In the Morning Darkness

By AbbyA

Waking up before the alarm goes off.  Sensing awake.  Searching out the question of what day it is.  What is in store.  And, where are you Lord?  In the morning dark.  Wanting arms wrapped around me.  You are here.  Are you here?

Are we okay God?  Scanning my recent actions.  Condition of my heart.  Lord, are you disappointed in anything?  Where am I?  This is not the quiet stillness of His presence.  In the morning dark.  This is me sensing that I don’t know if you are there.  Wanting arms wrapped around me.  You are here.  Are you here?

This is not bleeding or desperation.  This is not brokenness or streaming tears.  This is not fear or anxiety.  This is me in the morning darkness wanting Your arms wrapped around me.  You are here.  Are you here?

In the darkness.  I have not been able to answer these questions of where you are or how we are.  Neither have you.  I am seeking your security.  In the darkness.  I am checking to see if we are okay before I reach out to seek you.  You have not sought me first.  It is like I have gone to the kitchen to make coffee but I cannot find the filters.  I can’t begin.  I want you to show yourself to me.  This is me in the morning darkness wanting arms wrapped around me.

I do not know how old I will be in age or spiritual maturity before I learn your purity and faithfulness.  You do not hide.  You do not have better things to do.  You do not cease to know that it is me grasping for you in the morning darkness.  You are there in the lack of stillness and stirring of my heart.  You are there even while I open doors to find you.  The maze that I turn through in the stillness of morning is to lead me to you.  There is insecurity in living without you and security in finding your peacefulness.

Lord, I pray for all of the restless hearts that wake up searching for you.  You called me friend, but sometimes I have to knock on your door.  You chose me first, but sometimes I have to invite you for coffee.  Unlike a friend who will inevitably be late or forget or go through her own tough time.  This is never you.  You always show up on time.  Never forget a date or become preoccupied with your own important matters.  You always have time for me.  Probably more than my little mind can comprehend.

For this cause everyone who is godly shall pray to You in a time when You may be found; Surely in a flood of great waters They shall not come near him.  You are my hiding place; You shall preserve me from trouble; You shall surround me with songs of deliverance.  Psalm 32:6-7.

Full Indeed

By AbbyA

We are eight children, six adults, many bags of little toys, crafts, snacks and a willingness to do some good.  Twelve empty shoeboxes being filled for delivery to children throughout the world.  We run out of shoeboxes before we run out of little toys and crafts.  Two parents drive to the shoe store up the corner to get more boxes.  Sixteen shoeboxes full.  Full indeed.

I am taking the week off with my kids.  Sitting on couch watching C.S. Lewis’ Prince Caspian.  I get up to get my feverish daughter something to eat.  Cleaning up along the way.  Picking up the media package that reminds me each year to fill shoeboxes, and the tears begin to stream down my cheeks.  I am partly sad because of the world we have delivered to our creator.  Partly sad because of my heart’s cry to do more to change our world.  Partly sad that we are so broken as a people.

I am overwhelmed in the kitchen.  Pouring into my kids this morning.  Attempting to pour into the world with the causes we support and volunteer work we do.  Thinking how both are intentional and sacrificial, but miniscule in comparison to the need.  Overwhelmed by the work to be done for His glory.  As His hands and feet.  He meets me there in the kitchen.  The big and small work together for My good.  Calm your aching heart for I have overcome the world.  Part of me stops there.  For I have overcome the world.  I have never understood this remedy to the human struggle.  We are burdened to do His work and should.  But He has already overcome the world.  He has won the battles of this world and taken my human struggles with Him to the cross where He declared victory for me.  I am full indeed.

The burden I am experiencing falls off my shoulders.  He gives me zeal to continue to pour into my kids.  Zeal to continue to pour into the world.  There is not one lost effort to save or love in His name.  There is not one empty or void act when done for His glory.  Small acts are not welcomed in and of themselves.  They are received in cargo containers to be worked together for His good.

In His hands, small acts are yeasted up to rise like dough – – double and triple their original size.  Small acts become full acts when worked in His hands.  The movie ends and my tears continue to fall for the love of my children.  I look into my older boy’s eyes and tell him No matter what happens in your life, do not be afraid because you have Jesus in your heart.  I pause.  And when you get to the very end of your life, do not be afraid.  Take Christ’s hand and let him lead you into eternity.  He stares back and wraps his sweetie-boy arms around me.  Full indeed.

