While selecting an image for this morning’s post, I had an epiphany, of sorts…
Sometimes, we get stuck in a miracle rut! You know, thinking of miracles as a singular earth shattering occurrence that all can be amazed at, in only an instant!
One might think that the miracle for this little girl, occurred over 40 years ago, upon a darkened highway, but you’d be wrong…
…she was!
God, in only his wisdom, is now revealing the true miracle of that lost child, within the woman you see before you…
She could be a stranger, or perhaps not… it might be you, a family member or friend… anyone really!
God’s held onto my stubborn heart down many long highways,
pursued this wanderer through the wastelands of her own making,
removing detours, repairing breakdowns and healing wounds I thought would be my undoing…
and He loves me, unconditionally!
Just believe!
His miracles will reveal themselves upon the horizon of each new morning, if we will do this one simple thing… believe!
Epiphany = Each and every human soul’s miracles have been in the journey this whole time!!!
Will fulfill his promise to us, in us, and for us…
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11 NIV
I had such lofty thoughts and snappy come-backs for this mornings postings… until 2 a.m. rolled around, and what felt like every stupid childhood adventure injury began to ache, waking me from my dreamy slumber.
I’ve been up ever since…
While I may be all bleary eyed and a bit loopy, in the end it was worth it!
Wanna know why? I wish to pretend that you did, indeed, just ask me that question, so I can keep talking… or typing, if we’re to be literal about it.
Anyway, I’m glad I wasn’t able to go back to sleep, because it gave me a chance to spend time with my husband, even if it was just watching dumb things on the television. Lately, he’s either been asleep when I’m awake, or over at the college in one of the computer labs. He does his study work in the middle of the night, while I sleep.
The man burns his candles at both ends these days, what with trying to gain a degree, while simultaneously attempting to handle the overwhelming number of things that go with being homeless with a wife who can’t work… no fun.
Yet, he gets up and does what needs doing each and every morning, without a word of judgement, or complaint. He has always been a quiet man, stoic and reserved… to some he might even be seen as hardened. Behind the wall, however, is a treasure trove of love, tenderness and such generosity of heart! Once you know it’s there, you cannot help but to adore the man. Don’t get me wrong, he can most certainly drive me to distraction… but for the love of Pete (whoever that is), I simply can’t stay mad at him!
I know this post has little to do with anything of value, but what could any of us expect? I feel rather accomplished to have even gotten this far, to be honest. I will end this mushy, sappy, sleepy mumblefest that I got going on here, by saying that I am very grateful for the gift of my husband’s love.
I haven’t even looked at the daily prompt yet, so be wary, my friends… lol!
As Forrest Gump says (sorta), Today’s prompt answer will be like a box of chocolates, who knows what you’re gonna get!
It just took a good many years of her life, in order to see it!
With each wave of every storm,
He broke through her walls,
He refused to let her drown beneath the waters,
He left the 99 to save the one that was so very lost,
He held her as she raged, loved her when she hated herself, and saw her when she no longer recognized who she was…
But then,
He drew her from the depths of herself, when all seemed lost at sea,
Out of love, He filled her with His grace, His love, and His mercy… covering over all that she had been, and healed all that had stolen her strength. Now she is filled with His strength!
If you ever feel like you are too much for God to handle, you’re not!
I am broken in so many ways, and yet,
God loves broken things… they are the best examples of how much He can do!
With God, no wave is too big, no storm too fierce… and no force on earth can surpass the power of the One who created all!
Never give up! Never stop believing in the power of God’s love for us… He gave us his only Son!
If that’s not love, I don’t know what else to say…
Some of my earliest childhood memories come from life on the farm. All of the good ones that stuck to the walls of my heart, were the ones with my mother, and often in the garden or within the kitchen. One particular memory arose this morning, as I lay in the darkness just before dawn, leaving me a tad perplexed, as to its purpose. I’m still not fully certain I’ve grasped all of its meaning, but we shall roll forward anyway, as I tend to do with things God asks of me… sometimes we never see a thing til long afterward, and sometimes never! I try not to ask God about his purpose too much, mostly because I wish to focus on being obedient in a task, regardless of whether or not further details might be forthcoming. So with this in mind, I will simply tell you about the memory, and we can go from there.
One of my responsibilities, as the tiny little thing that I was, involved taking a large measuring cup and scooping all of the rich cream from off the top of the milk jar for my mother, each morning. We kept the fresh milk inside a large glass jar, with a piece of foil for the lid, held in place with a rubber band. Once the cream settled at the top, my mother would then pull the jar out of the refrigerator, set it on the counter, and stand me upon a stool beside it. My mother busied herself at the sink, while I slowly and meticulously scooped the creamy liquid into a separate container. I knew it would soon be transformed into sweet butter and other yummy things, making my mouth water, along with setting my tummy to growling.
That was it… just a brief vision of skimming cream off the top of a mason jar of milk in my mamma’s kitchen, some 50 odd years ago. Strange, isn’t it, how the mind works?
At first, I didn’t even understand what the memory had to do with anything at that moment, as I was lying there in the dark pondering what I should write for today’s episode on Matters of The Heart. Then, in an instant, I was reminded of an article I posted not two days ago, I think. Remember the other day, I wrote about boxes, and how we often use them to navigate our thoughts, frequently needing to sort them in one form or another? Well, it dawned on me that if we sort things in our brain, we most probably have those boxes stored somewhere within the corridors of our hearts, which is where I was headed in the first place!
