No Words Worthy

The wind is blowing here on my lane. Across the field the tree tops move like they're dancing. Voluminous clouds lounge in the sky. Bright blue...Soft white.

How quickly all this can change. This same atmosphere holds the culprit that causes tragedy and destruction while other times receiving lost balloons and soaring birds. This same sky hangs over flooded cities and still shines bright and beautiful in reflection against water that has caused tremendous destruction. That same wind grabs cities and lays them flat.

These days have been silencing. I have nothing to say.

I am so human and all that is swirling around...from water to winds ....is so much bigger and stronger than I. Guess I am just a little intimidated , sitting fragile in a world that is groaning with powerful, life-altering forces.

but ...there is Someone to talk to about those who sit in the midst of chaos, cry over losses I have never experienced... who brush away rubble and mud to try to find part of the life underneath.

I'm over whelmed and it makes me realize that my words are insignificant in the face of such loss.

My "tornadoes" have been like the wind of a box fan...my "floods" like bathtubs running over...my "tsunamis and earthquakes" like raining on a roller coaster ride. So here is my plea...

Lord have mercy,

Christ have mercy

on us...

Now we wait in faith for the renewal that will come.

Momma's Smile

I sat at my momma's side in church for 15 years. Always in the same pew. I noticed something different about her, she smiled when our pastor spoke. Since that was not the norm, I always wondered. One day I couldn't stand it any longer and I asked, "Momma, why do you smile at Dr. McCall when he is speaking?"

Her answer was classic Mable Thomas.

You see, my mom is a giver. An unselfish, no holds barred, giver. She doesn't have another mode. It is who she is and who you experience when you meet her. If you squelch that in her you would rob her of her joy. The world doesn't always know how to handle generosity of spirit and self. That's not her problem, she'll just keep it up a hundred percent no matter what.

Along with that comes unselfishness and lack of self-consciousness. Natural friendliness and passionate loyalty follow up . Needs met make her happiest.

So what was her answer to my question?

"I feel like he needs to see at least one person smiling at him as he looks out on the congregation." A gift from the heart. An encouraging one, at that.

Here we are at Mother's Day once again. What gift do I receive every time we are together?

Whether she is opening the back door to welcome us in, sitting at her table full of food that she's prepared, cleaning up the kitchen after the fact, holding a great-grand baby just days or moments old, or giving my dad his marching orders....her smile.

So here is her legacy,

"So let each one give as he purposes in his heart,

not grudgingly,

or of necessity,

for God loves a cheerful giver."

2 Corinthians 9:7 NKJV

Distant Thunder

It's raining again. The prognostactors are predicting thunderstorms. The Cumberland River, the river that gulped down Nashville, is once again looming large. There is thunder in the distance. But the robins still sing.

Here on my lane, there is a lazy, kind of still. The rest of the world however is in an uproar.

An evil, wealthy, murdering, fanatic was killed yesterdayby our military and intelligence at it's best. The US streets drew crowds of elated patrons. Just a couple of days ago a prince and a princess were officially married and the throngs of admirers were jubilant. Almost a week ago so many of us were hunkered down in our basements, closets and bathtubs, awaiting the arrival of tornadoes. The throbbing beat of rising tension in the middle east still stays constant in the background.



Gazing out my window, I can't help but think of those that are not jubilant today. Those who did indeed suffer from the weather's worst. Those who have no windows to look from. Those whose material belongings are tattered to shreds and now will be soaked by rain. Some have lost their entire town. Some lost a part of their family. Some will never recover. There are no words for this, just tears. I've been speechless with sorrow. The trail of tornadoes leaves a mark none can erase except with much time. Trees will grow back. Foundations will be rebuilt on. Trailers will be replaced. Businesses will someday reopen. Family pictures will be longed for, any glimpse of the only thing that matters in our lives...those loved and now missed.





The robins continuing to sing. The earth continues to spin on it's axis. There are somethings that are beyond our control, but nothing is beyond God's. That old song goes:


"He's got the whole world in His hands.


He's got the whole wide world in His hands.


He's got the whole world in His hands.


He's got the whole world in His hands."





Happy or devastated, tattered or celebratory, on fire or burnt out,


we are all in His hands. You can count on it. I know I am.

Love Cried Out

Love cried out


from behind


a stone.





Propelled from


midst of


rock,





Upright and


walking


resplendent,





Having stood,


hung,


died.





Now alive!


Salvation assured,


Life set free.





No more,


that old sin


now clean.





HE


holds out hope


and eternity-home.





we must


make


the decision





to receive it....





p palermo, April 24, 2011

What I Survey

Have I gazed upon the Cross today?




Before me, a plaster cross embossed with scrollwork, rubbed rough at it's edges, almost white, almost shining.




There is the cross made of many broken pieces, blue and jagged. Rusted cross, bronze cross..




