Snowflakes in My Coffee Cup

snowflakes

Snowflakes in my coffee cup

the stillness in my heart fills up

The clouds hang thick

and branches sprawl

the skyline dead in silver mist

the chill creeps to the marrow of my frozen finger bones

but my coffee cup, still warm.

Like a place I called my home.

It was summer once inside its doors

our laughing feet had danced its floors

in hope-filled beds my children sleep

while dinner’s dishes graced the sink.

Not again will I fear noise or mess,

or things I thought went “wrong”.

While sufferings come, the seasons change

-like snowflakes, melt with warmth.

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Missing Redemption’s Song

If I stood before the throne would I hear “Well done.”?

Or would I fall, that my works were all rags in Your sight?

Did I, in confusion forget my first Love?

is Your face turned away from my soul’s dark night?

Have I raced for redemption in my own strength?

Have I sought Your forgiveness in vain?

Have You not saved me when I was a child?

 Am I missing the Savior I’ve known?

now to swim in the fire of lukewarm and mild

Have I wandered too far to come Home?

I want to be brave, I am cowardly

I need Your strength, I am weak

I am carnal. I focus so outwardly.

But know all the right words to speak

In traditions of man do I compromise,

yet form lists of laws from Your grace?

You could righteously judge me a hypocrite

and know not what to make of my faith.

 

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Heaven’s Reign

Was that restlessness in my heart

something I would miss

In the conflict and the questions

had my cross become a gift?

In the searching; In the pain;

at a loss Your Word remained

at the source of my surrender

I give my life to gain

After walking through the fire, will I not cry for heaven’s rain?

and when the storm has left me battered

do I not cry out for Your strength?

Does not evil seem to prosper

and the wicked charge the gates

While the good men warm their pockets

with their condemnation paid

Who is faking? raise your hand

that life is smooth as Gaza sand

whose preachers promise worries fade

and wear redemption as a masquerade

Blue-Dark-Ages

How did it pass me by unseen

that I see dimly. Even me.

Inside my fellow slaves are dead

the empty gathered in the streets

denied my Savior’s blood was red

Has death passed over Pharoh’s door

for righteous men to claim?

After walking through the fire I will cry for Heaven’s reign.

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When the Fall Comes, The Apples are on the Trees.

crayon apple tree

Last week, my 7 year old son brought home some artwork from his 2nd grade class. Very simply, it was his drawing he colored, of a tree with lots of apples in it. Above his artwork was the sentence “In the fall, the apple trees have lots of apples.”

The Holy Spirit nudged me: The fall, is autumn: “harvest”. At harvest time, fruit and crops are ready to be gathered, and picked.

Brothers and sisters, we are living in the harvest days. We all know these are the end days spoken about….and we can look around at the godless culture written about in our Bibles. The people are destitute with defiled hearts and depraved minds- completely starved of Truth. They are down-trodden by a meaningless life designed by corrupt rulers…of a world that has rejected, slandered, and mocked our Jesus Christ; the very Son of God.

Now I’m not talking about the scoffers proud in their lusts, the ones with knowingly evil intent, or the openly rebellious and spiteful against God. And I’m not talking about the proud religious pharisees with their chests puffed up, believing that they have attained righteousness and holiness…who have “made themselves like God” condemning those who are in need of Him, deceiving those who are seeking Him.

I am talking about the down-trodden, the hurting, the confused, and all of the souls of whom it is so apparent they are struggling to adjust to this sick and dark culture right now. THEY are called. They are the ripe apples on the tree waiting to be picked and gathered (into the Kingdom!). Let us not let them fall to the ground! (where the serpents crawl). The nobodies according to this sick world, are the EVERYTHING to the Kingdom of Heaven. They are just waiting to hear the Truth from you and I. And let me tell you, they are ready to receive Him.

The harvest is here.

“You shall know them by their fruit”

We can tell clearly the sheep from the goats. We know those who are called- let the Holy Spirit USE us to make them chosen.

The darker the night gets- the more our light becomes evident.

“and it shall give light to ALL who are in the house” Matthew 5?

