The Work

"But now O Lord, thou ART our father; we ARE the clay, and thou our potter; and we all are the work of thy hand." -Isaiah 64:8

 

Humility is more than just recognizing your weakness, your faults and your inadequate offerings; it is also seeing your divine potential in His hands.

They both can be a little scary.

It was SO worth it

I needed that.

Scrunched in a pew with family and friends, the musical sound of praise bigger than the room and filling every part of me.

I needed that.

After getting dressed up again on a Sunday evening to sit in church for two hours, I thanked my kids for sticking with me and their reply was, "It was worth it."

I needed that.

Bingham falling asleep on my lap as choir after choir sang the new and the familiar.

I needed that.

Reminders of the power that comes from those who willing mourn with those who mourn and comfort those who stand in need of comfort.

I needed that.

Completely carried away by "O Holy Night".

I needed that.

Continuing Transformation

I remember sitting on my couch, mind racing; wanting to giggle but managing to suppress because of the seriousness of her tone. Did she really just ask me if I had been saved?

Unrealized, the transformation had begun. With each conversation...and there were many....we learned more about each other, our beliefs and our God. There had to have been some chuckling going on in heaven, putting a God fearing Baptist right next door to a confidently, complacent Mormon; both so alone, now dependent on each other, both believing they had the whole truth, or at least the faith to make up for the questions. Thinking back I can almost hear the rumbling laughter.

In the beginning of our friendship, all I could see was this wonderful missionary opportunity, so of course I found it a little funny that she was worried about my salvation. As life happens, and it always does, I learned things from her I didn't know that I didn't know. Like what it really means to daily walk with Him, not to just meet casually at the end of day. Don't get me wrong, I don't think I've ever taken lightly my relationship with Christ, but I had never seen it so all consuming as it is in her life, and it began to rub off on me. It made me dig deeper in my studies, linger longer in prayer, and ultimately to be still and know.

It wasn't all perfect, frustration and dark prideful moments snuck in...casting shadows of doubt on truth; but not for long, because light always overcomes darkness as His glory became our only goal....you see, friendships that begin before life in this body don't go down easily.

The lessons learned in this short season of my life are too many to cover right now. In the end....well, I know it's not the end, but as we parted.....me still completely Mormon and she faithfully Baptist, I was consumed with gratitude for the new awareness I had gained of familiar truth; looking forward as I look upward to this continuing transformation.

Wordfull Wednesday @ Chocolateonmycranium

Trek was fun, I knew it would be, why else would so many youth continue past the cringe of tennis shoes and a skirt just to experience this adventure? Maybe it also had something to do with the hunger. Not the life stealing, 4 ounces of flour a day kind of hunger the pioneers experienced, but just as real. Pres. Mcconkie hit it on the head when he said these youth are hungry for spiritual knowledge. Some of them have been living on so much less than 4 ounces a day that they are willing to "lick the empty flour sacks" just to get a taste. On this trip there were plenty of snacks to be had, and for those who came prepared they left with tummys full and future provisions. I just feel honored to have witnessed it.

I have to admit that I was adequately fed also, some I'm still chewing on. To be in a place that felt so alive with the faithful who died there was more powerful than I expected. While we were at Martin's Cove, the weather was beautiful. It has been a very wet spring and everything was lush and green, completely oppisite to what the pioneers must have experienced, except for the solid mass of rock that sheltered the cove on the east, and the wind....not the freezing, biting wind that brought that early winter in 1856, but the sound of it as it blew over the cove seemed to carry so much more than fresh spring air. Several times it stopped me in my tracks, listening for what I thought I had heard. Then, at the Willie Handcart Memorial site, as I pulled the cart with just my girls up the hill and passed between the men with their hats off and heads bowed, I felt physical pressure all around me, like every woman who has been left to pull on their own was there. The honor was for them, and I was just a decorative whitness standing proxy, amazed by their courage to do what had to be done. These experiences would have been enough but mixed in with all the history of faith and perserverence there was still time for my own questions to be answered as I felt His peace "distil upon (my) soul as the dews from heaven."

Of course I was snapping photos all along, these are just a few....I hope the music doesn't feel irreverent, considering the quarter mile swamp littered with cow pies we trekked through it seemed appropiriate.

Make a Smilebox slideshow

Distraction Debunked....Can You Feel It?

A little here and a little there; starting everything and finishing nothing.

