIV) “And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us.” (Romans 5:5, NIV)

I love these words: “And hope does not disappoint us.” I wrap my heart around them and squeeze so tightly hope goes flying everywhere. At least I want to be that person who believes so strongly in this unremitting hope it bursts forth from me and rains all over everyone like confetti at a parade. My hope is increased the more time I spend with the Father and in His Word; and the more my hope increases, the greater the desire grows to helps others look up and believe in the “hope [that] does not disappoint us.”

How can such a hope exist in a day and age when we have no idea when or where the next terrorist attack will be? How can it be that hope will not disappoint us when all over the news there is nothing but suffering, tragedy and narcissism? Daily trust is being undermined by leaders of countries and corporations. I know people who marinate in the media's dark and slanted version of what is going on in the world, and it scares them. Lots of frightening things are happening, but “hope does not disappoint us” because, “In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead . . .” (1 Peter 1:3b, NIV)

Morris A. Weigelt & E. Dee Freeborn writers of Living The Lord's Prayer put it this way:

“Jesus taught us that Kingdom people are not destroyed by the terrors of the end time. These will not control the person who prays for the Kingdom. The new long-range perspective enables us to deal with the chaos without being overwhelmed. . . . People who pray with the Kingdom in view know that evil does not have the last word – and that knowledge profoundly shapes their lives. Praying for the breakthrough of God's kingdom frees us from the fatalism that sucks the hope and life out of us. We recognize that God can use life's crushing experiences to shape us into redemptive vessels He can use. We know beyond a shadow of doubt that God is in charge.”

Why? Because we have a “living hope through the resurrection of Jesus.” Living! This hope is active and alive. In the midst of a world full of dark deeds, deeds darker than some of us care to ever know or imagine, we have a living hope. And in this broken, sinful world followers of Jesus have every reason to live suspended in a place of hopeful waiting, suspended above despair – waiting for the return of Jesus. I want to believe in the living hope so completely I can rise above the despair of this world's tragedy. I do not want to look away or be void of compassion, but to be able to know and help others see that this is not the end of the story. We will not be disappointed, this story has the best sort of ending ever. This is our eternal hope.

P.S. My husband took the photo of the yellow gladiolas; he says yellow is the color of hope.

Rushed and Resisting

Thanksgiving, my favorite holiday has come and gone already. We had a wonderful Thanksgiving with my girls and Isaac, Emile's boyfriend. Everyone contributed a dish or two. My how things have changed! There were games and Christmas movies stacked on the coffee table in case there was any interest, but like grown-ups often do, we sat around the table and talked all evening – serious, challenging conversations seasoned with laughter. And now there is nothing to keep us from sliding right smack into Christmas.

I love Christmas, but I dislike how in so many ways it encroaches upon the other holidays. Our way of ushering in Christmas is to crowd out autumn, this brief and glorious season. Before children have donned their Halloween costumes, autumn decorations are on clearance and sharing the isle with Christmas. Thanksgiving is insignificant in the world of commerce, but it is my favorite holiday for that very reason. There is no gift buying expectations; Thanksgiving is a tribute to food and good old fashioned fellowship. It is meant to be a thankful holiday – full of thanks for blessings, grace, overcoming and surviving the odds.

I have such great memories of celebrating Thanksgiving in Ohio when I was a child. We all got together at some relative's house and ate and visited all day. The men watched football and talked of farming and weather (another favorite topic of mine). I loved sampling foods brought by my aunts, cousins and grandma. There isn't a sale worthy enough to leave behind such a glorious feast with family. I don't appreciate being rushed into the next holiday.

Being present and not pressing forward is a challenge even for me. The first Christmas card arrived in the mail on November 17 from a good planner. And now I am thinking about when we should get the tree. We've started Christmas shopping. I am so conflicted. Our whole world is conflicted. As a counselor I often bump into articles about being present, living in the moment with awareness and gratitude. But all around me there is pushing and shoving to some “significant” place we never reach.

Today I want to enjoy this day. I want to be attentive to the people I am with in the moment. I am not too sure how well I will do holding my own against the powerful undertow of commerce, but it is my goal. I am no Ebeneezer Scrooge, but I dislike being rushed!