God bless you… I love you all my family in Jesus Christ 

 

 

 

 

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Re-Birth

What does it mean to be born?

The process of birth is a crisis that is at once given worth, not by an army of wise men, not through centuries of human knowledge, but in the very seconds of a newborn baby’s first cries. We could gather up all the words we want to describe the value of that  new human life, but everything we need to know is described in that sound. Only in his infant wailing can the crisis of birth offer redemption.

Tears of joy. Now, there’s an oxy-moron.

The joy is, finally, to see and hold what could not be seen or felt on this side of the womb. The beginning of an unknown story. In wonder, we look into the eyes of a human who is innocent in a broken world.

But there was risk involved. Tragedy has taught us, that the reward of a living child does not always come after a pregnancy…The tears were stored for this, and sudden relief breaks the levees.

John 16:21 says “Whenever a woman is in labor she has pain, because her hour has come ; but when she gives birth to the child, she no longer remembers the anguish because of the joy that a child has been born into the world.”

More and more I find the parallel of birth connected to the Christian walk and its prominence in the pages of scripture.  The first place was obviously when Jesus says to Nicodemus in John 3, “Unless one is born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.” Confused, Nicodemus asks Him how this is even possible. ” Can a man enter his mother’s womb a second time?”

This is the key that still confounds. Even more so, in this defiled modern way of life we know now. But Jesus said the answer is not a matter of flesh and blood. I can enter God’s kingdom only by being born of “water, and of the Spirit.” And just as I had no control over my physical birth, my spiritual re-birth is done by His Holy Spirit alone. Nothing I could humanly do makes me “born again”.

However, like my physical birth there was crisis. The risk involved was that I lost my old way of living. There were labor pains, but they were spiritual labor pains. It hurt. My illusions were shattered. I came to the end of myself. I was alone. I cried out. 

  It was only then I learned that I was enslaved and I couldn’t free myself. I looked around and saw other people in the same condition.  Something was stirring inside. Strange phenomena started crossing my path daily, and I couldn’t ignore it. The best I could pull out of my own heart was darkness and finally, I wanted out.

But it was God who brought me there. I knew there was promise on the other side, and in order to come to the reward of that new-born redemption I risked my old way of living.  Colossians 1:13 reads, “For he has delivered us from the power of darkness, and has translated us into the kingdom of his dear Son.”

Only in my wailing was I redeemed. The crisis God brought me to was done through His Spirit. Losing control, He made me new in Him.

“…and he that loses his life for my sake shall find it.” (Matt. 10:39.)

Tears of joy. What a beautiful contradiction. The joy was, finally, to see and touch what could not be seen or felt on this side of Heaven. The beginning of an unknown story. In wonder, I looked into a broken world through the eyes of a human who had just been born into the Kingdom of God.

“Truly I tell you, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.”- Jesus Christ   (Luke 18:7)

newborn-baby-crying-sxc_152848_8638-1024x685

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A Radical Thoery

When something wakes me up before 7 a.m. on a Sunday morning I am inclined to pay attention.

It wasn’t so much a dream in the usual sense. To describe it best it was more like the narrative of a SciFi movie, played out in a wakeful sleep. And It propelled me to get out of bed, brew a cup of coffee, and write it down.

To me, it makes perfect sense. You can call it a radical theory. So here it is.

Technology is making us sick. Our wireless, electronic, and digital devices are effectively diseasing us and entire civilizations that use them. Physically they cause headaches, arthritis, tumors, all forms of cancer, birth defects, sleep disturbances, and inadequate immune systems. Mentally they are responsible for slowed concentration, brain fog, confusion, learning disabilities, an increase of mood disorders, paranoia, and symptoms of mental diseases. Emotionally and socially they are causing anxiety, depression, and a marked sense of detachment from community and those around us.

When microwaves were largely introduced to modern households in the late 1960’s through the 1980’s, there was a brief panic over the fact that they used electromagnetic radiation to heat our food. This was quickly stifled by the opinions of experts reassuring that the levels of radiation were too small and contained to have any effect on humans. So we fearlessly ate up the convenience from the magic counter-top box.

