weakness

I was looking through my journal and came across this poem that my brother had sent me a while back. I'm not sure who the author is. For some reason it really struck me again as I was reading it. I feel like I am supposed to post it to the blog, that maybe there is someone else who needs to hear this right now too.



“We like to put up a brave front,
To make a show of strength.
We wear ourselves out to be strong
To be capable,
To be helpful,
To do everything
For other people,
And we may end up
Frightening them half to death
With our efficiency.

Then sometimes it comes by accident,
The crack in the armor...
The shared moment of fear
Or pain,
The moment when we stretch out a hand and say
I too bleed,
I too cry—

And in relating from weakness
We may reach
What we never could have touched
With our strength.”


“...for my strength is made perfect in weakness.”

A Miraculous Story of Life

You have to read this story about a premature baby - the earliest born to survive on record!

Live!

Nothing like a little Henry David Thoreau for an early Saturday morning....excerpts taken from "Walden"

"Most men, even in this comparatively free country, through mere ignorance and mistake, are so occupied with the factitious cares and superfluously coarse labors of life that its finer fruits cannot be plucked by them. Their fingers from excessive toil, are too clumsy and tremble too much for that. Actually, the laboring man has not leisure for a true integrity day by day; he cannot afford to sustain the manliest relations to men; his labor would be depreciated in the market. He has no time to be any thing by a machine. How can he remember well his ignorance- which his growth requires- who has so often to use his knowledge? We should feed and clothe him gratuitously sometimes, and recruit him with our cordials, before we judge him. The finest qualities of our nature, like the bloom on fruits, can be preserved only by the most delicate handling. Yet we do not treat ourselves nor one another thus tenderly....

The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation....they honestly think there is no choice left....Our life is frittered away by detail...The nation itself, with all its so called internal improvements, which, by the way, are all external and superficial, is just such an unwieldy and overgrown establishment, cluttered with furniture and tripped up by its own traps, ruined by luxury and heedles expense....it lives too fast....Why should we live with such hurry and waste of life? We are determined to be starved before we are hungry...

I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan- like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it..."

Let us live deep this day.

Father of the Heavenly lights (excuse the length!)

During my devotions (which seem to be few and far between these days I regret to say!) I turned to the first chapter of James. Having read it many times before, I (I again regret to say) was sort of skimming it and reading half -heartedly. I skimmed past my usual favorites..."Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds..." and "If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault...", but it was at verse 17 and 18 that my eyes stopped. How many times had I read these verses and never really thought about what they were saying? "Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows." Of course I love the beginning, "Every good and perfect gift is from above", and my mind went immediately to my daughter napping next to me. It doesn't get much more "good and perfect" than that. But the words that really caught my attention that morning were, "Father of the heavenly lights". "Father of the heavenly lights". My God is the "Father of the heavenly lights". Wow, when I take a minute and actually think about what that means, it's almost unfathomable. My God, the One who has engraved me on the palms of his hands, as it says in Isaiah 49:16, is the Creator and Father of that great expanse of the world above me. Who hasn't layed in the grass on a summer's night or in the snow on a winter's night and looked up into the heavens and been overwhelmed by the immensity of what lay above? The dark, never ending sky, the glittering stars, the beautiful, spotted moon... I wonder if my mind will ever be able to grasp how my Father, who knows every hair on my head and every thought I have ever had, who daily listens and intercedes on my behalf, even when my requests seem so petty and trivial, is the same Father of the fiery sun, the roaring ocean, the towering sequoias... He, so powerful and magnificent, cares for me, loves me, delights in me! He, who sheds the tears I hide when I have been hurt, when my heart has been wounded by those who know nothing of who I am. He, who cheers and jumps up and down when I have risked and been me. He, who's heart is overflowing with the deepest love I could ever imagine, who can't stop gushing about how wonderful I am and how proud He is of me no matter what I do or don't do. He, who sits on my bed at night, when I am completely unaware, and gazes at me for hours, marveling at how beautiful I am and how much He loves me. That is my Father, our Father. I confess most days the thoughts I just shared that I had that morning reading James, never cross my mind. How little I think of Him being the Father of the heavenly lights. How little I shed tears when He has been hurt. How little I cheer and jump up and down when I have seen who He is. How little my heart overflows with deep love and I can't stop gushing about how wonderful He is and how proud I am of Him. How little I marvel at how beautiful He is and how much I love Him. And for this I ask forgiveness, because He deserves all that and more. But you know what? The beautiful thing is, He just keeps loving me in spite of it. I wanted to end with two things, one, one of my favorites, a song called When God Ran by Benny Hester, and two, a quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson.(you will find he is one of my favorites, though he needs some guidance on who God truly is) I won't comment on them, they pretty much speak for themselves.