I am hoping you and I can find a way to enjoy the moments presented today. As we plan and shop, may we be present to the people around us, even the cashier. May we find ourselves longing to give well wishes and blessings more so. People are in greater need of hope than anything else. I for one want to take time to sprinkle about more hope and less money. I want to give those around me a reason to smile and not so much another perishable item. I am no Ebeneezer Scrooge, but I want to give more than the same store-bought gift given to hundreds, thousands or millions of others.

Here's to making meaningful moments all year long and not letting them get lost during Christmas. How are you keeping your head and heart above the powerful current to “buy” Christmas? How do you experience meaningful moments in the midst of the holidays?

Tiny and Safe or Uncontainable?

We don't have cable; we don't watch a lot of television. But when we stay in a hotel or condo, like we were blessed to do so recently, we watch HGTV and cooking channels. Our most recent mini vacation found us captured by a show about tiny houses. I am both drawn to and repelled by the idea of living in a tiny house. After watching a few episodes of people deciding between tiny, tinier or tiniest, I turned to my husband and asked if he could live in a tiny house.

He said yes. Now if we ever truly considered a tinier house than the small house we live in, my books would be right up near the top of the list of the hardest possessions to let go. Tiny houses don't have room for books. My husband says I would have to go to the library, which I do. He doesn't understand; a writer needs her books. I have lived in my books, studied them and marked them just for me. I return to them for encouragement, comfort and to know I am not alone. It would be a great test for me to leave behind my books. Just writing that sentence makes me want to cry, imagining the grief I would experience saying goodbye to these dear friends.

Granted, my attachment to books may be a bit over the top, but we all have something we would find terribly difficult to leave behind. If your house went up in flames, I am sure most of you have considered what you would want to save most of all, after saving your family of course. Besides people and pets, what would you feel lost without? It may seem silly to ponder, but it does challenge one to consider the things we have become attached to in this life.

Considering what would be hard to give up in a downsize or what I would be desperate to save from a fire, makes me wonder what I hold too tightly limiting what God wants to do in and through me. You see when people are getting rid of things and living in tiny houses they want to minimize the time given to maintenance and to be debt free. This is a commendable motive for sacrifice. Whereas leaving behind everything to follow Jesus costs everything; we are forever in debt to Him. And in this case it is a glorious thing. Letting go of the value we place on ourselves and valuing Him above all increases our lives in ways we cannot imagine. What a contrast to how we live in this world!

I appreciate Eugene Peterson's paraphrase of Romans 5:1-5:

“By entering through faith into what God has always wanted to do for us—set us right with him, make us fit for him—we have it all together with God because of our Master Jesus. And that’s not all: We throw open our doors to God and discover at the same moment that he has already thrown open his door to us. We find ourselves standing where we always hoped we might stand—out in the wide open spaces of God’s grace and glory, standing tall and shouting our praise.
There’s more to come: We continue to shout our praise even when we’re hemmed in with troubles, because we know how troubles can develop passionate patience in us, and how that patience in turn forges the tempered steel of virtue, keeping us alert for whatever God will do next. In alert expectancy such as this, we’re never left feeling shortchanged. Quite the contrary—we can’t round up enough containers to hold everything God generously pours into our lives through the Holy Spirit!” (TM)

This new trend of downsizing and squeezing into a tiny, affordable, mobile house is quite the opposite of giving it all up and moving into the grandest space of all: the heart of the Creator of the universe and His perfect will. Do you ever find yourself downsizing God's expectations and desires for you? Do you ever customize your faith to fit in with the life you want to live? I have. I have to ask myself: Am I downsizing and living little as a follower of Jesus because I want to customize what this faith journey should look like? Am I making sure it fits my needs and squeezing myself into a faith too small to amount to anything? I guess I have to challenge myself here because I often want the cozy, comfortable, take it where I want to go, designed by Julie way. Don't you? Sometimes I want God to make this serving Him thing painless and customized to my liking.

There are also times when I live a tiny house walk by trying to squeeze into “Christian” trends or emulating others' heroics. God's grand design for another life becomes a tiny version of the life He has for me. Oh, but He has customized His call and He has given you and me everything we need to follow Him without deviating. And when you and I live the life He has for each of us, the immensely important little we leave behind will be like dust in the wind (even the books) compared to “the more than we can contain” gift He promises in His Word: His Spirit poured into us and overflowing.

