I was out grocery shopping this morning and entertaining myself by watching the people around me. One little fellow caught my eye and I couldn’t help but smile at him while at the same time feeling just a wee bit sorry for him. He couldn’t have been more than two years old. His Mommy had him by the hand and kept telling him to ‘Come on’ and ‘Hurry Up’. He was going as fast as his tiny little legs would carry him but he kept getting distracted by all of the activity and bright packages around him. He was absolutely precious and I’m sure if he had been given the time he would have dismantled the end-cap displays around him! His Mommy was trying so hard to be patient and it was obvious she has a full day ahead of her and didn’t have time to dawdle in the grocery store.

I remember my own children at that age and I was much like the mother I saw today. I worked full-time plus kept my own house and did all of my own cooking – fast food was only for very special occasions. It was only on a Sunday afternoon that I would have time to slow down enough to take slow walks around the block or trips to the museums and allow them to explore and just be little kids. Our quality time was limited but I remember how joyous it was to walk hand-in-hand with my small child, their tiny fingers clutching mine while their other hand reached out to touch whatever was close at hand, grasping leaves or dirt or ants or worms or bumblebees. I doubt they even remember those moments but they are etched in my mind – tiny slivers of time when my children looked at the world in wonder while holding onto me for safety.

It is impossible to walk like that with a small child and not see the world through their eyes. When we take the time to slow down and let them set the pace we rediscover a world we left behind in our childhood.

I am making a concerted effort to walk with the Father like a little child holding her Daddy’s hand. As I slow down and reach out to explore the lives around me I am discovering a wonder and awe in His creation that I haven’t noticed in many, many years. I have found such peace in watching a mother bird feed her young and sweet joy playing on the playground with little children. I have seen first hand how a kind word softly spoken can turn the most disgruntled cashier into a smiling friend.

When I take time to notice the people and the world around me I make some amazing discoveries about myself. What I have planned to do with my day is not nearly so important as the saunter through Abba’s day. When my pace slows (or speeds up!) to match the pace of the Father I find divine appointments all around me – appointments with people to encourage them or to be encouraged, and appointments with nature to gaze in speechless awe at the wondrous treat Abba has placed before me.

I have always believed in stopping to smell the roses. Today I encourage each of you to stop and take notice of what is happening around you, right in your own backyard. Surely God has set in place a symphony that you don’t want to miss!

The holiday season is here and the madness has begun.

All around town Christmas decorations are going up and the bleak winter landscape has taken on a festive air. Some shoppers are already in the spirit of the events and are happily purchasing their gifts while exuding joy and contentment.

Other shoppers, not so much so. They are already grumpy and complaining about long lines, inadequate store staffing, and overpriced poorly made merchandise.

Add to all of that the crazies that have taken over the highways and, yes, it is madness indeed.

The stress of the season has already begun to take its toll on unsuspecting and absent-minded people. I call them absent-minded because they have forgotten what it is all about – what this season heralds and why we celebrate with such joy and enthusiasm. We give too much, we eat too much, we laugh too loudly, and we love unconditionally – all because of Jesus.

I won’t get into the debate of whether or not December 25 is Christ’s actual human birthdate, because for me, it doesn’t make any difference. Long ago it was determined that this is the date that we will commemorate His arrival and I don’t have any argument with that. Believers around the world celebrate this date as the birth of Jesus and it is the biggest birthday celebration ever! What makes it so exciting is that even non-believers will be celebrating without even realizing that they are paying homage to the King of Kings. They join in the merriment with gift giving and party-going and family celebrations without ever giving a thought to why or what they are celebrating. That also makes no difference to me. The more, the merrier!

In the midst of all of my decorating and shopping and cookie-baking and present-wrapping and merry-making I am keenly aware of the troubles in the world around us. There will always be troubles until the Lord returns and I focus on praying for those affected rather than on letting the troubles dampen my mood. Today, however, I found myself grieved over a situation and no amount of cookie-baking was going to help.

There have always been and will always be people in the world who are hateful and hurtful to those who are having a good time. Whether they are jealous or simply mean-spirited, I do not know but it can stretch my ability to love my neighbor in entirely new directions.

During this season the enemy is using individuals who profess to be educated and take great pride and pleasure in sharing their knowledge and experiences with others, using social media as their outlet, denigrating the beliefs of Christians around the world and blatantly denouncing our right to celebrate the holiday as we choose. They know best, according to the words they are spouting, and the manner in which they talk down to those who disagree reminds me of many encounters with liberals down through the years. Mind you, they celebrate the holiday season. They don’t have a problem with that. They just have a problem with Christians celebrating Jesus. They cannot abide our spiritual celebration and rebut any Holy Scripture reference with anger and venom.