Rich in Many Ways

By AbbyA

Every now and then I like to share with you something that I didn’t conjure up in my thoughts.  Something I didn’t write, but something that has touched me deeply.  Ching Yeung Russell has written a poetic book for children (and adults alike) called Tofu Quilt about growing up poor in a village in China.  I cannot tell you much more because my little boy only allowed me to read the first twenty-five pages to him.  (He wanted to read the rest on his own).  Twenty-five pages is all I needed to be profoundly touched by one of God’s truths pounding through Russell’s words.  Take a look at the excerpt below.

I rest my chin in my hand,

my elbow on the train’s windowsill.

I am sad

and happy at the same time,

like eating a bowl of sweet and sour soup.

Ma breaks the silence

by saying,

“I know you had fun

just by looking at your suntan;

you’re as dark as charcoal.

“Tell me what you liked the most.”

“Dan lai!” I burst out,

“I wish Uncle Five

would have let me eat more than one bowl.

I didn’t have enough.”

“It’s very expensive,” Ma says.

“Why?” I ask.  “It’s just a small bowl.”

“Dan lai is the specialty of the town,” she says.

“And it is only made from one family’s secret recipe.”

“Have you tried it?”  I ask Ma.

“Yes,” she says.  “A long time ago.”

I promise Ma,

“When I grow up,

after I get rich,

I will buy you a bowl of dan lai!”

Ma smiles.

After you start going to school,

you will learn many things.

And you will be rich in many ways.”

The last phrase sliced through my spirit.  I could barely read that line out loud.  Sort of like a particular line of my dad’s eulogy.  My spirit acknowledged in a loud, internal way that I have learned that I have become rich in many ways.  Somewhat like the thousands of grains of sands that JMathis wrote about last week.  Thousands of sands rubbing against one another.  Smoothing edges, providing support.   The value of the experience of being a grain of sand in the Lord’s worthy hands makes you rich in many ways.

As this month pushes toward the third Thursday of November.  Ponder over how God has made you rich in many ways.  His omniscience measures in a manner unlike the world.  While we all are thankful for our livelihood and similar things.  See if you can go deeper for the secret value He has spun in your heart.  I don’t know what you will find.  But I have found through Russell’s poetry that there is great thankfulness in acknowledging that I, through Him, have become rich in many ways.

A Year to Remember, Or Not

By AbbyA

The question that Bindu proposed this week is What if we see our problems in life as the means by which we develop a closer walk with God?  JMathis answers by turning over a new leaf and waking up with joy.  My response to this question brings me to tell about a year of my mom’s life.

In one season, she unexpectedly lost a true love . . . almost lost my brother as a result of a stabbing . . . lost her business, her home and barely had enough to eat . . . suffered while my second brother spent time in jail . . . she lost her dog and then her cat . . .  She spent a lot of time alone.  Often lonely.  Coming to the point where, if not for few ties to planet earth, she was ready to come home to her heavenly space.

Bindu talks about the truth that sorrows and troubles bring us to the throne room of God.  While my mother suffered in her earthly circumstances, she spent most of her time in His throne room.  Much of her loneliness led her to seek the Lord day and night.  She wrote her troubles and God’s response to them in her notebooks.  She let Him feed her rather than rely on all the world failed to offer.  She interceded for her boys who, while different circumstances, suffered deeply.  She interceded for the hungry, lost and homeless.  She made plans to come back and give back.  And, she did just that under the wings of her God.

It is a deep place to be when one acknowledges God’s greater purposes in allowing pain and suffering.  It is yet an even deeper place to be when a tiny seed of thankfulness grows in your heart as a result of pain and suffering.  As your spirit acknowledges the ways of God, you become thankful. To Him.  Not to the loss or the pain or the suffering, but thankful for His wiser plan and greater purposes.  For His blessings in your life.

While His plan is expansive and surpasses our own understanding, it is also strikingly personal.  For there is not a moment that goes by that He ceases to minister to you in your suffering.  My mom knows that.  Any one who has lost big knows that.  I know that.

Sometimes it is A Year to Remember for spiritual growth and a year to forget earthly circumstances.  Somehow I think this is the regular practice of those already in heaven.  The temporal is flip-flopped.  The spiritual reigns and the invisible becomes seen.  The pain and suffering have been burned out by the Refiner’s Fire. What’s left is pure joy and genuine thankfulness. Oh, thank you God for a heart of thankfulness toward you, My Maker.

What are your FAVORITE THINGS?

These are a few of my favorite things:

Smooches on Leila’s smacker, laughing with Quinn, my husband’s jokes, truth from my mom, time with my brothers.

Time for sleeping, home cooked meals, mani/pedi, haircut with color, wax, new shoes or purse.