Busy Presence

It is a gray November day, and it rained last night. I wonder what happened to October; it seems a blur. I try to remember October. Women's Bible study ended, but made its mark on how I pray. October held meaningful visits with daughters and coffee with friends. All in one day we moved a friend in the morning and sat with Jim's mom and dad in the emergency room that evening. We have checked, via calls and text, on folks who fill our hearts with concern. We've been doing home projects; putting in new flooring opened up an array of other projects. At night we crash into bed and wonder what happened to all the hours in our day, a day scarfed up and swallowed whole with little awareness of all the delicious moments. Does this describe a time in your life, or most of your days? In the midst of the blur I was spinning a cozy web about our home, creating inviting corners for rest and renewal. Scattering bits of autumn into nooks and crannies was therapy for me. Have I told you, I love autumn?

One day in October I wrote these words:

An Adirondack chair is snuggled up next to the pedestal flower pot crowned with a bumpy, bright orange pumpkin on our little porch. The sky is gray and a cool breeze blows through the trees while the sparrows cheep noisily. Then all at once they go silent for a few seconds leaving me to wonder if there is something they know that I do not. I sit, listening. I am tired, dirty and unmotivated. The morning was spent creating an invitation to rest on the porch and planting succulents. My mind is nearly as gray as the sky. The accomplishments should please me, but the tired, foggy thinking wins out.

The cool air helps me to press on with the writing. All I have to do is propel thoughts through my sluggish brain and type when in actuality it is a perfect day for napping or reading. My mind seems to be stuck these days thinking a lot about ways to escape the disciplines of daily life while all the while pushing myself to do them. Ever go through such a time? It is as if I am burning rubbing, moving and resisting all at the same time. Deciding what to make for dinner or wear to church seem like big chores. Retreat time!

Some time ago I decided one Friday a month I would declare a personal retreat day. It would include doing any creative activity I wanted, reading, resting and no cooking. It would be a day for disappearing into a place of renewal where no one would find me. Not totally true. My husband would be nearby. But I would sort of wrap my time in a bubble and take a break from all I do and restore my enthusiasm for serving. I haven't scheduled one yet, but it seems the time has come.

I did make time for a retreat day during the October blur. It wasn't, perfect, but it was a start. I worked on a folded collage repesenting areas of my life in which I want to grow. It was rewarding, restful and satisfying. There was time for reading as well as a nap. If I had prepared a little bit I would not have had to cook, but still the day restored a calm within me and renewed joy.

No matter how full the days and how fast they fly, I do not want to miss the treasures big and small we are to delight in through God-given senses. I want to be more present and grateful for the ways He ministers to me. One day when I took a few minutes to pay attention I noticed:

• how the sunlight shined on the plants by the window and skipped over to brush across the corner of our bed
• the worn, brushed softness of the flannel robe wrapped warm about me on a glorious chilly morning
• over the top of all the morning sounds of our neighborhood I still heard the birds chirping wildly about their business
• the almost minty scent of an eraser I use to refine my attempts at drawing
• the light scent of coffee diluted by creamer
• the sweet, nutty flavor of nutmeg I added to the coffee grounds

What are some ways you slow down and really notice the people around you; the room you in which you sit; the way nature responds to the seasons and weather; to all you can taste, touch, smell, see and hear? I am highly sensitive to my environment. At times the negative things wear on me without my noticing. When I pay attention to those things, I can make adjustments.

We Christians get so busy doing things we feel we should do and we have no time for beauty: creating or appreciating beauty. I believe it is part of being present to His presence. Years ago I read a book by Edith Schaeffer called The Hidden Art of Homemaking. She was a mentor and teacher I never met, but loved and appreciated. She inspired me to think about the environment I create.

