Religion


Ok, it’s not that I haven’t tried to post.

It’s not that the technology is beyond me.

It’s that the technology is out to get me.

Paranoid as it sounds, my every attempt to finish the picture tour of the new space was sabotaged by one computer issue or another.

Inevitable user-frustration cross pollinated user-error to further compound the issue.

Visions of the first Well study I ever taught downloaded in my memory like the printer that printed perfectly on Tuesdays would crash every Wednesday.

I’ve tried four times; this will be the final strategic attempt and, if I don’t get more pictures up today,  well you’re just going to have to come visit!

In fact, you need to come visit anyway!

Here’s some morning inspiration I see in the kitchen with my morning coffee.

Be still and know that I am God.
This verse conducts a calm in my heart like none other.
Such elegant simplicity affirms, baffles, and delights me.

I had originally placed the apron on the pantry door to send a photo to a heart sister, but fell for the sass of its whimsy and constant reminder of how versatile a household tool aprons can be.

The yellow stairway is adjacent to the yellow kitchen. I still think of Oz amid all that yellow and have taken to naming the occasional spider Toto.

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.

I read this verse every time I head up the steps
with Thanksgiving
to walk out His plan for us here.
A good plan, if not an easy one yet.
A plan I trust and will obey.

The photography above and below the verse was taken by a friendship doctor, constant reminders of the priceless remedy of his quiet love and boisterous talents.

Check out Sprout!
If you’re late to the party, you can read Sprouts origin story here.
Go ahead and count the number of shoots.
Go ahead,
go ahead!
He cycles anew and is ready to plant.

As respectfully as Mary to the angel, I look at that plant every day and pray, “May it be also with me and my Faith.”
May I cycle anew here.

The kids’ rooms gallery their own art and passions. This is the Oldest Girl’s self-portrait:

Sister The Middle Girl’s silhouette:

The Baby collaborated with her sister on this piece intended to help them embrace the vivid colors of their room:

As they splattered, stomped and kissed, they decided that they wanted bold text as part of the piece.

Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Kindness, Goodness, Faithfulness, Gentleness and Self-Control.

Was I proud they independently chose to make art from the Fruit of the Spirit?

Can ya gimme a Hallelujah!

What is missing from this scene?

Look hard.
Harder.
Harder!

 

 

The diaper-changing pallet!
It’s the first time in 14 years that our bed has not had a changing station atop it.

It still looks empty to me that way.

Every day, I miss my LPK babies
and their giggle-coo music
drool persusion ahhhs
and stacata da-da-das
and love smell
that triggers hope dopamine.

 

Mamma love,
palms of peace.


McLove,
faces of peace
through Body’s lens

 

New digs for old tools.

In this space, He often meets me low and lifts me on high.

Not through my strength, but His strength alone.

Grace.

This tour captures snapshots of views my eyes light upon each day.

Where my thoughts dwell.

Consider it one salted peanut.
A taste.
An invitation to come gather at our table
and join us again
and together feast
with Thanksgiving
His daily bread.

I miss you.

I love you.

I trust Him.

There’s a blaze of light
In every word
It doesn’t matter which you heard
The holy or the broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah!

 

I’m so in love with Paul right now.

His encourage words slap slips with the supreme reminder of His glorious strength shared through us and in us.

He’s a marvelous enjambment to my Beatitudes Fall and Spring.

Paul doesn’t mind the heat of the Summer, even Here, because he’s learned how to be happy in whatever circumstance God places Him:

Not that I speak in respect of want: for I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content, (Philippians 4:11).

In terms of dynamic duos, Batman, Paul delivers!

He uploads our Father’s Promise that we can do all things through Christ who strengthens us, and also that we can learn to be fully content in every state.

Given the poison of ingratitude in me, I neglect the power of Christ in me.

I more often cringe in fear than stand content in the power Christ.

If we’re looking at what matters,
and telling the hard truth-
like a Supernatural
echocardiogram…

This move, for example, is something
I can go all rogue about like Paul in prison,
and be content whatsoever state I am,
or I can allow a seed of malignant bitterness
grow crab weed tumors
in my heart.

This weekend,
the venom of thanklessness
flooded my thoughts
again
and again
and again.