Distraction

Days filled with so many good things I hardly noticed I was missing the better part until I found my knees...

...late,

..after my kids had found sleep. Familiar words come without thinking but feel foreign to my soul. How long had I been saying the words without the stillness, the willingness to listen; to search Him out. Traveling, schedules left at home, I had forgotten how much I need more than just to acknowledge Him. I miss His voice. Sleep wins again with thoughts and promises for tomorrow.

Promises still unfulfilled a week later. Home but unsettled. Behind and undone. Distraction moves to digression as I start to hide from the chaos in the comfort of the random chores, disguised as indispensable.

On my knees again, ashamed of the time lost. Still feeling too distracted to focus and feel His love but aware enough to follow His gentle nudge; back to the beginning.

Morning is disapearing fast when I finally open His book and read. Letting my eyes tumble over the familiar paths, pausing and pondering new meaning. I smile.....almost giddy to find Him so easily......why had I made it so hard?



Stacks of the unfinished lie everywhere, reflective of His imperfect, rebellious daughter, but panic is gone because I have enough....for today.

We feel and so we are....who were you this week?

Things are gettin' better

Saturday was the annual meeting for water shareholders. I love this meeting. Farmers, ranchers, cowboys, and many hopefuls gather together in the grade school gym. I was drawn in by the variety of hats; each a picture of the character underneath. All brought together for one need.

Water.

The meeting was brought to order and we listened to hope plans; expansion, increasing rights and perfecting flow. Superintendent got up, tall and lanky, topped with a well kept, wide brimmed cowboy hat. He told of all the work that's been done, proud of what was accomplished. Then he switched to technical jargon, acre feet of water and projected moisture extraction...how much we need verses how much we have.

A deep voice from under a dusty ball cap interrupted with what we are all wondering, "When can we irrigate?"

"No irrigation this year," as he slightly lowered his eyes behind his wide brimmed hat.

Silence.

Eyes showed again, accompanied by a grin..."but things are gettin' better"

Soft chuckle through the crowd.

New hat asked, "So you mean we'll get water?"

"As of right now...no, but things are gettin' better."



I couldn't help grinning. This man, one who had lived with water's inconsistency his whole life, stood in front of us all, showing faith, while asking for faith; in a place where it couldn't be vocalized but was desperately needed. It's impossible to live off the land without water, to bring production, to sustain, but water can never be counted on.

Yet there we all were.

Faith wasn't written on the agenda but it was there all the same, right next to the proposed budget. It was also between weed management and government grants, then again just after nominations and reconstruction plans.

When surviving on the undependable, it is as natural as turning on the pump.

Rest for the weary...part II

The alarm goes off and I jump to quiet it before it wakes the kids....two of which are snuggled in beside me. It was a rough night with colds and bad dreams, resulting in my tired body contorted around haphazard arms and legs. My husband crawls out of bed to get ready for work, and I relax into the extra space only to be joined by a third child climbing up and worming down into the warm covers, sleeping the whole time. I look over at their peaceful faces, thankful they found rest.

I pray gratitude for surviving the night; I plead for strength to use the day; I feel His comfort as I slip from betwixt slumbering babes and continue on my knees.

In the distance I hear the starting pistol fire as I schooch my way back into bed. The sun rises on our slumber.

Run and not be weary...part I

The alarm goes off and I jump to quiet it before it wakes my kids. I stumble out of bed and into my running shoes. I pull on a sweatshirt and hat and slip outside into the darkness. I tighten up against the cold and move decidedly as my body slowly warms despite the cold air filling my lungs. As my steps quicken, my eyes rise from the road and settle on the diminutive light trying to reach across the fields.


I pray gratitude for the newness and opportunities of the day; I plead for guidance and awareness; I feel His peace and clarity.


My breath runs deep and steady, clearing out the clutter of stress and indecision. Faster, harder, distancing myself from the sluggish jog. I turn up the lane with a clear head, full of energy and ready for my favorite race of all.

Know ye not that they which run in a race run all, but one receiveth
the prize? So run, that ye may obtain.~1Corinthians 9:24

Chocolate On My Crainium ~Wordfull Wednesdays~Love of self

..and then there was Light

I have never enjoyed that part of the drive, coming up over the desolate hill only to view the prison. It is modern and well kept, but the stark walls and towers laced together with rolls and rolls of barbed wire always make me shiver.

