An, "Old made new forever remember Christmas," Part Two

So I sit here still.

This place of rememberance. A place where God's truth, his power, his promise, rushes around and through me so fast and hard that I spin in love and joy...and yet...much of my Christmas sits in piles unfinished. 

This room...a mess. But beautiful chaos I think. Lovely corners with things that wait. On a table, ruined by glue and paint and love sits three cut out hands and a box of remembrance. Each hand bigger than the other, three boys, three brothers who live in my heart...and the box...it's for Stella Grace.

And oh...the memories...

Little hands dripping with creek water held up in front of eyes of wonder wanting to show me the shiny treasures inside. 

Three seasons of singing and swinging with baby boys on a porch in back.

Tummies that ache from too too many pears.

Chins stained and dripping with juice from sweet garden strawberries.

The miracle of Jude's blackberry bush. 

Summer picnics on a blue blanket in grass with goldfish crackers on white plates.

Daughters who laugh and cry and sit and pray and read and wait.

Daughters who became mothers and aunts and friends.

A son who made a creek new with his father, who hung on the beams, bought me baby turkeys and swam with dogs on his back.

And a husband...who never stops...just makes it all beautiful for us.   

Mountains and sunsets. Morning light and promise.

Goodness, and God and Glory

I plant memorial stones in this messy place. Deep deep in my heart.

I know. I remember. Life and death and truth and love. And the greatest of these....

And then Fall came...

And with God's very breath over this mountain He blew inspiration over me...

And so...I sand and spray and paint and make new and remember...

And I have faith for my pile of unfinished Christmas because there will be birthdays and weddings and babies and graduations and God stories...

May our lives be full of these...

And may we know that life and death, old made new, redemption, new life, and Jesus 

Are What Matter. 

An "Old made new forever remember," Christmas

     It's the last thing I do before going to bed and the first thing I check on when my feet hit the floor. My projects. My Christmas.
     I've been treasure hunting. Collecting things that have a past. I am going to make them new and write the next chapter in their stories for my family.
     I began to sand through wood trying to erase scars and scratches when I suddenly picture the hands and feet of Jesus. The scar on his side and I remember what they mean.
     I stop sanding. The nicks and notches in the old wood have become beautiful.

     I can't explain how I feel making things inspired by God in this season of my life because I have never felt this before. But over and over God takes me back to this place of remembrance. He sets me on the hills where memorial stones are planted. He reminds me that my story was written by Him and he wants me to leave behind a part of His story in my history, and so...
    I sand and stain and arrange and glaze and wait and check on...
    And on Christmas I will give away a few, "forever remember" moments of a life written by God with a heart of great praise from a greatly loved daughter.
   
    I wish I could show you what I'm doing... but it would spoil the surprise.
   
    Pssss..."I'll show you later."
   
     

Right onto the pages of Robinson Crusoe...

     Today was full of surprises. Seriously. One after another.
     Truth is, I'm getting pretty comfortable with my, "Jesus adventures," so when he says, "Let's go." I go.
     And so I put on trail blazin' shoes.
     This week was hard, (this season has been hard), and tomorrow marks a week since my friends husband died.
    It was fast and tragic and I'm still reeling.
     Life is hard.
     But today...I knew deeply God's love. I felt it.

     "Keep out" signs don't always keep me out, but they did today. I promised my husband and Mother I'd be careful, so remembering my Rock Creek adventure, I sent Paul a text to let him know where I was going.
     And today, I got blessed. And I got a little taste of what it might be like to be a real adventurer.
     And I loved it...
  
     So thank you for, Lord.  Thank you for being beside me in all the really hard places. I see you. I know your love.

What a mess!

Why are you sitting here like this? How did you get to be such a mess.  What is wrong, child? 

I look up. Really? This is how you're going to start our conversation?

How else would you expect me to start it?

I look at him and then look down. I could use a hug.

So he gives me one.

And I'd like it if you'd just sit with me for a while and hold my hand. I love it when you hold my hand.

So He does.

Now. He finally says. I'll ask you again.  Why do you sit here like this?

I let out a long hard sigh. I'm just so weary.  I tell him. I have no "good fight" left in me.  I'm really discouraged. It is just too hard.

Okay. If that's really how you feel, then now what? You gonna sit here underneath all this hard stuff and... wallow? Just roll around in these shadows some more until you get really covered with them and they get really heavy? Think that's the answer? 