I,
little i,
sinful i,
cleaved grievance,
pulled it close like a precious babe,
and allowed it suckle.

Hard to think holy and nurture hate.

The same daughter that seeks Obedience, His path for my feet, and His Face of Love was the woman that screamed at her husband Saturday,

“… I want to go home!”


ellipses

candid as I am,

I am unwilling submit

the entire quote

Let’s leave it that this Baby Girl, full-bred daughter of Eve, choked on the wormy apple, pride.

Large!

In default mode already,
I did what I do
when in that blind dark.
I ran away.
Aerobically mind you,
athletically,
no sense not getting
the workout
in midhuff…

Thankfully, in lieu of more futile rehearsal about how I feel tranfers onus on anyone else, I began to think about Paul’s orthodox view that I could bear any circumstance because of the strength of Christ within me.

Pique aside, even I am stilled when I consider His Glory within me. Certainly, I want him to be glorified more than I was mad at my husband, wanted to be right, or even wanted to go home.

In fact, Paul would chide that I am not only already home, but that I’d better get busy on my gratitude education just like in Proverbs 3:11-12:

But don’t, dear friend, resent
God’s discipline; don’t sulk
under his loving correction.
It’s the child he loves that
God corrects; a father’s
delight is behind all this.

A Father’s delight,
A Son’s strength,
an imprisoned apostle gratified…

The idea that I can learn what Paul mastered through Christ’s strength
and be happy in every circumstance
oh so stokes my go fire,
my go,
Go!
GO! Fire,
my more walking, less takling blaze,
more than kettlebell Bella,
more than the eyes in my pen,
more than hard runs on wet sand…

I trust my Lord Deliverer has done more than put me in a new town.

He’s new expectations for me Here too.

I will not resent them nor sulk, instead, _content_ I will seek His Delight behind it all.

I will also remember, loved one, there’s a bigger THERE than There that I’d best concern myself while HERE Here…

Later the same day, The Husband and I took the girls to the beach and where, like when an opthamologist asks which lens it better,

“1 or 2?
A or B,
Now this
or that?
More clear
or less?”

beauty was easier to see and the content like sand between my toes was more tactile than socks:

Salty prayers on soft sand as wind carressed my shoulders like a reassuring touch…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 A cloud angel waved her wing,
parted,
and crowned
a perfect baby rose.

 

 

 

 

 

A child splashed forward,
like the tide,
stick in eager clenched fist,
to etch
the perfect message
in the sand

 

 

 

 

 

 

and seashell mulch
crispy as Captain Crunch
under content heels
headed home.

 

 

 

 

 

Prison ain’t got no seashell mulch.

I imagine I can muster me some Paul juice on Jesus rocks this Winter…

 

There’s a blaze of light in every word
It doesn’t matter which you heard
The holy or the broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah!

 

 

 

August,
noble,
eighth month,
venerable,
midsummer,
regal,
Harvest time,
distinguished,
vacation time,
stately,
hottest season,
imposing,
driest season,
grand,
Height of a long,
hot summer,
Majestic,
Worst of a long,
hot summer,
Birthday.

August hosted several key birthday in our family circle.

My Cars-entranced BB turned 4,
brokenhallelujah.org celebrated its first year,
and my birthday was yesterday.

The Middle Girl began my morning with a sweet hug and greeting, “This is our first birthday Here.”

“Yep,” I replied in a tone that I hoped captured reassurance as sweet as icing, “I get to go first.”

“Just like a flu shot,” she rejoined without an ounce of irony.

Just like a flu shot.

It was innocent levity that I was happy quote throughout the day as people from There called me Here to share a Love that transcends geography.

I am so grateful
for that kind of Love.
That kind of family
and precious friends.

Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.

Such agape love tats the lace of Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow.

And we can Love this way only because He loved us first.

Jesus Christ the same yesterday, and today, and forever, (Hebrews 13:8).

Oh, how He loves us.
Oh, how He loves.

The immutability
of our Lord’s character
promises Forever’s gift.

Love wins.
He’s alive,
and His life
is our Victory.

I’ve told the truth, I didn’t come to fool you
And even though it all went wrong
I’ll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah!

For me, the first 10 minutes on a piece of stationary equipment like a treadmill or eliptical machine is like the first 100 miles of a road trip.