In her own words:

“It is true that all men are created in the image of God, but Christians are supposed to be conscious of that fact, and being conscious of it should recognize the importance of living artistically, aesthetically, and creatively, as creative creatures of the Creator. If we have been created in the image of an Artist, then we should look for expressions of artistry, and be sensitive to beauty, responsive to what has been created for us” (p. 32).”
― Edith Schaeffer, The Hidden Art of Homemaking

When life gets crazy I feel I have no time for dipping into something creative or drinking in some refreshing beauty, but this would be the time I most need to create and admire His creation. The fog lifts, the blur clears, my body relaxes and joy returns when I have spent time responding to the image stamped upon my soul, the image of the Creator, Imago Dei. I understand the challenges; I face them daily, but I know without some time soaked in beauty we find ourselves living mechanical lives and feeling disconnected from ourselves and our Savior. Those you serve will be grateful for when you've been softened by time spent being present. You are more apt to see them through the eyes of their Creator.

It rained off and on all night, and now the sky glows bright blue with puffy, gray clouds float about casting shadows making it seem as if the light is playing hide and seek. I've a to-do list to write, but first I want to pay attention.

Autumn Glory or Gloom?

Five years ago today my brother flew into Kansas City to drive my moving truck with me and all my stuff in it to the Southwest. It was my desire to live closer to family and to leave behind bitterly cold, gray winters. I haven't missed the winters at all, but I have missed my autumn loving friends (the other friends too) and autumn. I had been living in my new hometown for about a month when a box arrived in the mail. My thoughtful friends and coworkers (sorry I do not remember all who were involved): Kimberly, Melissa, Danielle, and Virginia sent me a box full of autumn leaves. Among the leaves they included a handmade card by Virginia, a Starbucks gift card and a bag of orange and purple Skittles, handpicked especially for me. It was such a lovely treat!

Having spent most of my life in the Midwest, I get an incredible yearning for autumn every year; it has always been my favorite season. There are those who find autumn depressing as summer's beauty tarnishes, turning brittle and letting go of its hold on life. From his book, Let Your Life Speak, Parker Palmer wrestles past his own dark thoughts of autumn.

“In my own experience of autumn, I am rarely aware that seeds are being planted. . . . But as I explore autumn's paradox of dying and seeding, I feel the power of metaphor. In the autumnal events of my own life experience, I am easily fixated on surface appearances—on the decline of meaning, the decay of relationships, the death of a work. And yet if I look more deeply, I may see the myriad possibilities being planted to bear fruit in some season yet to come. . . . This hopeful notion that living is hidden within dying is surely enhanced by the visual glories of autumn. . . . Autumn constantly reminds me that my daily dyings are necessary precursors to new life.”

How does the letting go, the “daily dyings” of your life effect you? Jesus taught in order to have life, we must lose our lives. It is a beautiful mess this dying, letting go and losing the self in order to have life and be whole. Not so unlike autumn. The leaves glow in glorious red, orange and yellow. Sometime after the color begins to fade and the leaves start to get crackly, a big, blustery wind tears the last of them from the branches leaving the trees standing stark naked against the gray sky. The leaves eventually turn into compost for the soil making it rich and healthy, all the while seeds fall from dead blossoms to reseed and multiply in preparation for glorious new life to burst forth come spring. Can the letting go in our lives create a rich purpose and beauty? I think so.

There are times in our lives when the letting go, the dying to something in our lives, plunges us into a dark place for awhile. Have you been there? I have. I am amazed when I look back and remember some of the darkest seasons of change for me, at the treasures buried among the decay and hurt. Those surprising nuggets show their true colors on the bright side of grieving. Those were times God used to release me to become more truly who I am, freeing me from fears and dysfunctional thinking and doing, and from myself. I am transformed and made new. It is hard to admit, but in the dying, life is released. Death is not all doom and gloom, autumn is one proof of it.

Here are some of the highlights of my childhood autumn days:

• After a storm shaking branches from the trees, grandma would bribe us to help clean up the wooded pasture with a promised bonfire. We stacked all the branches against a large tree stump that stood in a small clearing. Later we invited neighborhood friends and cousins to roast hot dogs and marshmallows. All provided by grandma. It was such fun.
• Burning leaves. Oh what a haunting smell.
• Trick or treat in the small village nearby. Everyone knew us and we knew them. Mable made popcorn balls and always saved one for my mom.
• Homecoming, football and the school bonfire.
• Going back to school. I loved it!
• Burning candles and the first fire in the fireplace.
• Walking in the woods and the crunching of leaves beneath my feet.
• The cool crisp air carrying with it the scent of autumn. Can't explain it and no candle scent is a true copy.