Let me encourage you in the Lord to set aside the natural reaction to engage such people in verbal combat and instead, let a soft answer turn away wrath. Let the love the Christ permeate your being to such a degree that such people are drawn into your circle of light. During this season, let’s join together to love our neighbors with the same love that Christ love’s us. Remember – even when we were at our most vile, He loved us and called us to Himself. Perhaps this season, He is calling them, too!

Merry Christmas!

I don’t know about you, but I have spent most of my adult life trying to figure out my ‘purpose’. Like so many others, I struggled through numerous classes designed to help identify my ‘gift’, my ‘purpose’, my ‘calling’. I came away more frustrated than ever before and not just a little bit disillusioned by the entire Christian brow-beating about finding our ‘purpose’.

Well, guess what. I have news for you. I have had highs and lows in my life – from an extremely successful career to divorce. Through it all, I never identified my ‘purpose’. What I learned through all of it is that the writer of Ecclesiastes had it right – it is all vanity.

A couple of months back I quit looking for my purpose. It was draining and emotionally exhausting so I decided to leave it alone. After all, I’m getting up there in age and if I haven’t found my purpose by now I’m probably never going to. And wouldn’t you know it. I stopped looking and the Holy Spirit showed up to reveal the true depth of the Holy Scripture and the meaning behind our ‘purpose’.

By His Holy Spirit, God is calling all men unto Himself. Not all will accept the invitation, however, and fewer still will choose to make Him Lord of their life and walk in obedience to His direction. This, then , is our primary purpose: To accept Christ as Savior and make Him Lord of our lives, dwelling in obedience with Him.

What comes next? For some, the primary purpose will be something they struggle with their entire mortal lives, and they won’t be able to take on anything else.   Matthew 11:14 …many are called….

For others, the primary purpose becomes what they live for and these blessed individuals find a deeper meaning in life as they become the chosen ones. Matthew 11:14 ….few are chosen. These darlings of the family have what they have recognized as a true calling from God – He has picked them up and placed a fire in their hearts for one thing and one thing only, and they pursue for the rest of their lives with a passion that is inspiring and enviable. These are the evangelists, the missionaries, the life-long ministers focused on saving souls and up building the Kingdom. You’ll find them in pulpits, in ministries, on the mission field, and anywhere there are souls being saved.

Then there are those who dwell in between. They are sold out for Jesus and will do whatever He wants, whenever He wants it. Their passion is Christ and they don’t seem to have a purpose other than to walk where He tells them to walk, when He tells them to walk; to speak what He tells them to speak when He tells them to speak; to do whatever He tells them to do, when He tells them to do it. These are also chosen ones and their ‘purpose’ is to serve the living Christ as He calls them to serve, whenever He calls them. You won’t find these in pulpits or heading ministries. They are focused on being available to the Living God on a daily basis and won’t be tied down to ministry responsibilities. They are also often invisible to their pastors and other church family members, because what they do is done solely for the Lord and they don’t talk about it or look for any kind of acknowledgement.

So, dear ones, what is your purpose? I can help you with that. YOU are your purpose. I don’t mean in a selfish-it’s-all-about-me way. I mean, God created you unique and He did so intentionally. You are not an accident and your life touches and molds other lives around you. YOUR purpose is to be the best you that you can be by studying the Word of God and building an intimate relationship with Him. Think of your walk with God as an education. You start in kindergarten and then on to elementary things, finally moving on to pre-teen years and deeper foundations, then high school. If you keep going, you will find yourself in graduate school and post-graduate studies. Your walk with the Lord is never finished and He never stops revealing Himself as long as you continue to seek His face.

Do your best to be all you can be in Christ and leave the rest to Him. When He is ready, He will place a call on your heart or lead you into position to be used by Him for His glory and the glory of the Kingdom. There is no greater joy than that, and no greater satisfaction on this earth. And always remember, if He has asked you to do something, then He will equip you and enable you to do it. After all, it is His work, not yours and He never fails.

Write what is in your heart, I heard the Lord whisper. But there is nothing there, Lord, it is empty and black, I replied. He countered with Yes, there is much there. Write what is in your heart. So I reached for my pen and I began to write and as the words poured out I realized the depths that had yet to be explored and were now being exposed.