Slow.

Just as something shifts when the tripometer flips from 99 to 100, so too is there a momentum revolution when minute 9 vaults to minute 10.

I am aware that both measures trigger more of a change in attitude than behavior.

If you were to photograph me driving mile 99 of a trip, my behavioral posture would not appear measurably different from a shot of me cruising mile 101.

Likewise, you can’t cheat a treadmill (or Bella). It goes as fast as I set it and I have to work my body the same way to run minute 9 and 11.

The attitudinal delta intrigues me.

I sense it houses
breath,
hope,
peace,
and epiphany.

So what is it that changes my road trip mentality from, “We’re NEVER going to get there,” to, “We got this, we’re already 100 miles in!”

Or, “Oh, I’m so tired! Argh! This is hard, pant, pant, whine, pant,” to, “Oh yeah, I got this, I’m strong, No problem!”

Common to both initial phases is anxiety. What is underneath each endeavor is more than not wanting to do the unplesant or difficult, but not truly believing that I can.

And, of course, I can’t in my own strength.

Concert to both shifts is confidence that what is being attempted is also obtainable.

Peace is the fruit of confidence. The sweet nectar that drips honey and thick syrup certainty that God tabernacles with me:

And let the peace of God rule in your hearts, to the which also you are called in one body; and be you thankful., (Colossians, 3:15).

This is the Peace God gives in Philippians 4:7: Then God’s peace, which goes far beyond anything we can imagine, will guard your hearts and minds in union with the Messiah Jesus.

The image of Peace as a guard of the heart is like an umpire behind hoomeplate. Peace is there to govern the calls and choices in our lives.

An historical allusion to Olympic games, the message here proclaims that God gives us the authority to act like the govenors of the Olympics as rulers our hearts.

We are to guard our hearts and protect them from the world, to preside in our hearts; sit as umpires there; to invite the indweeling of God’s own Spirit, that divine calm and peace to govern and control us.

We are Called to Peace,
liberation from anxiety,
freedom from agitations,
control of passions,
rest from tumult.

This is not the promise that we do not face anxiety, agitations, passion and tumult, but that through the Grace of God’s peace that transcends all understanding, we may heed His call among the white noise of those elements and be at rest to press into Him and acknowledge our need for His Merciful intercession.

I don’t know about you, but I am utterly dependent upon Him now (as ever) and need his intercession like CPR for for my transitional attitude.

More than ever, I seek
God’s favor,
His calm presence,
His harmony,
His signature peace,
His love song in my life.

As in Ephesians 4: 4-6

There is one body
and one Spirit—
just as you were called to one hope
when you were called—
one Lord,
one faith,
one baptism;
one God and Father of all,
who is over all and through all and in all.

Nothing better tills Peace and Order than gratitude for the mercies of God’s abundant garden.

 

I’ll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah!

I’d like to introduce you to a new member of our family rhythm:

Her name is Bella.

Her name now is Bella.
I used to call her Beasty.
Admittedly sometimes even Witchy-poo…

Because she intimidated the pee out of me.
Sadly, I do mean this both figuratively
and literally.

And this little precious is Babe.

She’s Bella’s sister.
Both issue from the family Kettle.

Like a training bra, Babe was my first encounter into the clan Kettlebell.

Similarly, like a tween I wasn’t completely certain I wanted to wear a kettlebell, let alone swing one around like a Spring Fling dance partner.

Sweet as she looked, I was pretty confidant she’d pinch, bite and grab me unawares if I gave her any leave.

Frankly, she scared me.

And Bella?
Bella Girl came home on The Husband’s arm.
She struck terror in me as would a shark under my Boogie Board.

The first morning I stood on the mat in front of Babe I cried acrid tears of frustration. My legs trembled; I got a charley horse in my calf during my attempt to stretch away the shakes with leg extensions, and, for the first time since The Husband dragged me to a free CrossFit class three years ago, I feared that I wouldn’t be able to do something in the gym.

Now, before any newer reader misunderstand this statement with pride, allow me clarify. I’m not a jock, juicer or power lifter. I am, however, more often than not, too stupid to factor my very real, human limits in my attempts at fitness. Such judgement lapses have demanded Stupid Tax in precious salt and injury more times than I want to confess here.

