The Silver Mist

August came gently, with cooler evenings and mornings to balance the hot afternoons.  My longing for Autumn began to grow into an ache as a few leaves turned bright red in the tops of young trees in our yard.  Vibrant and teasing of what is to come.  (And unusually early!)

The busy of the school year looms ahead and I have just had the hardest time getting motivated to order the books and fill out the planners.  Maybe it is because we moved in the middle of last year and I’m feeling a bit rebellious?  This slow summer was such good medicine.

Everybody is starting school next week.  But not us.  We are traveling to visit grandparents and we “may” start when we get home.  I’m just loving these long days with my kids and hours outdoors by the pool so much.  I don’t want them to end!

All the crazy starts Labor Day week.  Maybe I’ll just put it all off until then because I can.

Anyway, this morning I awakened at dawn and noticed a marked difference in the light steaming through our bedroom window.  I parted the curtains and smiled at what I saw:

The silver mist giving the trees a soft focus, hiding the distant hills.  Birds chatting happily in the morning cool as they nibbled and fussed at the feeders.  The sun shining gently, filtered by earth-clouds and not hot.  Not yet.

I opened the windows of my office as soon as I stepped in, relishing the breeze as I lit the peach-scented candle.  A line from a song sang through my spirit, one of my favorites by Andrew Peterson

I saw the sower in the silver mist and he was calling me home.

The song, “The Dark Before the Dawn,” spoke softly to my heart.  The lyrics filled my mind with imagery.  Just read them…then click on this link to listen.

I’ve been waiting for the sun
To come blazing up out of the night like a bullet from a gun
Till every shadow is scattered, every dragon’s on the run
Oh, I believe, I believe that the light is gonna come
And this is the dark, this is the dark before the dawn
I’ve been waiting for some peace
To come raining down out of the heavens on these war-torn fields
All creation is aching for the sons of God to be revealed
Oh, I believe, I believe that the victory is sealed
The serpent struck but it was crushed beneath His heel
Oh, I know the wind can bring the lightning
Oh, I know the lightning brings the rain
Oh, I know the storm can be so frightening
But that same wind is gonna blow that storm away
Blow that storm away
Lord, I’m waiting for a change
I’m waiting for the changeSo I’m waiting for the King
To come galloping out of the clouds while the angel armies sing
He’s gonna gather His people in the shadow of His wings
And I’m gonna raise my voice with the song of the redeemed
‘Cause all this darkness is a small and passing thingThis is the storm, this is the storm
The storm before the calm
This is the pain, the pain before the balm
This is the cold, the cold
It’s the cold before the warm
These are the tears, the tears before the song
This is the dark
Sometimes all I see is this darkness
Well, can’t you feel the darkness
This is the dark before the dawnI’m just waiting for a change
Change
Lord, I’m waiting for the changeI had a dream that I was waking
At the burning edge of dawn
And I could see the fields of glory
I could hear the sower’s songI had a dream that I was waking
At the burning edge of dawn
And all that rain had washed me clean
All the sorrow was goneI had a dream that I was waking
At the burning edge of dawn
And I could finally believe
The king had loved me all alongI had a dream that I was waking
At the burning edge of dawn
I saw the sower in the silver mist
And He was calling me home

And in a day where busy is god, bad news screams from the 24 hour cycle and civilization seems to have lost it’s filter, I am reminded that the light IS going to come.  We WILL see the fields of glory.  And, one day, we will be truly home.  Rest will be the norm.  Work will always be joy.  The ones I love will be always near, always whole, and always safe.
Glory.

Into a New Season

Change, it is a-happening around here.  My oldest, my firstborn, my suddenly taller-than-me man-child who made me a mama is a Senior in high school.

A SENIOR.

He was on my hip with a blankie in hand just five minutes ago.

