Just as He Said

After the Sabbath, at dawn on the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene

and the other Mary went to look at the tomb.

There was a violent earthquake, for an angel of the Lord came down

from heaven and, going to the tomb, rolled back the stone and sat on it.  His

appearance was like lightning, and his clothes were white as snow.
The guards were so afraid of him that they shook and became like dead men.
The angel said to the women, "Do not be afraid, for I know
that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here; He has risen,
just as he said."
Matthew 28:1-6a

"The Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders,
chief priests and teachers of the law, and He
must be killed and on the third day
be raised to life."
Luke 9:22

"Blessed are those who mourn,
for they will be comforted."
Matthew 5:4

"For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son,
that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life."
John 3:16

So the women hurried away from the tomb, afraid yet filled with joy.
Matthew 28:8

He Is Risen!
Have a blessed Easter!

On a Friday

"But He was pierced for our transgressions,

He was crushed for our iniquities;

the punishment that brought us peace was upon Him,

and by His wounds we are healed."

Isaiah 53:5

This Treasure: Her New Life Story

It was Sunday. The same Sunday I was driving home under the morning stars and the sleepy moon. That very day that I had remembered God in His place and me in mine.  His ways and His thoughts so far above my own. Him creating and breathing life into existence from nothing other than Himself. And I wonder if He smiled, laughed aloud at the wonderful secret. Shook His head knowingly.

The lesson of our worship service that Sunday morning was from the 23rd Psalm. God leading us in paths of righteousness for His name's sake. Walking through low valleys under the shadows of death and You are with me. And from Matthew 6:19-21. Where are my treasures? I knew these words. I had heard them spoken and read them many times. But this day, I remember my brain filling and swirling with new and familiar thoughts. Wishing Hubby was in the chair next to me instead of between airports. I wanted to spill it all out, all of this "Yes" I was feeling.

It was on this Sunday in January. She was driving under nighttime stars after work, going home. She called to say she wanted to stop in if that was okay. All the boys were just tucked in bed and her sister and I were visiting quietly in the kitchen. So yes.

She came in out of the cold and dark and left her Pilot running in the driveway. She and her sister leaned in,  resting elbows and turning in stools at the counter. We talked of our day. Church. Words spoken to our hearts. And she remembered the text of the lesson she heard while she sat with her husband and young children in a worship service during the same hour but in a different town. It was in Matthew. Where was her treasure?

And she shared a conversation that took place only just earlier at work and how they scoffed at the notion of a God who would require change. And it spoke to her heart. Where was her treasure?

That wasn't all. She said she had been wrestling with all she had been given and was she just being so selfish, and how her husband doesn't get real emotional and how he was the day the judge said he was officially and legally Savannah's Dad, and the recent deaths of young people and she wondered where she would go if that young person had been her. And she asked when was her dad going to be home? Because, she said it so quiet, "I want to be baptized".

And in that moment my world tilted and tears spilled and there was this rush of all those prayers becoming this moment of thanksgiving. And this mama and her daughters were in the kitchen hugging and smiling and crying all at the same time. This treasure.

And then there was later. She and her sister continued in conversation after all of this. After she had gone home and I had gone to my bed under a star-filled window, her sister was going to text her the link from Bible Gateway to a passage in Romans, and there it was on the home page, the verse for the day, Sunday, January 8th, 2012 : Matthew 6:19-21 ...lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven...

So, all these hours from the morning stars to the evening stars, from the beginning of time until this very moment, this God and His plan, He knew. He knew as I looked up this morning and this night, and all the many mornings and nights before when her dad and I breathed prayers that reached past the heavens...I am awed and overwhelmed. 

And this God of the universe, the One who breathed the stars across the heavens and calls them by name (Psalm 147:4), He knit her together(Psalm 139:13), breathed life into her body (Genesis 2:7), and called her by name (Isaiah 43:1).  She has heard her name, spoken and called. And she answered "yes".  Yes to the treasure that is only in Jesus.



Buried and Raised. Born Again. January 18, 2012

  (Her husband and children there, her brothers, her dad in the water with her, Scott to pray.
There is video of these moments, if only I knew how to transfer it from my camera to this page!!)

Sum Times: Numbering the Days

Teach us, O Lord, to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.

Psalm 90:12

On December 31st, I read back through the pages of 2011- the days and the moments,  the thoughts and the prayers I had penned. There were things I had already forgotten, and was glad I had a chance to visit there again. Not that some of those things were anything super- spectacular, but maybe that's just it. If they had been super-spectacular, I probably would not have forgotten. At least not for a while. But I am prone to forget.

I want to remember.

All throughout my life, I have tried at different times to keep a journal. It has never lasted long. I've been  plagued with  indecision - what I should or shouldn't write. How often? Everything in one place or separated topically? My thoughts and feelings or just the facts? Prayers--specific or general? What if someone should read this? What if no one ever does? What does it matter? I would become frustrated at my random attempts to record whatever it was I thought I should be recording at the time, and always ended up giving up. Those pages are gone forever.