So, for me to vow that I was uncertain that I was capable of the demands of a workout instead of reckless self-reliance gives you context for how much Witchy-Poo mocked my confidence.

And her little sister, Babe too.

Another comparison to CrossFit (aside from that workout also made me pee my pants),
is the Kettle ladies were The Husband’s initiative.
His kind of thing.
Just how he rolls, ya know.

I stood there across the mat as I watched The Husband toss Witchy-Poo around like she was a Swifer.

He was all glide and
“Pop your hips hard,”
and “Don’t let your heels come off the mat.”
Mind you, his sweet little Swifer weighed 45 pounds,
and he popped off 50 reps like it costs him nothing.

Once he hit 20, I knew that I won’t be able to do it.
I am not that strong.
My base strength notwithstanding,
this level of weight and intensity is not my kind of thing.
Not how I roll, ya know?

However, another way I don’t roll,
is I don’t let a piece of equipment be my no.
My yes is my yes,
and my no be my no,
and no Kettle gal gets to swing my man or make my call.

So, I pick up Babe that first morning, all awkward and goofy because she’s heavy and her bar is curved and I’m used to free weights. Somehow 35 pounds feels more solid the way Babe bears it like how different people store excess body fat differently.

My first 5 swings are so poor that I cry.
I simply can’t get the rhythm of the movement
all glide and
“Pop your hips hard,”
and “Don’t let your heels come off the mat.”

I barely got to 20 before I had to take a break.
It took me 3 more sets to get to goal, 75.
It was an ugly 75.
Poor form.
Tight muscles.
Locked hips.

I didn’t quit her, though I thought I wanted to at the time. We did our dance every day I worked out and Babe became a central piece of my workouts.

That was three months ago, about the time The Husband and I began to seriously investigate this transitional sabbatical.

Babe and I don’t dance anymore unless I take her on the road because she’s lighter and easier to transport.

Bella’s my dance partner now.
And I lead.
And I am so in love with her that our dances together are my favorite parts of each workout.

Bella is honest too like a judge that can’t be bought.
She weighs what she weighs.
She won’t swing unless I pick her up and swing her.
It’s always hard and sometimes she can still make me whistle pant,
but she’s honest as the scale.

Bella wasn’t in the range of my established strength when I first met her.

Heck, even her little sister, Babe wasn’t.

Three months ago, Babe and Bella remained exclusively in the category of my potential strength.

I wasn’t strong enough to do a set of 75, let alone 100 with either gal.

I had to work,
train,
pee,
cry,
swing,
over and over,
and over and over,
and over and over,
and over and over again
day after day
after day
after day
to grow my base strength
strong enough to heft either lady.

I relied on the established level of finess I had to enhance my performance to reach my potential strength with the Kettles.

I thought a lot about Bella in church yesterday. The Pastor of the church we shopped taught on Paul’s promise, “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me,” (Ephsians, 4:13).

When I first connected with our church There, it was similar to my first encounters with Babe. I not only didn’t have the skills, but I relied on my own strength.

It was only when I met Love’s Face that I began to understand that I don’t have to attempt to do life reliant upon my own strength alone.

Thank God

In fact, who I was before I became His bride was similar to my physical condition when I stood before Babe on the mat.

Once I said, “I do,” to Him
he had to teach me,
and I had to work,
train,
pee,
cry,
swing,
over and over,
and over and over,
and over and over,
and over and over again
day after day
after day
after day
to grow my base Faith
strong enough to heft His call in my life
through Grace
His strength
and for His Glory.

Like Bella,
He’s a Gentleman,
He’s the perfect Judge
and He’ll never push.
He won’t make me pick Him up
or meet Him where I am
every day beyond
my willingness.
My heart must be available for His Lead,
I trust Him on the dance floor of my life.

This realization demands that I stop to imagine with wonder what is possible when I cooperate with God’s will through His strength. Surly, that’s the stuff that grants the richest treasury of His Glory. Paul asserts that we will be strengthened in full measure of His infinite Glory.

I want to be the kind of strong Timothy talks about in 2 Timothy 2:1, “(S)trong in the grace that is in Christ Jesus.”

That’s how I want to be cut,
Grace cut.

