The Harvest

We get a little bit of autumn here in Florida.

Mostly it's a state of mind.

Pumpkin candles lit, fall decor, and a little more of a breeze.

 

Still, it sets my heart in tune with the reality of harvest time. 

Soon, there will be a harvest moon casting its amber glow upon the mossy oaks that hang low and a solitary hoot owl that makes nighttime that much more enchanting.

And then, there's the food.  The glorious, turkey-ous gravy-ous, pie-ous food!

And, the soporific affects afterward that send us into a loungy, hands on the tum sleepy bliss, like Pooh Bear after a lip smacking indulgence of honey pot sweetness; we are happy and full without a care in the world.

There's something expectant about autumn.

 

Maybe because it's a time of harvest,

a time to reflect on all we have to thank the Lord for,

and a time for hope that fills us and creates a longing for the One who is, who was, and who is to come.

"I am the Alpha and the Omega," says the Lord God, "who is, who was, and who is to come, the Almighty." (Revelation 1:8, ESV)

Raising Arizona

Before my Little Man was old enough for us to have to pay for an extra airline ticket, my husband and I decided it would be fun to visit one of the world's greatest wonders: the Grand Canyon.

We flew into Las Vegas first to visit relatives who we hadn't seen in years and then drove over the Hoover Dam and across the hilly landscape down to Arizona.  

Needless to say, the hilliness of the landscape did not sit well with a Bright Girl's tummy. She proceeded to empty her stomach and of all its contents across the Nevada border and all the way to Arizona.  

Once we were in Arizona, Little Man decided to join in on the fun, and made his mark in our rented SUV. By the time we got lost trying to find our hotel, it was dark, smelly, and loud with two sick children crying. 

Thankfully, we stopped at a little motel with a neon sign blinking bright and a kind manager who offered us some paper towels and directions to the hotel we had paid for.

That night was sleepless in Arizona. Bright Girl would not stop with the emptying of her stomach, and we were getting near ready to take her to the emergency room.

After a heated discussion (okay, an argument), we made up and prayed over her. 

We came all this way to see the Grand Canyon, and we are out of money, out of time, and out of our minds.  Could we please just get a glimpse of your glory, God?  

Bright Girl started to perk up. She drank some water. It stayed down. Hope began to well up inside of me. 

We're gonna see the Grand Canyon! What grace! Thank you, Lord!

We drove past a few hotels and then a short distance away there it was. An endless, cavernous rock, cut out in vibrant hues of reds, oranges, and browns.

This ancient canyon had many stories to tell. 

One came to mind of cataclysmic proportions...  

Cracking and convulsing, the water burst over and under and through the rock. Higher and higher it rose, covering the plains, hills, the highest mountain tops. Deluging all creation, except on the far side of the world, around the area that contained the fertile crescent, the cradle of civilization.  Above it all, one boat floated, keeping the last of humankind and animals safe.

This boat is remembered by all the earliest civilizations and has been kept preserved in the record passed on to Moses in Genesis 6-10. It held one family and two of every kind of animal plus seven pairs of each livestock and plenty of food to last many, many months.

The fact they survived was nothing short of a miracle.



And, here I was, a spectator of this Grand Remembrance of the event that the Lord used to rock the world and make it new again.

It will happen again. But, because of the bow in the sky and an ancient Promise, it will happen a different way. The earth will be made new again. There will be survivors. They are the chosen ones. And, like Noah, they have found grace in the eyes of the Lord (Genesis 6:8, 1 Peter 2:1-12).

"By faith Noah, being warned of God of things not seen as yet, moved with fear, prepared an ark to the saving of his house; by the which he condemned the world, and became heir of the righteousness which is by faith (Hebrews 11:7)."

Tear Tea

Have a seat and relax.  I'd like to have a cup of tear tea with you. 

It's ingredients are simple, but can only be made from a heart that's been broken. 

It tastes bitter at first, but you'll find that it can be soothing and sweet if it has a little bit of the honey of fellowship.

Have you ever cried in exasperation for a child who has meltdown after meltdown? 

How about for the loneliness and isolation of the days when your husband has to work late and all your children are sick? 