Almighty God,
The Great I Am
Immoveable Rock,
Omnipotent powerful
Awesome Lord,
Victorious Warrior
Commanding King of Kings
Mighty Conquerer,
And the only time,
the only time I ever saw Him run
Was when
He ran to me,
Took me in His arms, held my head to His chest
And said "My son's come home again".
Looked in my face, wiped the tears from my eyes
With forgiveness in His voice
He said "Son, do you know I still love you?"
It caught me by surprise when God ran
The day I left Home,
I knew I'd broken His heart
I wondered if
Things could ever be the same,
Then one night,
I remembered His love for me
And down that dusty road, ahead I could see
It's the only time,
the only time I ever saw Him run
Was when He ran to me,
Took me in His arms, held my head to His chest
And said "My son's come home again".
Looked in my face, wiped the tears from my eyes
With forgiveness in His voice
He said "Son, do you know I still love you?"
It caught me by surprise, He brought me to my knees
When God ran
I saw Him run to me
And then I ran to Him

Holy God, Righteous One
Who turned my way
Now I know, He's been waiting
For this day

And then He ran to me,
Took me in His arms, held my head to His chest
And said "My son's come home again".
Looked in my face, wiped the tears from my eyes
With forgiveness in His voice
I felt His love for me again

He ran to me,
Took me in His arms, held my head to His chest
And said "My son's come home again".
Looked in my face, wiped the tears from my eyes
With forgiveness in His voice
He said Son, He said Son, He called Me Son!
Do you know I still love you
oohhh...He ran to me
When God ran.

"If the stars should appear one night in a thousand years, how would men believe and adore; and preserve for many generations the remembrance of the city of God which had been shown!"

On the neighbor theme

So last weekend I was sitting on my couch, minding my own business and reading a good book (one of the Ted Dekker Circle Trilogy books to be precise). Dear Hubby was upstairs playing computer games. It was a nice, lazy Sunday in January.

Suddenly, Dear Hubby comes charging down the stairs and nwants to know about the dude outside. I look and I notice the dude seems to be a little shifty looking. At first I think he is one of the crowd of people who regularly goes in and out of the rental across the street from us. Maybe he is just waiting for someone to come out of the house or maybe pick him up from the house. But then I notice the nondescript early 90's red car sitting there with a person in it.

Now this is not a normal car to be sitting idle outside these houses, and I am pretty familiar with every "high class" vehicle that normally sits outside our house at any given day or time, and this red thing isn't one of them. Plus, it's DANG cold, like zero degrees or less. And this dude is just standing there. I'm telling you, he looks shifty.

So Dear Hubby and I watch a little, and he continues to stand there, outside the vehicle. Slowly, a large black expensive SUV pulls up on our side of the street, and Shifty Dude walks across the street to the SUV. The SUV window rolls down, some sort of exchange is made, the SUV window goes back up, the SUV pulls away from the curb and proceeds up the street, and Shifty Dude, looking shiftier than ever, goes back across the street and gets into the car.

At this point, Dear Hubby tells me he had seen the black SUV go down our street and come back up a couple of times from upstairs, and that was what had prompted him to come down. Now, we take the ultimate step, Dear Hubby calls 911 (you know you live in a questionable neighborhood when you are encouraged to call 911 for any little suspicious thing you see. They use it as a tracking system to try and funnel more police prescence into our area). We report the goings on and are told a squad is being dispatched. Now we sit back and anxiously wait.

See, I have this highly developed sense of justice, and I want Shifty Dude and his Red Car Driving Accomplice to get caught. How DARE they do drug deals in front of MY house!! We watch and wait, breathing "hurry up" prayers for the squad car every few seconds. Shifty Dude and his R.C.D.A are bent over something in the car. What are they doing?

Suddenly, Shifty Dude steps back out of the car, rubbing his nose like he's got a schnoz full of toot, and starts to meander down the sidewalk. The R.C.D.A pulls slowly out from the curb and drives down the block. They round the corner and disappear!! Dear Hubby and I are very much dismayed. We wanted to see these guys busted! But, sorely disappointed, Dear Hubby calls back 911 and advises them that Shifty Dude has moved on.

Fast forward to that evening. Ten o'clock or so. It is still about zero degrees, windy, and it is now snowing. The doorbell rings. We look at each other. Who rings a doorbell in our neighborhood at ten o'clock on a Sunday night? We aren't expecting anyone. This can't be good.

Dear Hubby goes to the door. I turn down the TV, but don't manage to catch much of the exchange. Thoughts flit through my head . . . someone looking for drug money? What if he gets shot? Dear Hubby closes the door and sits down. Who was it? Some guy who had walked several blocks looking for baby formula for his baby. They just moved here from Seattle. He had his Seattle drivers license and a utility bill listing his address on Emerson, verifying himself.