He knows our base strength better than we as He made us perfectly and well.

He also delights in our potential strength through His supernatural Grace and Glory.

The Hope of His heart is our continual
growth,
training,
development,
movement,
and fullness.

He seeks communion with us
over and over,
and over and over,
and over and over,
and over and over again
day after day
after day
after day
to perfect our Faith
and Light our lives
like a lamp at our feet.

As for me,
right now
I can’t get me enought of Him
or Bella.

May it ever be so with me.

It’s not somebody who’s seen in the light
It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah

Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah

Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah!

 

Like a jewel in a box, I discovered this YouTube clip in my inbox today:

Figuring Life Out- One Thousands Gifts by Ann M Voskamp.

As I referred to this very title earlier this week, I feel certain it appropriate to play this precious pearl forward and trust you too will recieve it as a gift.

Since I first viewed it, it invited a dance of poetry upon my heart. Her words tango in italics and mine simply follow her dazzling lead:

Stay Awake!

We are born
with heaven’s scent
upon naked skin
to capture
moments,
microscopic,
fleeting moments

with butterfly net
marvel
like children
come to Him.

Inoculate atrophy.
Stay fully wake!
Dilate the aperture
of your lens
to seek Up
and out
and within.

Life is NOT an emergency
and God is NOT a 911 dispatch operator.
Life may be cherished
only in the hands
of the unhurried

like a meal carried to a new mother
with freshly baked,
still warm,
chocolate, chocolate-chip
banana bread.
Life is the True dessert.

Stop gulping!
Savour the icecream cone,
pause between licks
as vanilla beans
paint your throat sweet.
True love smiles
from this green patch of life
All for YOU, beloved!!

Sing gratitude for the
seemingly small and insignificant
jewels of life like
a Swallow Tail butterfly
lights like a queen
on the open kiss of your palm!
Puffs from your own
breath polish
Hallelujah crowns.

Count the ways He loves!
NEVER stop!!!!!

You can slow.
You can wait.
You can Trust.
You can Love,
Holy
Ordinary
Amazing Grace
.

There’s a blaze of light in every word
It doesn’t matter which you heard
The holy or the broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah,
Hallelujah.
Hallelujah,
Hallelujah!

I chatted with one of my friends today. Like a Spring bouquet, she rainbows color and sports many nicknames, Captain and Princess among them. She creates a delicious, tangy tension in my life like sweet and sour shrimp. She’s got attitude  aplenty and I am never certain if she is going to spank me with accountability or give me a hug.  And that’s just one of the reasons I love her.

As we swapped sass, she challenged me to claim a scripture to which I had just alluded as a verse over my life on this coast of change like a lease on the house in a dead market:

I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me, (Philippians, 4:13).

Sounds just like Paul, doesn’t it?

Talk about a guy you never know is going to slap you up side the attitude or give you a hug!  He and Captain are two peas in a pod!

Paul calls the church to Faith over and over in scripture. Like a General, he’s got pristine standards of conduct for his troops too. However, he is simultaneously Gentle and always remembers who paid to make him free.

In this verse, Paul claims victory through the strength of Christ.

Moreover, he asserts that he can “do all things,” through the robust, living vitality of Jesus. Who better than Paul can tell me that any trial, duty, temptation or condition is bearable?

He’s got quite a vitae that one.

His words echo without an ounce of vanity, reckless self-reliance or pride. His biography warrants him experience and he knows that he knows his source of strength.

I too can do all things through Christ Jesus.

Like Paul and you, I have complete championship through Jesus who is my strength and redeemer.

I stake this claim with an admission.

Every minute here is not bathed in sun and charged with amusement park joy and funnel cakes.

There are many tears.

Tides of grief
rotate shores.

Valleys of boxes,
panic attacks,
and uncertainty so visceral
that I sleep
badly
with a paper bag
under my pillow.

There is also Jesus.

Jesus is one colossal PEACE ATTACK!

Yesterday,
Today,
And Tomorrow.

This, however, is not a handkerchief place.

This space offers another altar from which I may Praise His Holy Name.

And I can do all things through the strength of Christ Jesus even when I when I weep, grieve, hold a sobbing child, attack boxes or wipe just as a nursing Mamma multi-tasks!