What about tears of grief? There are some women (and I am one of them) who have cried buckets of tears for the loss of an infant child, either before or after birth. 

This is a reality that happens more than we are willing to admit. The admittance only brings on more tears, more pain. 

It is no longer for my own grief that the tears come fierce.  The tears come now for other moms, who are on that same path of sorrow that I was destined to take some nine years ago. 

And, so

here I am,

admitting. 

It is healing to admit, for with admittance is an invitation for consolation and for others to hope. 

There is a Light at the end of the tunnel.
 
There is Deliverance from this valley of the shadow of death.
 
Only the Light and the Deliverance don't necessarily mean the pain will end overnight.
 
Sometimes it hurts for a long, long time. 

But, hope means there is a Light shining in the darkness.  There is a Deliverer, and He is Christ.

When I had an early miscarriage, I cried out to the Lord in my pain. And, He showed up, with His perfect peace that "transcends all understanding." 

That same year I became pregnant again and was given the devastating news that the child growing inside my womb had Potter's Syndrome, a condition "incapable with life." That meant, when he was born, unless God decided to intervene, the baby would most certainly die.

Having an early miscarriage was hard, but this seemed unbearably harder.
 
Maybe because I had bonded with my baby. 

I felt his hiccups, his nudges, his wiggles. I had pressed my hand against my protruding belly as he pushed back with ten little toes. I saw the outline of his forehead, nose, and mouth in black and white on the ultrasound screen.
 
And, when he was born, he would die.

It was too much for me to bear. How could I endure it? I did not have the strength to do such a thing.
 
I was at my wit's end, crumpled and broken at the merciful feet of Almighty God.
 
And, my tears were at times, my only relief from the pain. 

My grief was so burdensome, so weighty, that there were few people who could have helped me carry it.

Thankfully, the Lord is good. He gave me wonderful friends, who lifted me up in prayer and met my need for a listening ear and a piping hot dinner when I could barely get out of bed.

He knew my sorrow and provided for me.

Looking back, I couldn't have done it without Him and all the people He sent to help me.

I don't know how anyone could. 

On December 5, 2003, Luke, my fragile, but beautiful baby boy, was born and eight hours later passed on into the hands of God. 

The tears came swift and fierce for many days and then in waves, but with time, their ebb and flow became as gentle and  peaceful as the waters of the Gulf of Mexico.

And, all those tears meant something, they mattered.  Because they all matter to Him, to the One who holds a well of our tears in the palm of His nail marked hand.

"You have kept count of my tossings,
put my tears in your bottle . Are they not written in your book? (Psalm 56: 8, ESV)"

Sweeter Than Honey

Little Bit has not been sleeping well. Yesterday, I found out the reason why. Two pearly white teeth had busted through her swollen gums.

Lately, her fingers have been the teether of choice. One of them suffered a puncture wound, and it didn't take long for her to use the other fingers with less gusto.

Now, a pacified baby is one of the joys at our house. The children love to make her giggle--my Sunshine Girl most of all. The only problem is that they keep bonking heads with one another.

Sunshine Girl plays a game where she gets real close to Little Bit and pulls back quick and somehow that sends them both into boisterous belly laughs.

It never fails that after about the third try, Sunshine bonks heads with Little Bit. Laughs transform into cries, and I come in for the comfort of a mother's hug.
  
Discipline is not my favorite part of parenting, but the occasion arises more than occassionally. It was time that my cuddly, loveable Sunshine learn a little something about personal space. I had been learning some tactics from a book called Raising a Sensory Smart Child. Now, here was the perfect time to try it out.
 
"Imagine everybody has a bubble around them," I explained, "If you get too close to another person you could pop their bubble and sometimes that can hurt, like when you bop heads with your sister."

Holding my arms out straight, I showed her how big my bubble was, then I asked her how big hers was.
 
"Let's try to stay in our bubbles, okay?"

A nod of the head and a rush off to find more fun, indicated the attention span was spent. I hoped she got it.

Everytime since then, when I've seen her head get too close, I say, "bubble," and she pulls back a little. I think she's getting it.