And I am smitten with remorse. What would Jesus have done? Here we were, all set to be judge and jury for Shifty Dude, waiting to cheer his capture, his just desserts. And this poor man, just looking to catch a break after walking so far-- I had him pegged to be a dangerous person too. And I find myself wondering, what good are we doing in this neighborhood?

I mean, I want to be here to make a difference. I want to be a light for Jesus, to shine in the darkness that is North Minneapolis. But when Jesus shows up at my door, I turn him away. True, we don't have cash, and we don't have baby formula. I thought maybe we could have taken him to the store in our car (and then the thought creeps in, "what if he would overpower you and steal your car?" After all, as Dear Hubby points out, baby formula is used to cut cocaine). But it WAS after ten o'clock and the closest grocery stores would have been closed. Dear Hubby is still skeptical. Maybe he was just out looking for drug money. But my gut says otherwise. Why would he have had all that documentation to prove himself? He must have known people would think that. I asked Dear Hubby if he saw the guy's address. Maybe we could take a bag of groceries over the next day. But no, he didn't see it. So, there again, we fail. I find myself hoping that someone else did help the guy out. But when Jesus shows up at your door, YOU are called to help Him, not pray for Him to send help. I was the help. And I failed.

So I ask for forgiveness and I move forward, hoping and praying that next time, I can actually BE Jesus to someone in need. Not be so worried about my possessions or my person. Doesn't everything belong to Jesus anyway? Help my fellow man. Actually make a difference in this neighborhood.

After all, if I don't, who will?

God's Horizon

"A nobler want of man is served by nature, namely, the love of Beauty...The simple perception of natural forms is a delight. The influence of the forms and actions in nature, is so needful to man, that, in its lowest functions, it seems to lie on the confines of commodity and beauty. To the body and mind which have been cramped by noxious work or company, nature is medicinal and restores their tone. The tradesman, the attorney comes out of the din and craft of the street, and sees the sky and the woods, and is a man again. In their eternal calm, he finds himself. The health of the eye seems to demand a horizon. We are never tired, as long as we can see far enough." __ Ralph Waldo Emerson, Nature

Sometimes I wonder as I sit looking out my living room window at the tall vertical stripes of the half brick/half tan siding of apartment 2466, where everyone’s blinds are always pulled shut and balconies always remain empty, which overlook the cracked, black and white speckled pavement of the half frozen parking lot, littered with cigarette butts and the few stray flattened pop cans, where the red 1980's Toyota 4Runner truck with the bumper sticker "I'm voting for kids" sits stationary in the same place day after day and the Dodge Shadow rests, with the missing interior and driver's side window stuck three-fourths of the way up, if maybe, just maybe, I'm missing something?

I wonder if somehow my run-on sentence isn't metaphorical for life. If those tall vertical stripes of half brick/half tan siding that block me, day after day, from seeing the sun set or the expanse of the sky , aren't slowly, without my knowing, taking from me more than I ever imagined. If maybe, they are wearing me down, deadening me to life, to passion, to beauty. "We are never tired, as long as we can see far enough." Can I? Can we? Do we have the time in our busy, time consumed world to look for the "horizon"? How easy it is to just get through the day, waking up, going to work, coming home, going to bed, that we lose those things that once gave us passion and a desire to truly live? I ask myself, "When was the last time I woke up refreshed and enthusiastic, not wanting the day to ever end? When was the last time I was so excited about life that my heart felt as if it would break through its tiny caged home? When was the last time I used my giftings or pursued something I love and felt that great surge of passion flow from me?"

I wonder if God looks down and is saddened by how little we expect from Him and all that He has to offer. If He creates a beautiful sunset, or sends the monarch floating by or places the smile on a sleeping baby and then sits on the edge of His seat, full of childlike anticipation, hardly able to contain His excitement, waiting for and desiring us to see and to recognize the beauty and life He has created for us to marvel in?

"The tradesman, the attorney comes out of the din and craft of the street, and sees the sky and the woods, and is a man again. In their eternal calm, he finds himself." Maybe that is the answer, maybe in order to become a man/woman again, in order to find ourselves we must first take the time to step out of our busy, often comfortable worlds and then we must be willing to see. To see beyond the tall brick buildings that block our view and look further to the horizon of the life God has been waiting to show us.

Wear Red on February 2

Tomorrow is National Wear Red Day. No, this is not another made-up holiday! Wearing red is a tool to raise awareness for women's heart disease. Many people, including women and even their doctors, think of heart disease as a man's problem. But it's the leading cause of death for American women! There are lots of great resources on GoRedForWomen.org. Besides learning about heart disease, you can shop for cool gifts that help raise money for women's heart health education. You can even order a free red dress pin, which this cause uses instead of a colored ribbon. Know your numbers! Make healthy choices! Wear red!