Postpartum blur and memory issues aside, I know that you remember how many things you could do as you nursed like a human octopus with nipples.

That said, like many adult children, I still call home.

Because home is a handkerchief  place.

When I called home yesterday,  Nana told me a story about a treasure she had found in her dresser that very day.

She had saved an email that I had written to her during a time of challenge and transition.

She soothed,  “What better than words from your own mouth to comfort you today?”

See how strong is my Champion Jesus?

I can do all things through my kind-hearted Brother who strengthens me so WELL with infinite buckets of living water.

I can do this.

My children can do this.

It’s a good plan, not an easy, but a good.

I Trust Him.

Well there was a time when you let me know
What’s really going on below
But now you never show that to me do you?
And remember when I moved in you?
And the holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah!

God cradled us in his arms today.

He broke down our every barrier with complete and personal confirmation of His will in our lives.

We stand amazed by His Sovereignty and trust in His Faithfulness.

We were reminded to never mistake the silence of God for the absence of God.

We were challenged to believe that God is most powerfully present when He seems apparently absent.

We are promised Holy and sure blessings.

We are called to walk to through the valley before we stand before the mountain of God.

Today God met us exactly where we stood.

He called us to the alter and bid us come.

He held us there and bound us to each other anew.

For of him,
and through him,
and to him,
are all things:
to whom be glory for ever.
Amen.

We feel assured that He will build our characters in the desert and Portion us our daily bread.

We are grateful beyond breath and commit our hearts and feet to walk this out and Praise Him.

I did my best, it wasn’t much
I couldn’t feel, so I tried to touch
I’ve told the truth, I didn’t come to fool you
And even though it all went wrong
I’ll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah!

Flight delayed.

Normally this would challenge my patience. However, as so many of the people around me have already ditched their cool, the theater of their responses offers experience enough.

I do not delight in their frustration. I’m just happy that in this one moment, I have declined the invitation to throw a temper tantrum. So as I look across me at the frustrated mother that tosses anger grenades on her children like a pitching machine, I know that has been me. I know that could be me. No finger pointing, simply grateful for this reprieve for my own family.

Flight delayed sets the table for an unexpected repast, a welcome opportunity to sit still as my thoughts go ambulatory.

For instance, I realize that I have not been at an airport since my recent binge of the entire six seasons of Lost on Netflix. I admit that I miss Hurly and still wonder why Ben Linus wouldn’t go into the church, what work he felt called to finish. Lost was a festival of brokenness, broken people, broken island, broken relationships. As I look around me, I marvel how intact people appear outwardly in their Ralph Lauren shirts and Reef flip flops that comfortably stage caramel-apple-brown pedicures while inwardly, we’re all like Jack and Kate. Or Libby, I’d rather be a Libby than a Kate, tragic end notwithstanding.

If you were a character on Lost, which character would you be and why?

The Baby just asked if she could peel off with The Husband to help him find lunch. She skipped into his open arms with a giggle joy like you hear in a family neighborhood when the ice-cream truck lets rip its siren song that promises Dreamsicles. She leapt into her father’s arms and knew she was perfectly happy and completely loved. It struck me as she did that she really had no idea where they were going. She was in the harbor of her father’s arms and trusted its safety and his direction. It was one of those Abba moments when I drank in the presence of my Father’s arms that cradle me in every day. Would that I trust His Direction with the purity that my daughter just found in her papa’s embrace.

Flight delayed.

Just the phrase tags associations like kids call “You’re It!” at the park.

Developmental delay.

Delayed satisfaction.

There’s been a slight delay.

Don’t delay, buy today.

Delayed payment.

Traffic delays.

I’ve been delayed.

Running late.

Late fees.

Late payment penalties.

I’m late. (tardy)

I’m late. (preggers)

Regardless of the spin, I’m socially wired to abhor delays.

Oh so, Verruca, “I want it now!”

I want to be on time!

I’m Bard-bent to participate on my own terms, “Hold me not, let me go!”

Delay quickens stress that spins the balance of my over-scheduled paces like the Tea Cups at Disney Land.

As I sit here with a boarding pass that won’t let me go anywhere any time soon and front row tickets to the anxiety antics of the would-be passengers all around me, I realize how ridiculously I strive to drive my agenda on my own strength.