The heart of a child is full of wonder and love and joy but it is easily broken. Careless words, thoughtless deeds, neglect and abuse steal the joy and replace the wonder with fear. The love, however, remains. Even when the child is marred and scarred for life, still the love remains. Such is the way of a child – though they may be filled with rage and anger and fear over what has happened or is happening to them, still they love.

The heart of a sensitive young girl is filled with hope and plans for the future. Her smiles are bright and her dreams are big as she faces each day fearlessly and confidently. But even the young girl becomes damaged as her peers spew hatred and judgment upon her, making her self-conscious of her appearance and causing her to withdraw into a protective shell. Her dreams of a boyfriend and school dances fade as she buries herself in books and food, trying to escape the vicious words and actions of her peers and family.

The heart of the young woman has begun to hope again after having escaped from the world of school and peer pressure into the working world. She is finding self-esteem in having a job at which she excels and money – earned by her own hands – to spend as she wants without anyone else controlling her decisions. She begins to bloom into womanhood a little later than most because unlike others she was retarded in her emotional growth. Her sensitive nature cost her dearly and she just could not get past the pain and hurt until she escaped the circumstances. Now she is on her own. Now she is free to be herself – to discover who she really is deep inside.

It is all a farce, really. She isn’t interested in finding out who she is but in finding someone who will give her affection and maybe even love. She is quick to fall into the trap lain by self-serving men and too quickly married to someone who doesn’t love her but wants to use her for his own devices. Hope and love which had blossomed briefly are now crushed under the pain of degradation, rejection, and psychological abuse from a bigamist. In her desperation to love and be loved she becomes pregnant, rejoicing in the fact that FINALLY she has someone to love.

The heart of the fully grown woman is wise and slightly hard. Yet even now it holds hope for some semblance of happiness – a taste of normalcy and the possibility of a future. She guards her heart now, not giving it to anyone even though she marries again in the hope that a normal family life can be found for her and her child. Yet again she discovers the agony of abuse, betrayal and rejection. The abuse takes on more physical forms in this relationship. It seems that the abuse has been escalating with each relationship and each time she becomes colder, more distant, more withdrawn into a shell. She has become adept at shallow relationships that do not reveal the true nature of her home life. All hope of normalcy is crushed when her own husband rapes her and then abuses her daughter. She is terrified of him as his drunken rages and terror tactics ensure her compliance and when she discovers he has packed a handgun to take on their ‘vacation’ in the country she realizes that she has nothing to lose. She begins to push and push against the terrorist, almost daring him to act. She refuses him again and finally, in his violent reaction she finds courage to stand against him and all he stands for – leaving him and her hopes of a normal life behind.

The heart of the mature woman is dead. Oh, she has learned to play the game and knows just what noises to make to sound compassionate and loving. She has mastered the art of the phony smile and if anyone sees behind it to the pain buried within they never mention it. She is the life of the party and puts on a face of enjoying her freedom, but deep, deep within she is crying out for someone to love her. She is forty years old and never felt loved. Surely someone out there needs to be loved as much as she does? She prays and waits and waits and prays.

Once again she succumbs to her loneliness and marries someone she is sure is different. In reality he turns out to be every bit the sociopath of her previous mistake with some insanity thrown in for good measure. This one lies so much she doesn’t know when he is telling the truth. He can’t be trusted. Even after all of the years of abuse and misuse she is still naïve enough to think he means what he says when he apologizes and makes an attempt at trying to change. But nothing changes and her dead, cold heart holds only one hope: death. She longs to die. She prays to die. Then she prays he will die. Then she repents and prays he will just leave her alone – forever leave her alone.

Sometime along the way the Lord heard her prayers and began to change the one she wanted to leave. Her heart is still dead but he is becoming less – – – offensive. Slowly he changes until one summer day there seems to be an epiphany of sorts and he is no longer the same man. Somehow great change has occurred but she is still unbelieving. Too many years of abuse, lies, deceit, and broken promises have made her more than a skeptic. So she waits, with her dead heart and no hope, to see what will happen next.

The elderly heart is tired of being dead, tired of waiting for what never comes and reaches out in hope, determined to cling to prayer and fasting until her need is met. Now true change begins. The dead heart is opened and old memories and deep wounds are healed, one by one, as the Lord restores what has been stolen and broken.   She has days where she thinks her heart is still dead but still she clings to the Lord, waiting for His intervention. He begins to replace the bad memories with good memories and the brokenness with joy and laughter. She rests in His presence and soaks in the sunshine of His love and grace, letting waves of mercy heal her wounded soul.

