Just because it makes me smile...
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
blurry
I see little beyond than what is today. Sure I have my plans, my meetings, my Sunday morning. I have got some stuff going on. God can totally flip my world in one second, within minutes He changed the plans for the rest of “my” year. Not to be morbid but I could die this very minute. I have little control over this life. He does give me a choice though. He gives me a lot of choices.
He gives me the choice to obey His commands, do I follow? Well yeah I want to. I really want to follow Him. With my life.
I am overwhelmed though.
I cannot see beyond today, beyond this minute. Do I let go of my worry, if we put a name to it I suppose that is what it is. Worry. Do I let go? Yeah, I want to cause it is sin. “Do not worry”
He makes the flowers more beautiful than I could ever dress and I worry about what is going on my back.
He sustains the life of a fly and I am worried about the life that is so called mine.
I do not have to worry, cause guess what, it is not about me. None of it.
It puts a big knot in my throat thinking about this life. So so so much world in so much hurt. And little ole Liz just putterin’ around cannot decide what to do with herself.
Jesus said the greatest commandment after loving Him was to love your neighbor.
Glenn Kaiser once said, “The most that you love the least of these is the most you love Jesus.”
Is my loving of those I dislike the most a portrait of my love for Jesus?
Do I show Jesus my love for Him in the way that I am loving others?
Nothing is more fulfilling to me than to a life full of Christ’s love. That is my hope, Christ.
I do not know if this song is about God or Jesus but the words seem to fit how He found me.
He gives me the choice to obey His commands, do I follow? Well yeah I want to. I really want to follow Him. With my life.
I am overwhelmed though.
I cannot see beyond today, beyond this minute. Do I let go of my worry, if we put a name to it I suppose that is what it is. Worry. Do I let go? Yeah, I want to cause it is sin. “Do not worry”
He makes the flowers more beautiful than I could ever dress and I worry about what is going on my back.
He sustains the life of a fly and I am worried about the life that is so called mine.
I do not have to worry, cause guess what, it is not about me. None of it.
It puts a big knot in my throat thinking about this life. So so so much world in so much hurt. And little ole Liz just putterin’ around cannot decide what to do with herself.
Jesus said the greatest commandment after loving Him was to love your neighbor.
Glenn Kaiser once said, “The most that you love the least of these is the most you love Jesus.”
Is my loving of those I dislike the most a portrait of my love for Jesus?
Do I show Jesus my love for Him in the way that I am loving others?
Nothing is more fulfilling to me than to a life full of Christ’s love. That is my hope, Christ.
I do not know if this song is about God or Jesus but the words seem to fit how He found me.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Monday, July 12, 2010
Flung into...
Memories seem to have a profound effect on people. They do on me. Some memories bring tears of joy, others bring tears of pain. I guess you can say I am a crier. Movies have brought me to tears, a word of encouragement, a photograph, a song, a friend’s face… all these things have evoked tears from my eyes but memories seem to be a theme lately in my life.
I went to my grandmother’s house for the second time after her death, the first time in almost seven months. As my mom and I drove to the house she asked me if I would be okay, I responded with a definite, dare I say assured “yes.” Of course I would be okay, I was strong. I had dealt with her death in a healthy way. I was assured…
Assured of where she is now…
Assured that all would be well as I stepped into the house, that the memories would not come, that because she would not be present no tears would come…
Not so assured, the memories came. I attempted to hold it back. “Do not look around yourself,” I told myself. “Do not think about it.”
My grandma had the perfect kitchen. The window above the kitchen sink overlooked her back yard and a wonderful deck where we would at times enjoy a meal. The window would open up, opened so we could yell out to those rough housing in the pool, or pass out a bowl of watermelon. The image of her squishy vein covered hand at the end of which were her well-self- manicured nails, she pushes open the window. Bam it came. The tears. Don’t walk through the kitchen.
I walk into the back room her bedroom, curled up on the bed I let it come, let it flow. Though, it did not all come. I look out the blind laden window, remembering the time sitting in that window peeking through the blinds to see my grandmother picking a switch off the tree to spank me because, yes you guessed it… I was a kid, imperfect, yes I know hard to imagine. Sometimes I would peek through the blinds hoping mom would get there sooner, why? Why did I ever think like that? I cannot even smell her anymore in that house, even in her room. It is all to clean.