Add to that the preparations for the homeschool year of my younger four, (I also have a JUNIOR for crying out loud!) cutting several inches of curls off my middle’s long hair (resulting in her suddenly looking like a teenager…which she is…but still…) and finding armpit hairs on my eleven year old son and, well, I may or may not be on the verge of tears at the mere sound of a baby laughing or a toddler holding up it’s arms and saying, “Hold you!”

I could lament, or I could celebrate the season I am in.  To be honest, I’m doing a little of both.

I have no one in elementary school any more.  No one who fits into “kids-size” clothing.  No one who has a bow in their hair or baby teeth.  It’s weird.  It’s wonderful.  It’s hard.  It’s freeing.

Independence is right at their ages, for the most part.  They shouldn’t need me to butter their toast or heat up their leftovers.  They can fold their own laundry and put away the dishes.  (Now if only I could get them to clean their ROOMS!)  They can read and ride their bikes and entertain themselves, allowing me the time to do things I enjoy such as writing.

I homeschool the youngest four, which means we are together much more than we are not.  But, still, sometimes I miss them.

Oh, they are here.  I love engaging in their conversations and receive plenty of smiles and hugs, but life has dramatically changed in the past few years.  They don’t “need” me like they once did, which is both awful and beautiful at once.

I took the three youngest to the zoo today.  At ages 13, 11 and 11 (yes, that is two elevens) I wasn’t sure if they would think they were too “old” for the zoo.  I feared they might think it “lame.”

I was so gloriously wrong.

We explored and oohed and ahhed over animals we had not visited in a long time.  The new Andean Bear exhibit was breathtaking, two big bears wrestling and rolling in the grass like siblings.  My thirteen year old whispered, not knowing I could hear her, “This is awesome.”

And it was.

Memories of their childhood flooded my heart as I saw mamas with babies in carriers, strollers parked outside exhibit doors, and heard a little boy exclaim, “My pip-pops!” when his flip-flop fell off.  We all relished the sweetness of the little ones surrounding us as much as we relished the beauty and diversity of God’s handiwork.

It was a good day.  It was filled with smiles and sunshine and, for just a few hours, I felt like I was standing astraddle of the gap between life as it was and life as it is.  I saw the wonder of a little child in the faces of my not-so-little kids and I am just so thankful for the respite of remembering before the busyness of our school year begins.

Times are changing, old seasons are gone, but if I take a moment and open my eyes to what is before me I can see the hope and future of these children in whom I have invested my life.  Despite the hormones and, dare I say, attitude of the pre-teen and teen years, the remnants of the little ones who once placed their chubby hands in mine are still there.

Now the hands I hold are bigger, stronger, and maybe even calloused.

But they fit mine perfectly just like they always have.

Evening Wonder-A Poem

Stars above shine bright,
distant clouds flicker from within,
illuminated by light

The power of God on display
in skies alive with electric joy,
celebrating the end of day

Crickets sing in harmony,
waves of praise to the Ancient of Days
and the lightning beckons me

Look up, oh daughter, and see
your King’s flashing sword at play!
He comes to you on bended knee,

woos you with beauty and song.
Do you feel the waves of grace?
Do you see where you belong?

The storm is hovering afar,
the threat overtaken by beauty,
bolts of lighting spar.

Sculptured clouds dance,
with joy and abandon they glow,
and all of creation declares His glory

The Hidden Revealed

The sun was climbing high into the sky as I drove my kids to their homeschool tutorial.  The earth had been blanketed by a heavy fog that was still clinging to the land, giving the hills a soft-focus.  We rounded the curve that marked the near-end of our trek when, all around us, we noticed them: Thousands upon thousands of gossamer bowls clinging to the tall blades of grass and the lower branches of the newly-green trees.

What has hatched overnight and spun all these webs?  Is this good or is it a plague?

My imagination might have gone a little crazy for about thirty seconds.