I ponder this.

If that's the case, you might as well just open up the door and let him in now.
  
I give God a hard look.

He's right outside. He points. Prowling around, struttin' his stuff. Roaring. He thinks you're lookin' pretty good right now too. You're kinda right where he wants you. He can't wait to get in here.

But I belong to you, I say with just a hint of sarcasm.  You never leave me and Jesus already saved me.

All of that is also true. But that Lion... God points right outside the door. He gets to try. That's just the way it is. And you are ripe for picking now. He pulls me close and whispers.  But when you walk in my joy. My joy that is your strength, his goal, (to steal and destroy and lie),  becomes much harder to do so he just moves on. When your heart is full of praise and you are full of Faith most times, he'll just walk on by. He pauses, but days like this...well...He nods his head toward the door, he waits.

I grip His hand a little tighter.

He pats it. I'll sit  here with you for a little while longer, but then I'm going to step away because you know the truth. You know it is in my strength that you will get to your feet and leave this dreary place. It is in my power that you will walk right past that roaring lion and sing my Praise.

I take a long slow breath.

You know what I have told you and you must remember the things I've shown you. You can fight the good fight. You will. He lets go of my hand and stands.
Put on my armor before you open this door, and when you're ready, plant your feet firmly on the solid rock of my truth and step out in Faith full of my word.
You are my Beloved! Now stand up. Put some Praise on your lips! I know you can.

He smiles and opens the door. There is great adventure ahead for you precious daughter. And don't you ever doubt that again! He blows me a kiss as he walks away and I watch from the window as the lion bows at his feet.

I put my hand on the door knob and take another deep breath. The joy of the Lord is my strength. I say it again. Louder. The joy of the Lord is my strength and I open the door .  I can do all things through Christ Jesus. The lion hears me and looks up. I take a step. So does the lion.  I can do all things through Christ Jesus!

And when I pass him...

I am singing worship and I smile and pat his head.

Oh Eve!

     There had to be that moment. The instant when it hit you. The thing you had done and what it meant.
   
     I picture you with your hands in Eden's dirt and sweat on your brow as you stand and lift your face into a breeze. The birds sing and swoop and peck out the seeds you planted but you love and smile and guard because in the garden you walk with God. You walk in the garden with God and know His Glory. You know it.
   
     So you toil and plant and reap and care because your purpose under heaven is for this hard and good and holy work. From the breath of God it is innately in your spirit and you see what is front of you and know its gift. You see and you know.
 
      Did you get tired and sore from all the toiling? Was Adam doing his part. Were you exhausted the day the serpent came with his temptation? Was it all just too intoxicating?    
   
     Oh Eve!
     How could you? You were in paradise with God.
     I know you must've wanted to take it all back. To spit in the face of the snake and spit out the fruit and say,"No! No! No!", but it was too late and you knew it.
   
     I picture you now outside the garden gate lying on the ground crying out to God with the deepest of wailing. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" You say and beg for another chance.
     But you didn't get one and I'm sorry for that because God had to be God and you had to be Eve. You had to be Eve because God chose you. He chose you.

      I wonder how long you laid there waiting for God to change his mind? Begging him too. And when you finally picked yourself up was Adam waiting or did you find yourself alone? How many times did you stop and turn back for one more deep glance of hope wanting desperately to see God and hear him say, "Come back! Come home!"
     And then you turned one last time and simply couldn't see your Garden anymore.

     Oh Eve!
     I see you once again with your hands in the dirt and sweat on your brow as you stand and put your face into the breeze while birds and Angels swoop and sing. And this most glorious garden is full of  students of Eden who watch and learn to toil and plant and reap from the first master gardener. It is full of God and love and eyes that See and spirits that Know.

     Oh Eve!
     I want you to know that even though you started us down the path of sin you didn't end us. We get second chances now. And third. How about that? And all because of Jesus. He died for us and gave us Grace, but you probably already know.
   
     And so...dont be surprised when I walk into your eternal garden one day. Ill be there.

Beautiful Bones...

      There are beautiful bones buried deep on country roads. The marrow and roots of it, so rich behind gates made of sticks and barbed wire hold life and truth and God and move something deep in me. Sometimes I just want to burrow in and disappear inside the story.