Another stacked , spikelike nails held together, burnt black, painted over gold...





But...have I looked upon the Cross today?




Golden chains innocently holding a small Italian cross made of blue bits,




Long silver chain, heavy, whose lone decoration, large silver cross, rose covered..




a bracelet, dangles one single cross,




another holds twelve, all designs of different crosses..





But...Have I contempleated the Cross today?




My heart looks wildly at the Calvary Cross, the Cross of all Crosses..the one with a Savior upon it.




My eyes have a hard time keeping their gaze for violence, blood, agony, torture..




Yet fixing my eyes on the Man there, the Savior, the Crucified Lamb....




I can look upon HIM because He is and was and had looked upon me. He saw me as I was, am and will be and He died for me anyway, no holds barred.





HIS sacrifice...the LAMB of GOD who takes away the sins of the world.









How about you, have you turned your face toward the cross today? any day?



Yes, it is hard and long ago, but the beauty still is in the love bled pure over arms of innocence...His crime was love and forgiveness. He is more than an expletive, more than a character...He was more than enough.




Enough forgiveness for us all, no one can contain His love...His grace, His mercy...though on this earth, He was shown none.




When I survey the wonderous cross,


on which the Prince of Glory died,


my richest gain I count but loss


and pour contempt on all my pride.



See from His head, His hands, His feet,


sorrow and love flow mingled down.


Did e're such love and sorrow meet?


Or thorns compose so rich a crown.



Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast


Save in the death of Christ, my king.


All the vain things that charm me most,


I sacrifice them to His blood.



Were the whole realm of nature mine,


That was a present far too small.


Love so amazing , so divine,



Demands my soul, my life, my all.



Isaac Watts, 1707

The Servant King

The evening meal was being served, and the devil had already prompted Judas Iscariot, son of Simon, to betray Jesus. Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under His power, and that He had come from God and was returning to God, so He got up from the meal, took off His outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around His waist. After that, He poured water into a basin and began to wash His disciples feet,...John 13:2-5

I love this passage. It speaks volumes about the Christ I love. He knew His authority given Him by His Father. He knew where He had come from. He knew where He was to return. When I reflect on His way to the cross, His purpose for coming, His sacrificial death, it is difficult to sit and ponder so great a step toward such suffering.

Knowing where we have come from keeps us aware of what formed us to be who we are.
Knowing where we are going, our final destination, spurs us on toward that arrival. Suffering and joy and all that entails come with the journey.

Christ's examples are innumerable, but this one helps me realize that His love for His Father, His obedience and selfless ambition, were coupled with this knowledge.

Do I set my face toward my ultimate destination, my heavenly home? Do I let that fact overshadow all others? If so, I should be quite at home taking up the towel, starting my journey, "taking the very nature of a servant." My prayer is that I will fill my basin with living water and begin.

The Breeze is Blowing

Knew this was a special day, a glimpse of the wren dressing her nest with baby's breath from my deck. The titmouse fumbling for twigs through the dead thyme, still hanging from the green clay pot. Signs of preparation for birth all around. Nesting. It's a sure sign of spring.

Two weeks ago, I thought I knew spring, but then ignoring the weather, I awoke to all my wisteria buds having died in the 31 degree night air. That broke my heart. I've grieved over it and grieved some more. It does not bring them back to life. But I must go on. So today, with blue painting the sky, clouds forming with no threat intended, breeze blowing hair and gently cooling the sun's strong rays, I found it was time to be proactive. The pine straw needed to be pulled back to give the beds a time of warming, exposing any new growth I may have missed. The rain induced creek exposes new rocks. I love to look over the offering, fresh revelations of earths inner self. Today I spied something sparkling and muddied my shoes to retrieve it. A six inch piece, fossilized wasp nest covered in crystals the size of sea salt. Taking it to it's new home, It finds itself now a part of my adultified rock collection masquerading as a flower bed border. Having started the rock hunt, I find a large one I can actually carry and place it outside the fence where Rosey, the Big Red, the one with paws outstretched under the fence. The one who has dug up all of one bed and carried a blackberry bush, fresh from the fence, now uprooted and in a million pieces. That Rosey tries to quickly remove any clay I dig up as if she has a project that might require it. All of this attention done from the inside of the fence where I am out. The activity is witnessed by the white fluff dog, Callie, whose goal is to bark continuously while the rest of the world is having a peaceful day. The clay-grabber and the incessant barker...my companions as I enjoy all of the glories of spring and it's promise of more and more of the same...for me and for them. Gong inside, looking out my window, I spy one lone wisteria blossom dangling like an earring on the arbor. It's a fine sight. One beauty. One survivor. What a way to start a season. Joy all around. Let the heavens rejoice, and let the earth be glad;.... Let the field be joyful, and all that is in it. Then all the trees of the woods will rejoice before the Lord. For He is coming.... Psalm 96:11a-13a