Every part of that house, every little thing, yes it is just things, every little thing she left behind holds a memory. My mom lived in that house for fourteen years, my brother, sisters and I practically grew up there. That house, my grandma, were both constant in my life. The house is still here on this earth but it now, well almost, belongs to another family, no longer a constant. My grandma is no longer on this earth, she though, her actions, her words, her life, her love, will remain. Although she is now with her Father in heaven, her love continues on through her children, through her grandchildren, her church, her friends, every person she ever touched. God’s love flowed through this woman. She at times felt her inadequacy almost empower her but Jesus always conquered.
Her life exemplified Christ. Not all the time but she strived to seek her Savior’s face and to love others.
The little things that people do will have great effect on our lives. I could care less if the sweater I was wearing right now was my grandma’s but it is a comfort to me that I know who wore this and she was a great woman.
Memories are good so is the memorabilia but… look beyond that.
I should be pouring into people’s lives love and grace. This life is very short, very short. Like a grain of sand. I do not have much time to sit around consuming stuff but I should have time to love. Oh man, to love so much.
I should probably be doing more of that.
I went to my grandmother’s house for the second time after her death, the first time in almost seven months. As my mom and I drove to the house she asked me if I would be okay, I responded with a definite, dare I say assured “yes.” Of course I would be okay, I was strong. I had dealt with her death in a healthy way. I was assured…
Assured of where she is now…
Assured that all would be well as I stepped into the house, that the memories would not come, that because she would not be present no tears would come…
Not so assured, the memories came. I attempted to hold it back. “Do not look around yourself,” I told myself. “Do not think about it.”
My grandma had the perfect kitchen. The window above the kitchen sink overlooked her back yard and a wonderful deck where we would at times enjoy a meal. The window would open up, opened so we could yell out to those rough housing in the pool, or pass out a bowl of watermelon. The image of her squishy vein covered hand at the end of which were her well-self- manicured nails, she pushes open the window. Bam it came. The tears. Don’t walk through the kitchen.
I walk into the back room her bedroom, curled up on the bed I let it come, let it flow. Though, it did not all come. I look out the blind laden window, remembering the time sitting in that window peeking through the blinds to see my grandmother picking a switch off the tree to spank me because, yes you guessed it… I was a kid, imperfect, yes I know hard to imagine. Sometimes I would peek through the blinds hoping mom would get there sooner, why? Why did I ever think like that? I cannot even smell her anymore in that house, even in her room. It is all to clean.
Every part of that house, every little thing, yes it is just things, every little thing she left behind holds a memory. My mom lived in that house for fourteen years, my brother, sisters and I practically grew up there. That house, my grandma, were both constant in my life. The house is still here on this earth but it now, well almost, belongs to another family, no longer a constant. My grandma is no longer on this earth, she though, her actions, her words, her life, her love, will remain. Although she is now with her Father in heaven, her love continues on through her children, through her grandchildren, her church, her friends, every person she ever touched. God’s love flowed through this woman. She at times felt her inadequacy almost empower her but Jesus always conquered.
Her life exemplified Christ. Not all the time but she strived to seek her Savior’s face and to love others.
The little things that people do will have great effect on our lives. I could care less if the sweater I was wearing right now was my grandma’s but it is a comfort to me that I know who wore this and she was a great woman.
Memories are good so is the memorabilia but… look beyond that.
I should be pouring into people’s lives love and grace. This life is very short, very short. Like a grain of sand. I do not have much time to sit around consuming stuff but I should have time to love. Oh man, to love so much.
I should probably be doing more of that.
Thanks
This blog has been an outlet for me to share my exploding mind since I have been home from Capernwray. At Capernwray I always had someone to lay these thoughts on, someone to listen to my crazy. The past couple of weeks I have been aching to grow and continue to learn. Well, friends from England still are having their effect on me, with all their wisdom and insight reaching across the ocean and land to me. Thank you. Thank you for your love and your words of encouragement to continue in the light. You are the best of friends.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)