    There are deep strong bones inside these cabins and I hear them groaning to breathe again. Broken, they have been left to linger alone but I visit them and hear their whispers. I think they are beautiful and I want to dig them out of the ground and take them home because I do not think they are finished yet. I believe there should be more.
     Season after season, they draw me back with the hypnotic promise of something. What?

     And there are deep God bones in the trees and fields and mountains and sky of this place that have lasso'd my heart with a knot so tight I will never escape from the lure of their wile. And so I walk and breath and see...

     Wildflowers...sunsets...pastures sprinkled with cows and horses and sheep and babies...just give me the babies, Lord.
    These quiet my spirit and sooth my soul and everything is right in the world
    In this place I know the majesty and glory and truth of God and I feel it in my own fragile beautiful bones and I praise.
     I want it. I want the simple life of barbed wire sticks and keep-out gates and trees and cows and mountains and sky. I want my "road home" in all four seasons.
     Oh... if only it was all like this...

     A tree, huge with roots and trunk, lay on the ground with years of seasons buried inside. It's battered and broken down by the wind. A giant wonder with a horse-shoe and it's story still tangled up in it's roots.
 
    And a tree with with white bones stuck them out for me to touch. Until that day I did not know that trees had bones.

     Today I pictured Jesus leaning against the giant tree with a smile as my rebellious spirit climbed the fence where the "Keep-out" sign was clearly posted. "Your foot is not really ready for this fence." I heard him say. But I climbed it anyway and I knew He knew I would.
     Does the idea of Jesus meeting me in the, "do-not-enter" zones help my confession that I climb the fences and push through the barb wire anyway and do not care?
    Just look at the pictures I took of the cabin. Is was worth it, don't you think? was it? But the light was amazing.  

    These things remind me of childhood. Of toad hopping contests and fireflies in a jar by my bed. I can hear the sound of our turtles in the cardboard box scratching to get out, our nail polished initials shiny on the back of their shells.
    There was a time when raw cow milk was put on porches in bottles and  chickens laid eggs and roosters crowed and boys played cowboys outside all day and mail men walked and waved.
    That life, so quiet. Stripped and bare and pure. I want it...
 
        And, yet, I love technology. I fight for it. I sing it's praises for the glory of God.  Blogging, Twitter, Facebook , Instagram.
     I do it all. I was born for this time and this purpose under heaven so could I really imagine this other life?  Would I be happy in simply beautiful country with sky and cow fields with babies and mountains with sunsets and barbed-wire farm field gates made from logs?
     The truth of these things live deep in my heart and sing to my soul. They continue to draw me back to the light and shadow of changing season and new life and furry babies...
But what if I had to choose?
   
     Don't make me...life without all I've grown accustom to would be hard and frustrating. I would not be easy and my company  would not be good.
     But baby cows and cattails make my breath long and slow and I can not stop the smile that comes. And mountain moons and pop-corn clouds pull my car to the side of the road and when the sky is on fire I can hardly breathe so the beautiful bones of my quiet country, deep and rich with promise will always have their way with me.
     So I straddle this place...I walk the line between new and old knowing the gift and beauty of both. God knew of the juxtaposition between these things in my life and He also knew how they both would pull me.

     So I will walk my country roads with fences of sticks and barb and call them beautiful. And I will dream of other roads in country that I have yet to see because I know deep roots and broken barns with story wait for Paul and I.

     And for my sisters that live on country roads that I long to meet. I want to park in the quiet place by the home of the bride of "the farmer" who writes about 1000 gifts with words that make me weep and I want to walk and see and listen to her voice and see her pictures because they will be beautiful and she gets it.
     And for the sister in Texas who moved to the country somewhere and seriously might be my kindred with daughters and a long husband she loves greatly and pain and a heart that has exploded in the new love of grand-babies in her arms and who has a son named Michael just like me. A woman whose story, written by a Father who greatly loves, was redeemed and anointed and changed my heart. I want to sit on her porch and hold her hand and say nothing because it will say everything.

       So know there's a story with beautiful bones on every quiet country road under heaven. When you take the time to follow one, listen for your name and it will tell you all it's secrets. If you're lucky, it might have a mountain on one side and a barbed-wire gate opened to a setting sun throwing shadows over a pasture with babies. And then the moon will come out and you will smile.
    And then another day...you'll go again because the secrets inside the beautiful bones buried there will already be  in you and you wont be able to stop yourself.