Finally, it comes. The elderly heart, once so dead and lifeless, is now full to overflowing with joy and peace and love which she carries with her at all times. It has been replaced with the heart of a child. Gone is the brokenness. Gone is the fear. Gone is the timidity. Gone is the victim. What remains is wonder and love and joy.

Our years are short and numbered. Sixty years is a long time to live in despair and destruction. It would be easy to fall into blaming and depression over the short time I have left to live in wonder and love and joy. Instead, I have chosen to believe that only God numbers our days and if He wants to, He can give me sixty MORE years to replace those that were stolen from me.

I believe He can do the same for you. My prayer today is that God will restore all of your years the enemy has stolen.

1 Samuel 30: 1-8, 18-19    “Now it happened, when David and his men came to Ziklag, on the third day, that the Amalekites had invaded the South and Ziklag, attacked Ziklag and burned it with fire, and had taken captive the women and those who were there, from small to great; they did not kill anyone, but carried them away and went their way.

So David and his men came to the city, and there it was, burned with fire; and their wives, their sons, and their daughters had been taken captive. Then David and the people who were with him lifted up their voices and wept, unto they had no more power to weep. And David’s two wives … had been taken captive.

Then David was greatly distressed, for the people spoke of stoning him, because the soul of all the people was grieved, every man for his sons and his daughters, but David strengthened himself in the Lord his God.

So David inquired of the Lord, saying, “Shall I pursue this troop? Shall I overtake them?” and He answered him, “Pursue, for you shall surely overtake them and without fail recover all.”

…So David recovered all that the Amalekites had carried away, and David rescued his two wives. And nothing of theirs was lacking, either small or great, sons or daughters, spoil or anything which they had taken from them; David recovered all.”

In the aftermath of a storm comes peace. Sometimes we are greeted with blue skies and sunshine, light breezes and clean, fresh air. Other times the aftermath is less peaceful as we view destruction all around us and hot, stifling air that makes it almost impossible to get a deep breath – almost as though breathing under water.

That’s how it is with me today. I am in the aftermath of a storm and around me I see all the years of destruction this storm wrought in my life. My breathing is shallow and the ache in my heart is real and very deep. This wound is deep and the infection within it was massive. Now, with the scab ripped off the infection is oozing out and I am on the bench, trying to remain calm as the depth of the infection and the stench of the wound make me weak and ill.

As I sat with Father this morning He led me to verses about anger and wooed me with words of love and healing. He wants me to acknowledge the anger – give myself permission to be angry. He wants me to rage and scream and let it all out so that the infection will be washed away but I am too weak and still too much in shock from what has been revealed. I am still surveying the damage all around. The realization that my own wounds caused me to make choices that inflicted the SAME WOUNDS on my children has left me in an almost vegetative state. I cannot change my past but I can confront it and be free from it. BUT HOW DO I HELP MY CHILDREN? I cannot change THEIR past AND I CANNOT CONFRONT IT FOR THEM SO THAT THEY CAN BE FREE!!   O God, help my babies!

Anger. There is so much anger. How could he? We are his children and supposed to be protected by him, not terrorized and abused by him! How could he?

But then I know the answer to the question. He abused because he was abused. He hurt us because he was hurt. He suffered not only the trauma of an abusive childhood but also the trauma of being in the trenches during WWII – at Normandy, on the road to Paris, and into Berlin.

My heart of compassion only hurts for him. I cannot release the anger yet because I am still making excuses for him. I am still giving him the benefit of the doubt and offering forgiveness when none has been requested. I am offering unconditional love in return for betrayal and abuse, terror and neglect. I am still a very sick little puppy.

This is so hard. The tears come unbidden without provocation, it seems. I try to stifle them because it won’t do to cry in public without reason. My pain is real and the hurt so bad I can hardly lift my arms. I am mourning for an entire lifetime lost to abuse.

Today I have been in contact with my sisters but no response yet. Today I have stripped off the mask – no longer willing to be a silent partner to the abuse of our shared past. Perhaps they are still in hiding. Perhaps they are still in denial. It doesn’t matter – I am giving them an open door to be free and I pray they will take it.

Even as I write this I feel the ache in my heart lessening. The truth will, indeed, set you free.

John 8:32  And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.