My friend Nat who asks if I am okay.

Remembering the births of my children.  Remembering the day of my salvation.  Remembering my wedding day.

Forgetting my sin.  Burying my mistakes.  Grace over and over.

Brisk mornings, rainbows, sun on my face.

Promises like you reap what you sow.  Planting gardens that the bugs don’t eat.

God’s truth.  His murals in my mind.  His wisdom on my heart.  His dreams that stay with me for my lifetime.

Time that I have to spend until it runs out.  Every minute of every hour that I can breathe in and breathe out.

His sufficiency and economy and sacrifice on the Cross.

These are a few of my favorite things . . . of which I am very thankful.

The Remedy is Thankfulness

By AbbyA

Always be joyful. Never stop praying. Be thankful in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you who belong to Christ Jesus.  1 Thessalonians 5:16-18. 

Dear Lord,

There is such a thing as a time line of our lives.  There are markers of births and deaths, triumphs and failures, soaring high and crawling low.  Adventures and journeys that make us who we are.  You knew the depth of the joy and of the pain each of us would experience in this life and you still call us to be thankful in everything.

As my dear friend Mike said today, you just can’t stop in the middle of the journey.  No matter how hard or painful the walk.  You are not perfected until you reach the finish line.  Mike shares with me that he doesn’t stop because he wants to be strengthened through his pain and suffering.  He doesn’t stop because he desires to be complete in every way Jesus would have him be complete.  He surrenders his thoughts of giving up to his savior and walks for another day.  Mike is thankful.  I can tell by both the light and tears that flow from his eyes when I talk with my friend.

My dear friend Megan and I, over a year ago, sat on a bench.  Her tears fell as she reached deep to understand where God had her and why.  She took a certain amount of responsibility for the valley and pressed on.  Megan said to me just the other day, AbbyA, isn’t true that our darkest moments are really our blessings?  We agreed that it is in the blinded darkness that you know the true love of your God.  And because of that knowledge, Megan is thankful.  I can tell by both the light and tears that flow from her eyes when I talk with my friend.

My daddy, who I will miss until the day I jump into his arms in heaven, ran the race in pain and suffering for more than six years.  While he must have had many questions for his God, he wrapped his inner hope around a promise that God would never leave or forsake him.  And as I watched him walk home to heaven, I believe that his strong faith grew in leaps and bounds as he saw and tasted that His promises were true. I know my dad was thankful in his life because I could see the spiritual peace that flowed from his inner being.

Lord, I want to thank you because you knew the depth of the joy and of the pain each of us would experience in this life.  You knew that there was only one remedy for both the valleys and mountain tops.  The remedy is thankfulness.  Your remedy is not without substance.  The substance of thankfulness is your love.  Love that never ends; always grows deeper; and always gives hope.

With love,

AbbyA, Bindu and JMathis

Love Never Fails

By AbbyA

Think back to a time when you were really struggling with a particular issue.  Was it trying to lay off the hot and heavy when you were a single twenty-something?  Gosh, maybe you were getting off the partying band wagon and trying to move on to something better.  Maybe you had to leave a relationship or grow up an immature part of yourself.  Just think back to that.   Do you remember thinking to yourself and God, “Lord, when I get through this, what are we going to have to talk about?”  I do.

In reading Bindu’s post, the words Love is not rude stuck out for me.  I was thinking about how I treat my husband sometimes.  In a snappy way, telling him the truth about how I feel without any love packed around it.  Of course, I can make some excuses such as it really only happens when I am tired or sick or whatever.  But Love is not rude.  When I read Bindu’s reminder of what God is made of, I felt quieted by His spirit that reveals truth.  I can be so self-righteous about my feelings.  So snappy, so rude.

Having lost my dad about two years ago, I had the very uncomfortable opportunity to relive in my mind my entire relationship with dad.  There is this one instance when I was frustrated sort of sandwiched between the foyer closet and the front door.  My dad tried to come in the front door holding stuff and I whaled out something very rude that I am too embarrassed to write down.  Do you know how long after my dad died that I pondered in regret over that fat, ugly comment?

Love is not rude.  So, Lord, when we get past the big stuff, there is still more to talk about.  You are always making us holy.  Always showing us through your Word parts of ourself that you want to fill up with your holiness.  Lord, help me to not be rude.  Thank you for forgiving me for my rudeness in the past.  Thank you for accepting my I am sorries, and passing them onto my dad.   Thanks Lord for who you are and for who you believe I can be.  Thank you that Love Never Fails.