We all need our own personal space, or boundaries, if you will. Especially moms. We need time to chill, to pray, to think about the important things, the beautiful things, the things that bring us joy. 

It's good to take a time-out in our busy lives to retreat to our own bubbles. But, let's not forget to let in the One who gives us everything we need and more.  We don't need a bubble with Him.

"Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with that person, and they with me (Revelation 3:20)."

In fact, many times, Christ is the One who gives us a bubble, or shield, especially in those times when we feel most powerless. He shields us from a mother's worst enemies--fear, depression, and shame.

"Do not be afraid Abram. I am your shield, your very great reward (Genesis 15:1)."

Like Abraham, following the Lord's leading into unknown territory, we can trust in Him when we come to the new places in our lives where we feel lost, alone, and totally out of control. Christ knows exactly where we're at, and He is the One who can calm our anxious hearts. 

It is in these places that the enemy of our soul is the most crafty at trying to impress on us that God is not trustworthy. It takes an extra measure of faith to still cling to the promises of God in His Word.

It helps to know His promises in the first place. That's where Bible study and memorizing key verses and passages becomes crucial, even life saving. Believe me, it is worth the effort.

Depression comes on swift and merciless. It casts its dark shadow over us and threatens to keep us there until we lose all hope that we'll ever see the light of day. I know this because I have been there. But, there is hope, and when we lose sight of it, we need someone to rescue us.

We need Jesus.  

When we look to Jesus, the Word who took on flesh and blood, He offers us His protection, His shield to quench all those fiery darts of falsehood that we are somehow abandoned by God, worthless, or a disappointment.

"As for God, His way is perfect; the Word of the Lord is proven, He is a shield to all who trust in Him (Psalm 18:30)."

True, life is full of disappoinments, but there are days when we feel like we are the biggest disappointment of all. I don't know if you've been there, but sometimes I feel like I want to just crawl under a rock and stay there.

And, that's okay.

God is that Rock. He is our shield. He sings over us, and reminds us that His love is not based on our performance, but on His great, unfailing, love displayed by Christ's sacrifice for our sins on the cross. He will never leave us, never. He will never reject us, not ever. We can trust in Him always.

"You are my hiding place; you will protect me from trouble and surround me with songs of deliverance (Psalm 32:7)."    

The Rise and Fall of The Senator

In 2007, our sprawling family trampled onto the boardwalk and into the thick of the Florida woods of Big Tree Park. We swatted mosquitoes and dodged low-hanging palmetto fronds. At the very end of the trail, towered a wonder to behold—The Senator, one of the oldest Bald Cypress trees in the world.

And, by old I mean B.C. (before the birth of Christ) on a historical timeline . Through the process of coring, a sample of the tree's rings was taken, dating the Senator to be about 3500 years old. Over millenia, the tree grew, adding new rings to its trunk. 

Before Florida became a tourist's paradise and one of the top states people move to, the Seminole Indians used this 160 foot high cypress tree as a landmark to find their way through swamps and endless palmettos and pine trees. They hid from U.S. soldiers who intended to capture and transport them to reservations outside the state. The Seminoles found refuge in the Everglades and eventually were granted six reservations in Florida.   

In the nineteenth century, this cypress became the beloved Senator of Big Tree Park. A devastating hurricane hit Florida in 1925. In the fierce winds, a large portion of the top snapped off, reducing it to a height of 126 feet.

Tragically, on January 16, 2012, the Senator's life was cut short by the careless actions of a young woman who that evening, set it ablaze.  The tree burned from the outside-in, billowing smoke like a chimney.

When I heard the news, my heart sank. A tree of that size and age is not something that can just be replanted. It's gone, along with all it's rings of ancient history. Vanished in a puff of smoke.

Life can be so short. Especially in light of eternity. Will we live by faith or by sight, in our few tree rings of the here and now?

May the short span of our lives be lived in a way pleasing to God, in light of His gloryand grace, for the endless rings of eternity are in His hands. He makes even the smallest grain of faith grow into a mighty tree, displaying His faithfulness for all to see (Isaiah 61:1-4).

"Teach us to number our days that we may gain a heart of wisdom (Psalm 90:12, a prayer of Moses)."