Nearly two years ago now, I was again overcome with a strong desire to record this "stuff"--how and what I didn't know, just that I needed to be putting "it" down in some fashion. I began to look on the internet for ideas, and found this.   I clicked and trailed through every link; I loved what I saw and had fresh vision. And so, in late February of 2010, I began to journal. A little bit of everything. The facts. My thoughts and feelings. Some prayers. Some dreams and ideas. It's not organized into topics and I don't have a regular time or day for this recording. When I look back through the pages, there are strings of days all put together, and then there are big gaps of time, even whole seasons, gone missing.  Still, this is the longest I have kept up a "habit" of journaling.

I pull out the magazines I have saved appropriate for the season, and I find my favorites. Big open windows, wildflowers and birds, bright orange leaves and sun-drenched wooden floors, antique furniture and crammed bookshelves and quiet bedrooms. I tear them out, glue them to the page. Now, the page is inviting me in.  I often sit with a cup of strong coffee or Bengal Spice Tea, and begin to share my day or my thoughts or my ideas. It is still a work in progress.  I have decided it would be nice to have a calendar spread, squares to write a note for the day when I haven't the time to sit and write long. A place to record an appointment, an unexpected phone call, the first robin's return in the spring.  At times, this has worked well, and other times not, but I like the added flexibility it brings and so I am including it in my journal pages again this year.

And because I am learning to keep my eyes open to all the graces, the gifts of this life,  I also try to keep a gratitude journal. I was fairly diligent when I had tried to name 1000 gifts, but once I did, it sort of fell by the way. I have recommitted myself to thanksgiving, naming 1000 gifts again this year,  but am rethinking how to record it in such I way that I will do it with more consistancy.

And a nature journal. I've never kept one, but in recent years have thought I would like to. Beauty is all around us out here. It is the quiet backdrop to our days. I have snapped many frames of the ever-changing strokes of color in the sky, the cheerful petals of flowers, the golden grasses blowing.  This year, from my mom, I received just such a journal for my birthday.

The pages have quotes and sketches of nature, and spaces for your own sketches, written entry, or photos.

This, it makes one slow the pace to look. Amazing. Worth numbering.

And so this new year, it brings all these moments brand new, and my thoughts are all about capturing them. Remembering them. Living them.

Proclaiming them.

One generation shall praise Your works to another,...They shall utter the memory

 of Your great goodness.    Psalm 145:4,7

Declaration of the Stars

It's before sunrise. The stars are twinkling small and far away on a January morning in Minnesota. The moon is resting low, round and full in my rear view mirror. Hubby will be flying out soon to a different time zone and I am driving home to sleeping sons and daughters and daughters' sons.

 Those stars, they remind me of words I have kept in a cardboard box and have moved from house to house. They are the words I found lying among household trinkets and discarded treasures on a garage sale table for fifty cents. I don't know how they caught my eye, framed in square gold ridges, but they did, so I gave the lady some pocket change and took them home. And I'm thinking them over, as I have done so often, how they ring true and I agree and I should take them out of that box and find a home for them near a wide open window where they belong. I wonder if the words were breathed out frosty on a morning like this?

I never behold the stars that I do not feel that I am looking in the face of God. I can see how it might be possible for a person to look down upon the earth and be an atheist, but I cannot conceive how one could look into the heavens and say there is no God.   ~         Abraham Lincoln

So when I look just around the perimeters of my own life, this eye-level view crowded by people and events passing in and out of focus, into the face of all of it, and if this were the only view I had, then yes, I might begin to wonder. But when I look up and see the expanse of beauty, beauty in the dark even,  I am sure that the words of the Psalmist are true: 

The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of His hands. Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they display knowledge. There is no speech or language where their voice is not heard. Their voice goes out into all the earth, their words to the ends of the world.  Psalm 19: 1 - 4  

And into the corners of my little world. The heavens declare to me the vastness of God. They tell me of the way He is everywhere. The way He is certain. The way He is above and over and around me and those I love.  And I remember how He said "My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways," declares the Lord. "As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts." Isaiah 55:8 and 9. Whew, I am thankful, because my ways and my thoughts are not always so certain. Not always so hopeful. Very often colored by my present circumstances. And bound to change. But He " is the same yesterday and today and forever." Hebrews 3:8 Just as the constellations are sure in the heavens.

Such peace in that.

When It's Hard to See: A Lamp

Sometimes, the road you are traveling becomes unclear.

For any number of various reasons, the road suddenly no longer lies clearly before you. It may have started smooth and straight under sunny skies. You began the journey with a light backpack, new white tennis shoes, a confident smile, and your future steps seemed clearly before you. Or maybe the road on which you started your journey was rugged and uphill under skies that were overcast, but you set your jaw and lifted your load and saw clearly the steps your muddy hiking boots would be treading. But whatever the beginning, somewhere now down the road, what was once so certain is now no longer so. Maybe somewhere along the way you misread the signs. Or miscalculated the miles. Or maybe you took a shortcut. Or the scenic route. Maybe you tarried too long in a place you should have been moving quickly through. Maybe you jogged on by when you should have slowed and appreciated the view. And now you're here, wherever that is, and you feel you need to be well on your way to somewhere else. But where? And even if you new for certain where "where" was, the way to your destination is foggy and uncertain.