I wanted to take a photo SO badly, but I figured manhandling my cell phone at 70+ miles per hour would set a very poor example for my future drivers, and we were running late so stopping on the side of the road to explore would make for an awkward arrival after classes had already begun. Therefore, I made a mental note to take the time necessary to document this phenomenon on the way home.

We arrived at the tutorial in the nick of time and mentioned what we saw to the tutors, still in awe over the sheer multitude of the webs.  They had seen them before, of course, and said the webs are always there, just not visible until the dew settles on them.  That got me to thinking, as nature often does.

I kissed my babes goodbye and hit the road for the thirty minute drive home, prepared for a quick detour and mini photo session.

Except they were gone.  I squinted to try and see them, maybe picking out a couple here and there if I looked really hard but surprised that in the span of fifteen minutes the lifting of the fog had rendered the thousands of webs almost completely invisible!

“Lord, what do you want to teach me?”  I spoke out loud, knowing God always has a parable waiting for us in His creation.  It declares His glory.  All of it, always.

I drove the rest of the way home in silence, waiting as my mind pieced together truth and compared what I had seen to what I know from Scripture.

James 1:25 (MSG) says,

But whoever catches a glimpse of the revealed counsel of God—the free life!—even out of the corner of his eye, and sticks with it, is no distracted scatterbrain but a man or woman of action. That person will find delight and affirmation in the action.

As a writer, I have found it necessary to keep a way of jotting down notes on hand at all times because I never know where I’ll be or what I’ll be doing when inspiration hits.  And I can make mental notes all the live-long day but by the time I get home to my computer I will draw a complete blank when I try to recall what it was that made my heart burn earlier in the day.  Every. Single. Time. This applies to my walk with God as well!

He is constantly working on us, dealing with weakness, strengthening our strengths, molding and shaping and purifying our lives by revealing the “webs” that have infested our lives.  Like the early morning dew, settling heavy on the land and revealing what has been there all along, God gently settles His attention on the things we thought we had hidden.  This is “the revealed counsel of God” mentioned in the above passage.

And if we are willing, the revelation is beautiful.

It is a loving Father who disciplines his child.  It is a good and faithful God who refuses to leave us as we are because He sees in us who we will become.  It is a tender and attentive Husband who leads and protects His Bride, guiding her away from harm, revealing and washing away the stains imposed upon her by the struggle of living in this fallen world.  He knows we are dust, but never leaves us in the dust.

Oh, how He loves us.

Be encouraged today, dear one.  When you are confronted by your sins and the realization of what has been allowed to lurk in your life threatens to throw you into shame, look up.  Your Heavenly Father is busy, working ever-so-gently to clear out the webs and reveal the bright spring green that is your life in Him!  The window of opportunity is often short, like the sunrise as it crests over the far hills, so take notice when the revelation occurs and let God do what He does best.

He makes all things new.

Excitement!

As you may know, I am a huge fan of Sally Clarkson.  I wrote all about her in this post. She has written several books that have changed the way I live and her podcast is on constant play when I am in my car.

For the past month I have had the pleasure of being on the launch team for the book, The Lifegiving Parent, written by Clay and Sally Clarkson.  (Which means it is for daddies, too!) It has been such a privilege to share and participate in this good work of spreading the word about a message that will change the fabric of countless families.

Well, today is launch day!

Today the book will be in the hands of those of us who pre-ordered!

And today, I’d like to bless you with a giveaway!  🙂

If you will share the link to this post and leave a comment in the comments section of this page telling me so, you will be entered into a drawing for your very own copy of this wonderful new book.  The winner will be announced next Tuesday, so get to sharing!  I’m so excited to get this into your hands, too!  You will love it.

Have a wonderful week!  I’ll be out back on the porch with my nose in the book!

To order click here:  The Lifegiving Parent

 

Holy Week Reflections: The Grace of Dawn

The last of the dark clouds drifted across the rising sun, just over the trees topping the hills.  Beams of light flooded the room as the sun, at last, broke through and shone freely.

