Come to Me

One of my favorite moments of the day is when my almost-two-year-old runs into my bedroom, fresh from waking up, a huge smile on his face, exclaiming,

"Ma-Nee!"

Pure joy!  Raw excitement.  Nothing but love, love, love.

I imagine . . . what would it be like if we woke up like that every morning?

Our eyes open, still a bit groggy, but full of love, love, love . . . and we exclaim,

"Daddy!"

Nothing more.  Just a joy-filled, rich and pure exclamation of love for God.

Would our day be different?  Would our lives be richer?  Would it be . . .

Pure joy!

Choose Life

"Listen carefully.  I'm giving you a choice: life or death."  --Jeremiah 21:8, The Message


I watch my two boys jump and giggle and play -- clad in pajamas and joyful from a full night's sleep. I lie sleepily in bed, with a genuine smile on my face . . . perfectly content to have two boys climbing, clamoring, and poking me.  When I see them, I see life.

Maybe it's impossible for small children to choose anything but life.

But what about us?  In our daily choices . . . our everyday moments . . . do we choose life or death?

For me, choosing life is choosing to forgive . . . choosing to serve . . . stretching my arms out to receive God's goodness.

It is about continuing this experiment -- letting God direct my day instead of my many to-do lists.  It's about listening for the whisper . . . perceiving the nudge . . . to take a morning walk or an afternoon nap or write a few thank you notes or play a silly game or work on a baby book or sweep the floor.

Perhaps the nudge will lead me to something unexpected . . . something unplanned . . . something I didn't give as much importance to . . .

. . . but something beautiful.

To Life.

Be Watered

When a plant is being watered it has no choice whether to be watered or not.  It just is.

So the phrase, "be watered" is a fascinating one to me.

When I hear God calling me to "Be Watered" it makes it seem like I have a choice in the matter.  I can either refuse the water or accept it with wide open leaves.

Though Jeremiah passes a message from God of white-hot anger to the chosen people, there are moments of grace -- moments of the gift of God's goodness:

"Like trees replanted in Eden -- putting down roots near the river [of Life!] . . . never a worry . . . serene and calm through droughts . . . bearing fresh fruit."  Jeremiah 17:7-8

I can go about my day not noticing the dew . . . the wetness . . . the rain . . . the water from God.

Or I can go about my day with my branches reaching high -- arms outstretched -- thirsty for this Water of Life.  I can Be Watered.

Never a worry.  Serene and calm.  Bearing fresh fruit.

What a delight!


"Be Watered," I hear the whisper of God, "You are Mine."

You Are Mine

I've been trying an experiment -- to let go of some of my lists.

I am a list person. I thrive on them.

But I've been wondering -- are my lists an act of function, or an act of control?

The exercise has been wonderful -- freeing. Perhaps even enlightening.

I'm letting God direct my day -- leading me from one task to another . . . from rest to projects to reading stories or playing with my boys . . . to going outside or working on something quite unexpected.

Though God's anger against his people is white hot and he's ready to send them off into exile -- he says of his people, "I haven't lost track of a single one of them." (Jeremiah 16:17)

"And guess what daughter?" he says to me,

"I haven't lost track of you either."

Though I think I may fall apart without my lists and without my sense of control, the fact is, I won't.

There is joy in giving it up . . .

Joy in hearing God say, "Elizabeth, you are mine."

The Valley

Faith is not just about following Jesus in the big, exciting moments.

It's about following Jesus in the valley . . . the ordinary . . . the day-lies . . .

It's about serving God and family when I clean the bathroom every Monday morning; vacuum the carpets on Tuesday, mop the kitchen on Wednesdays, sweep the hallway on Thursdays . . .

It's about serving God and family when I do the laundry -- repetition in fabric and water and soap. Turn the dial, pull them out, up the stairs, down the stairs, fold, put away. It's a gift to have a family to care for. It's a gift to have small children who get clothes and towels and sheets dirty . . . throw up, wet nights, blow-out diapers, chocolate ice cream, a box of sand.

Monday: towels, Tuesday: boys' clothes, Wednesday: bedding and kitchen towels, Thursday: our clothes.

The schedule helps the valley to keep its rhythm -- like the rising and setting of the sun; the circle of the seasons.

"The batterings always come in commonplace ways and through commonplace people . . . the little "I am" always sulks when God says do." --Oswald Chambers

I guess the ordinary -- the valley -- can be tedious or beautiful.

I choose beauty.

At least for today.

Obey Me

I have been reading Eugene Peterson's The Message for over a year now.

Brilliant.

It's the Bible written in today's vernacular.

. . . a comfort . . . a challenge . . . a fountain of life on a daily basis.

I'm in the midst of Jeremiah and I'm struck by God's white hot anger. So angry. And yet so patient with a people who forget, ignore, and turn the other way. I think I would have got tired of them long ago.

But I also remember I'm one of those forgetful, turned-the-other-way people.

Today God says to me, "Obey Me."

And I answer, "Lead me in your way."

All Together Now

What does it mean when everything is going smoothly and you feel you have it all together?

Disaster will soon strike? Your mood will fall? Something will crash? Perhaps a trip to the emergency room?

Something . . .

Anything . . .

Or could I possibly be optimistic enough to believe that all's well that is well.

Is it luck?

or blessing?

a strange roll of the dice?

favoritism?

my optimistic mind set?

I guess other people may not describe a house in this state of mess as "having it all together".

But I've come to chose my togetherness.

So, I may not be able to walk across the living room floo

r without seriously injuring a foot; half my head of hair is tangly-entwined in the carpet; I'm currently surrounded by piles that reach my elbows.

But I sewed a Halloween costume, planned a birthday party, get my pictures on my picasa site every month, remember baptismal birthdays, mail family pictures to my grandmas every month, exercise at least five days a week, sleep in, have tea parties, and waste time on facebook.

And that is my definition of having it all together. Being able to do the things I love to do; keep on top of the things that I deem unavoidable (paying bills), and smile and nod at the things that others may shake their head at, but I've come to believe doesn't make or break my day.

So maybe having it all together just means I'm ready for the next challenge.

Or maybe I just need to have more tea parties.