But, what on earth does skimming have to do with sorting, you might be wondering? Well, if we sort things that our mind stores within our heart, or even sort things from within our heart to store in our mind, it isn’t such a great leap of thought to consider that we also might have picked up a particular habit of existence… the skimming over of the things we keep stored in our heart, often taking up too much of our closet space.
This habit starts when we are very young, from birth, in fact! We learn a thing, and continue on from there, growing, learning and developing into who we are as adults. Would you agree that none of us fully relive the memory of learning how to suckle from the breast each morning. We learned it, grew from it, were weaned of it, and now just skim the surface of its relevance in our existence.
Skimming, as with anything else, is neither good nor evil, in and of itself. Often, we use this skill to review a thing, or glean a piece of information needed for a particular task, without having to go through it in detail… it’s a time saver!
The problem occurs when one attempts to skim over a thing they’ve never before read, or even make the assumption that they only need to see a portion, as they’re sure they remember the rest. In terms of the corridors of the heart, all those boxes we keep stored and tucked away in our closets, begin to break down from a lack of sorting, organizing, and cleaning. From there, many of the things missed during the skimming process, now begin to spill out into our corridors. I don’t know about any of you, but God walks those corridors beside me always, so even if I don’t want to take notice of that which I am now tripping over as we walk… He does!
While we might fear God kicking our boxes around, demanding that we clean up our dirty bits that have fallen out of their hidey holes, this couldn’t be further from the truth. As a child that has been covered by the blood of the risen son of God, my creator only sees that which his son died to pay for! While God sees all of what is within my heart, He only focuses on what has been washed white as the purest snow… that’s me, right here, right now. Before you start thinking that this means we can leave our hearts corridors a cluttered mess, my hope is that we might want to stop skimming over things that are of eternal importance, and clean up our corridors as that of a bride preparing herself for the Groom.
While it might be acceptable to put all of our unmentionables and dirty bits away from the guests we’ve just invited into our home for Sunday dinner, as I’m sure their observant eyes will be skimming … it’s not healthy, in the least, to do this with God. The only thing one might accomplish by this bad habit, is never having a clean enough corridor for God to fill with the gifts He wants to place there!
What does this mean for me, personally? I am learning to fully read the scriptures before me, taking the time to search for what God has tucked within its pages, instead of skimming over what I assume isn’t needed. I’m using my new efforts of NOT skimming, by more carefully sorting through my boxes and discarding that which God no longer recognizes. He sees all that is in my heart, and He stays anyway! So, I wish to make the rooms and corridors of my heart as inviting as possible for He who dwells there…
I really had no good answer for the prompt this morning, so I peeked into my prompt archives, in hopes of remembering what I’d said last year. I’m rather glad that I looked, though I never did locate last years response. Oddly, I rolled across a response that wasn’t attached to any specific prompt, but it felt somewhat relevant to this mornings query.
From November of last year,
… When it comes to being a writer, I’ve mentioned before how I like to answer the prompts because they help me to think outside of my writing box, if you will. I can write about things I normally wouldn’t, and often dabble in poetry or other forms of writing that aren’t my usual style. I try to stretch myself as a writer, so that I can develop a deeper skill and literary depth, for writing that which is in my heart.
Thinking outside the box has been an adage used for far greater a time, than even I can remember. It’s a fantastic analogy for more than just writing, as it comes into play in every corner of our internal processing. In every part of us there are boxes of beliefs, boxes of opinions, boxes of hurts, boxes of memories, and boxes of behaviors… all of which eventually get full, or sometimes hold nothing at all. What do we do with them all, when there is no more room to even cross the floor, without walking on or stepping in differing boxes to get there?
On the flip side, what if the room were vacant with no boxes at all? Humans need boxes to navigate the crossing of the room to the doorway in the corner.
Boxes are just boxes, quite benign. They’re neither good or bad… just useful, in sorting through life’s experiences. However, what we do with the box, is a whole different ball of wax!
Do we seal them up with packing tape, pushing them to the sides of the room to be forgotten? What if there’s something useful we may need later? Just in case, we might take a sharpie and put a label on the box like, *Remember me when you are ready to throw in the towel*. We seem to live in some of our boxes, refusing to come out and cross the floor, finding comfort and safety in the familiar surroundings of things unchanged by outside forces. The flap on these boxes are worn, tattered and torn… no longer able to be completely closed. Neither of these two extremes is very healthy.
That is where thinking outside the box comes into play… maybe even evolving into something like Navigating the Ins and Outs of Boxes. For this we need tools… mental, emotional and spiritual tools. I wandered for most of my literary life, existing for the most part, sealed inside boxes of my past… one that couldn’t be altered or undone, no matter how long I hid myself within those boxes.
I sort of think that our painful journey over the last 4 years, actually tore the lids off all my boxes… forcing me to come out into the light. Had things not gone badly, as they did, I would still be sitting in my recliner, there in Virginia, over 100 lbs. heavier, completely doped up on medications, and so hopelessly depressed that suicide was actually looking good, and I am not being flippant!
Fast forward to now, living the way we do and writing the way I currently have been, I can say with certainty that my writings would not be possible, nor could they even have been born into my imagination… were I still back there in that old recliner (box).
I like living freely… skipping from one box to another, moving items from one hidden corner, and bringing them out into the light to organize and sort through for the useful stuff, even though sometimes I don’t feel like expending the effort.
For me personally, living this way has brought that which I had sought for all my days… Joy in the Journey… I found it!
Nothing worth having is easy, and putting forth the effort (routine) is what makes all the difference in the world!
Journey With Me! 