Such is the season of Lent.

In this Holy Week, as I reflect on the last days of Jesus’ earthly life, I am struck by the symbolism God has placed in all of nature.

In this season of life, as naiveté  is stripped away and the world groans in longing for His return, I am struck by my need to remember that my Jesus is acquainted with sorrows…accompanied by grief.  He sits with me in compassion and understanding because He knows.

He has suffered and sits with us in our suffering.

I have lit the Lenten candles each morning, watching as each day the new candle adds light.  I look to the Light as I pray before the candlelight, settled in my dependency, determined to keep walking forward.  I dwell, fascinated by the curling smoke as the candles are extinquished one-by-one, for a few long moments.  I sit in holy grief, knowing my sin nailed my savior to that cross, yet sit in hope, knowing that he won.

He rose.

And I am free.

Lent, unlike Advent (which is filled with child-like anticipation of the Newborn King), is heavy.  It is the knowing of my faults, the realization that His suffering should have been mine.  It is taking the time to sit in the weight of my sin while knowing, with each passing day, that my sin has been nailed to the cross and I bear it no more.

Praise the Lord, Oh my soul.

Lent is stepping into the suffering of Jesus, because He stepped into mine.  It is identifying with the cross, allowing Him to bear mine.  It is looking ahead, to the day when He stood, filled with breath and life, and walked out of that grave and took me right along with Him.

Lent is hope.  It is promise.  It is Grace.

It is the golden ribbon of morning puddled along the far black horizon, taking shape as Hope dawns faithfully day after day.

He is risen.  He is risen, indeed.

Spring Emerging: Finding reassurance in God’s faithfulness.

Every year, as Summer heat beats down and yet another plant dies from lack of water (because by August I stink at gardening), I vehemently declare that Autumn is my favorite.  Cooler temps, sweaters and jeans, hot chocolate with marshmallows…and the Autumn leaves.  Simply beautiful in every way.

But then Winter comes.  At first it’s good.  I’m excited about Christmas and fill my home with way too many decorations and cook all the cookies, despite my low-carb vow.  I tolerate the cold nights by the fire and find joy in a plush blanket…

until January.

Then I’m over it.  It’s cold and dreary and dark and all the bare trees, dormant grass and NO SNOW despite the frigid temps send me into a funk.  (My area of Tennessee is notorious for cold, snowless winters.)  I just want warmer days and sunshine.  Is that too much to ask?

And just when I begin to think it’s never going to happen, I inspect the trees lining the sidewalk…especially the one the landscapers were sure had died…and there they are.  Buds.

Redbuds, to be exact.fullsizeoutput_a616

This discovery turns my frown upside down and I get happy.

Suddenly, Spring is my favorite.

And it’s finally coming.

The air is getting warmer by the day and all of creation is pregnant with life and color!  Take a walk today.  Look closely at the branches and inspect the mulch, noticing the spears of new leaves peeking through and flowers getting ready to bloom.  Slow down and put down your phone.  Take in the sights and smells of the season and rejoice!

Hosea 6:3-Let us know; let us press on to know the Lord; his going out is sure as the dawn; he will come to us as the showers, as the spring rains that water the earth.”

As sure as the dawn, friends.  Our Lord gives us these seasons in their predictability and consistency as reminders of His faithfulness!  Is that not reassuring as we emerge from the cold of Winter?  No matter how difficult this season has been, Spring is on it’s way!  As we stop and take in the newness of the bright green grass and flowering trees let’s do just what the verse above said…let’s press on to know our Lord, for he is faithful and trustworthy and consistent in all His ways.  He WILL come, just as Spring shows her face every single year in the blooms emerging from their winter sleep and the rains that feed May’s flowers!  If we press on to know Him, we will be rewarded with what we seek.  Intimacy, light, color and beauty will fill our spirits and we will walk in the warmth of His grace.

Happy Spring, dear ones.