I am not freaking out, because this delay has absolutely nothing to do with the work that I do for others. It’s just an inconvenience, not a hardship to those who count on me. In this blessed context, not one person waits for me to arrive on the other end. I am not late to pick up a child. I am not late for a meeting. I am not late to teach a lesson. I am not late to carry a meal.

No one is disappointed.

I’m not missing anything.

I’m just delayed.

This makes me reconsider how The Baby jumped into her papa’s arms. His embrace captured her delight even though she did not know where they were going or what they might find once they got there.

I need to trust the One that made not only me, but Time itself. I want to jump into the arms of He who breathed Life into the Universe and delight even though I don’t know where I am going or what I will find when I get there.

As her papa carried The Baby down the concourse in search of a chicken sandwich, she looked ahead and smiled confidently.

Flight delayed.

Trust My timing.

I am going to snuggle up in the arms of Love, sit in this chair and smile.

I am not one minute late.

His Love lets me go.

His Love sets me free.

I did my best, it wasn’t much
I couldn’t feel, so I tried to touch
I’ve told the truth, I didn’t come to fool you
And even though
It all went wrong
I’ll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah!

Dear Father God,

We glorify your name. Beloved Lord, we rejoice always as you are our Rock, our Fortress, and our Salvation. Father God, our rock, in you we find protection and power. You alone are our shield that saves us. Though you dwell in the secret place of the most high, you abide with us. Hear our cries Lord, we are hungry for your comfort and Love. We thirst for your wisdom and the refuge of your Word. Anoint us so that we can hear the passion of your heart that breaks with love for us and promises healing.

Blessed Father, hallowed be thy name. We are your people. We rejoice always Father and give thanks in all circumstances; for this is your will through Christ Jesus. We will say of the Lord, you are our Refuge and Fortress, our God, in you we will trust. Surely you will deliver us from the snare and bathe us in the Truth of your Light and Mercy.

Father, we gather together today in solidarity. Draw us near, Lord, hear our hearts that seek your comfort and healing. Invade us with a unity of purpose that will break down walls and heal people.

Open, up the skies of Mercy and rain down upon our hearts. Help quiet the storms that rage all around us and help us hear your Love Song play over our lives. You made it so bright and beautiful out there today, Abba, help us drink in that Light. Help us forgive ourselves and heal our relationships through forgiveness and Grace. Rush in upon every aspect where are strength wearies and please continue to grow our characters to bring Glory to your Name. Help us measure others by the Hand that knit our lives together and abandon all judgement.

We want to hear your Love song. Help us listen to the music you play in our lives with Thanksgiving. Where there is Light and Laughter let us hear your Love Song. Where there is Light and Water, let us hear your Love Song. Where there is Light and community gathered, let us hear your Love Song. Where there is Light and work, Let us hear your Love Song.

Sing to us in the morning, Sing to us in the day, Sing to us in the evening, we can only love each other because you Loved us first.

We ask for the protection over our lives. We cannot know and do not understand every situation we face, Father, but know You entrust us to Love one another. Give us the wisdom to serve with generosity and intention that can only come from the Spirit.

We declare your majesty under your sovereignty and trust you are more than enough to supply our understanding and direct our course. We ask you to cover our hearts and community so that nothing can dissolve our unity of purpose. Father unite us such that the enemy can not gain a foothold upon any heart or divide us. We entrust our needs to you; we entrust you to prosper our families in health, even as thy soul prospers. For the thief cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy: and Father you come to deliver us, that we might have life more abundantly.

Unify our hearts to Love you and serve each other as we seek to do only your will in our lives. You know our every need spoken and unspoken. Hear our Hearts cry, hear them cry, “Abba we adore you!” Gird us with the fortitude to fast worry and rely solely on you. Help us see challenges as a way to trust you more.

Guide our hands, feet and choices, Father and help us be of good use today.

We believe that in the Truth of your Love Song. You say to us Father, Christ the same yesterday, and today and forever. Verily, verily, we Praise your Name and shout out, you are our rock! Nothing will tear us away from your refuge and hope. We will sing your Praise forever in Jesus name. Amen.

We love you,
Women of the Well

Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah

Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah

Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah!

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