I know that place. In the 40+ years I've been traveling on planet earth, I've been on many roads. Parts of the journey were planned and well prepared for and there was much happiness on the way. Other times there have been unforseen hard turns to the left that sent me falling down a sharp cliff and left me bruised and hurting.  I have known both joy and heartache. Times of confidence and seasons of doubt. It would also be true to say that these moments on the road are not always synonymous with preparation or negligence.  I have known love and grace when I have made wrong turns. And I have known pain on journeys I thought I was well prepared to take.

I'm still traveling. I am certain to have moments, days, even seasons ahead where the way may be unclear.

But this I know: "Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path." Psalm 119:105

Whichever road your next steps find you on, the lamp of His word shines forth these for sure-footing:

God knows where you are:

Psalm 139:1-4, 7   "O Lord, you have searched me and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O Lord...Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?"

You are not alone:

Hebrews 13:5   "Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you."

You are loved regardless of where you are:

Psalm 130: 7  "...for with the Lord is unfailing love..."



You are heard:

Psalm 34:17   "The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears them;"

And when you are trusting in Him, you can know this:

Romans 8:28  "And we know that in all things God works to the good of those who love him "

May you find in these words a peace and confidence,  even on a road that is uncertain. 

Names and Places

I think it's kind of fun to know how or why a place got its name, the history behind it. This fall for our history studies, Joshua and I read about the founding of the Jamestown colony. The colony was given its name for obvious reasons--  in honor of King James I of England, who had granted a charter to the Virginia Company of London in 1606 to explore this new land in hopes of gaining territory and riches for England.

Several years ago when the girls were still at home, we did a study on the community of Browerville, where we were living at the time. Browerville was originally called Hartford and was located on the Long Prairie River about three miles north of where it is now. It was moved because of the future construction of the Great Northern Railroad. The owner of the land to which this community would be relocating was J.V. Brower, and so the new location was given his name.

Often times places, whether it be cities,  landmarks, or even things of nature such as rivers and mountains, are given the name of a person. Sometimes, that person is yet living when the name is given, as was the case when the colony of Jamestown and the community of Browerville were given their names. Other times, a name may be given to honor a person who has passed. Lincoln, the capital city of Nebraska, was orignally called Lancaster, and was renamed in 1867 to give honor to the recently assassinated President Abraham Lincoln. 

Sometimes the name of a location might simply be a description, like North Branch. Or it may have a hidden meaning. Not intentionally, but because languages change or become obsolete. For instance, the community where we now live is called Menahga. The name is descriptive of what once grew in abundance here, and it is an Ojibwe word which means "blueberry". Not something just everybody knows because the Ojibwe language is not a common language. I don't know a single person that could speak or even understand Ojibwe. Most of us know Philadelphia as the "city of brotherly love". But do you know that its name is derived from the Greek words phileo, which means "to love", and adelphos, which means "brother"?  I know only a few people who have a working knowledge of Greek. Sometimes the history of a name takes a little digging, but I think it's definitely worth the effort. Knowing those little tidbits of information gives a better understanding of the place.

There is certainly historical significance to the naming of a place, whether it be remembered by many for generations or by only a few for a short while. There are reasons places have the names they have. This is true all through the ages. In Biblical times, places were often named because of an event that happened at that location. Babylon is from the Hebrew word Babel, as in the Tower of Babel, and it means "confused". So named because until the building of the tower, mankind had one language. When they tried to build themselves a tower to heaven, God confused their language and the place become known as Babel, or Babylon. (Genesis 11) When Jacob had the dream of the stairway to heaven and the Lord told him that his descendants would be like the dust of the earth, Jacob woke up afraid and said, "surely this is none other than the house of God" and he named the place Bethel, which means House of God. (Genesis 28:10-22)

In our Bible reading the other day I came across this again, something I had forgotten but want to remember. I thought about sharing it, in hopes that it would help me to remember. Bethlehem. It's a city we remember during this Christmas season. We sing of it and read of it and know that it is the city where Jesus was born. But have you ever considered its name? What it means? I find this to be so fascinating! Bethlehem. I've never been to this city. Not literally, but I do know a little something about it. I know what it means, and the Person for whom it was named.  Bethlehem means "house of bread".  Maybe at first read that doesn't do much, but consider this: Jesus called himself "the bread of life". (John 6:35 and 51. Why not read the whole chapter?) I find it fascinating that long before Jesus would leave his throne in Heaven to be born in a humble stable, the name of the town to which he would come was well established as Bethlehem. House of Bread. And from within its borders, sustainance would be given for the whole world.

My prayer for you during this Christmas season is this: No matter what city you may be in or traveling to, that you would journey for a while to Bethlehem. Go inside the House of Bread and find there the Bread of Life.