This morning as I crested the hill, I sucked in my breath with awe. The prison was drenched in deep sunrise hues. The early rays catching the lengths of wire and increasing their brightness as they scattered their light on the gray walls. Instantly I fell in to an incredulous conversation with God.

"Really?" I said, and without waiting for an answer, I continued, "Beauty, here?"

I slowed and looked again, this time listening as He whispered, "Imagine what I can do with you."

Hearken and listen to the voice of him who is from all eternity to all eternity, the Great I Am, even Jesus Christ—
The light and the life of the world; a light which shineth in darkness and the darkness comprehendeth it not; ~D&C 39:1-2

This scripture keeps finding it's way to me...

Likewise the Spirit also helpeth our infirmities: for we know not what we should pray for as we ought: but the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered. (Romans 8:26)

...comfort for all that is lost and confused.

Undeserved Offering

There they were, standing at my door, with fresh eggs as an offering. An offering that I should be making to them, yet there they were. Her eyes still looked like they had been crying, and it was his second visit in the last hour.
My two oldest had planned a bike ride to celebrate the freedom of Christmas break. They hurried with their breakfast and chores, grabbed their helmets and took off. Unknown to me, our dog, with her highly developed talent for jumping our back fence, went with them. They had only been gone a short time when I heard the oldest crying as she came running through the door.

"Nala, she got a chicken...we tried to stop her...they were yelling and screaming...Mom, hurry!"

I went out in the yard to find our dog trotting up with our neighbor's prize rooster in her mouth. I yelled at the dog and she was surprised enough to drop her trophy. I tied her up and went to the rooster. This wasn't the first time for our dog, and last time the chicken had died. Just as I finished inspecting the rooster, my neighbor drove up in his truck. He lifted my daughter's bike from the back as I approached with the rooster in my arms. He had left his wife crying...for the rooster had a name, and had come to collect his bird.

I apologized again...it sounded so weak. He asked if my kids were ok as he looked over his bird, then he was gone.

How could I make it up to them...make wrongs right. I had already offered to pay, but was refused. Bread....goodies wrapped in pretty paper....nothing seemed to express how guilty I felt.

Then came the knock on my door and there they stood, on my front porch with fresh laid eggs...mending what I could not, and offering the very things I had threatened.

These eggs, their kindness, have been in my thoughts all week. I remember with shame my own unforgiving anger. I say remember, but truthfully it still lingers in my heart as I write. I pray, as I battle within...I pray for the strength and peace to offer again, what has been threatened.

"You got me...right?"

I was wronged, and it hurt. Without a doubt I was right, no one could contend otherwise. I feel justified in that, but my heart grows hard. I just do the right things, in the place I can control, and close off my soul to those that would do it harm. Deflect the attacks, and my heart grows hard.

It doesn't take long, but much has been wasted. Opportunities lie scattered at my feet, unable to penetrate my justification. What have I done? Oh, what I have missed.

But how can He expect me to continue with an open heart...bare to oncoming fire? And how do I even find my heart, hidden under such rationalized defenses?

Therefore, whosoever repenteth, and hardeneth not his heart, he shall have claim on mercy through mine Only Begotten Son, unto a remission of his sins; and these shall enter into my rest.

I had been claiming mercy for myself all along, with no validity. I breathe, and soften...humbling, opening, light seeping through. His light...His mercy.

And then the attack, (sure to happen, as the only change has been inside) knowing it will hurt, but knowing it is His way, I lay open. Fear looming, offering it's inflexible security...I pray, "You got me, right?"

Instant peace floods through my tense heart...filling in the gaps and giving strength. I offer mercy, not my own...it isn't mine to give or withhold...but His mercy, I soften and open...and it flows through me. I am safe in His rest.

Not only does He make up what is lacking in myself...but He fills my needs when left lacking by others. A heart strong and soft...ever willing.

Fumbling Around in the Dark

"Mom! I'm scared!" I'm out of bed before he finishes his plea. The house sleeps through his panic and I catch him as he comes barging down the hall. I steer him back to his covers and I lie down beside until I hear his breath come slow and even. He wakes up again calling for me..."I'm right here," I say softly. His response is questioning, "I can't see you." Still scared he fumbles around until his hand finds my face. What feels awkward seems to comfort and he sleeps again with fingers across my forehead. I offer up a groggy prayer that gets lost on my way to slumber.

...and so it goes on...more nights up and down, more tired frustration, more fumbling around in the dark, and prayer....believing in truth that can't be seen.