Perhaps these suspicions were too short-lived.

I was reminded of a time when the kids and I moved into a rental house out in the country. The stove and oven used propane gas, which I felt was too expensive and dangerous. For about one month, all of our dinners were cooked and heated in our microwave. All of my then four family members came down with chronic digestive problems and useless immune systems. We were sick- all the time. This let up when we switched to a portable grill.

The same electromagnetic radiation that quickly heats up food by effectively changing its molecular structure, is now used to create our wireless signals that power cell towers, our phones, laptops, tablets, computers, and internet modems.

I know of a family who has a very high-tech household. They have two dogs; a short-haired large breed, and an incredibly long-haired medium breed dog. The large dog develops tumors all over his body, that needed to be removed surgically. The last round of growths had just been taken off a few months ago, and there are now two more getting to be a problem for him. Their long-haired dog just had a rapidly growing basal-cell tumor. Unfortunately it is very costly to send in canine tissues to a lab to have them evaluated. Regardless, it looked cancerous and they had it removed. Then it occurred to me that every evening, the usual place for their dogs to lounge is in the center of the living room. Of which they are surrounded on all sides by a satellite flat-screen internet TV, a wireless internet modem, a lap-top, two iphones, an ipad, and another tablet. And the area where the long-haired dog developed her basal-cell tumor? The place where her dog collar thins her fur closet to the skin. Could they be suffering from over-exposure to electromagnetic radiation?

We are constantly bombarded and surrounded with its use in everyday life,  dependent on it in every aspect. Why have we not considered  the possibility that it harmfully effects human soft-tissue?

My radical theory, is that it does. Have you ever talked on a cell phone for a long period of time and noticed how much it heated up? What about the concerns of using laptops without a heat barrier underneath them? Ask yourself what makes them work. What makes them heat up? Think microwaves. Its radiation nonetheless.

I believe there are people with influence who do realize the health and safety perils that this technology imposes, but will not warn about it. We have become too reliant, it is too profitable, and modernization has taken priority.

It’s only a theory. But if it is true, we have a choice to make. I am not trying to incite fear, or spread propaganda. I am simply asking you to research this for yourself before you make the choice to ignore it.

plato-quotes-sayings-shadows-lies-brainy

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How God Uses Our Dreams

Ever have a dream that you forget upon waking, but revisits you in the afternoon? It is as if somehow,  the events of the dream seep into our memory in living color from the gray recesses of our subconscious. This is what happened to me today.

Not only did I get to see the whole thing play out again, but I got to hear the gentle voice in my heart explain to me the parables within it.  I am left just simply so encouraged. This is what I remembered:

It was my first day at a new job: mixing cement at a factory. I was the only girl on the job as I showed up to this dusty garage-type warehouse in an old jeans and shirt. I was pretty much intimidated. It seemed like a rough environment, and I had no clue what I was supposed to do or how. There was nobody interested in training me so I just walked around and watched some of the men working. They were all mixing cement by hand in these big barrels, and some were adding various industrial ingredients. Oddly enough this either consisted of wood, metal scraps, cardboard, or unknown shavings of something.

I fetched a barrel and walked over to a separate area I would use as my own station, frustrated when I realized I had nothing to put into it. It was empty, and I was failing at my new job.

To my relief, this man walked over to where I was standing. He looked rugged from hard work. His hands were tough and caloused, and I couldn’t tell if his face had five o’clock shadow or just debris from the shop. It was weathered and tanned from the sun, but his eyes were bright, blue with kindness and surrounded with laugh-lines that complimented his smile.

I confessed to him that I didn’t really know what I was doing. He reassured me I would be  fine, and he brought me over a new barrel. I looked into it, and there was the cement-like base filled halfway from the bottom.

“Where would I get that?” I asked him.

He replied, “Don’t worry, this one is for you.” Again, I breathed a sigh of relief.

Then he started adding to it materials that I didn’t recognize. Some were red like colorful gems, others were ugly and black like coal, along with some gray blob-like substance. There were metal shards and everything else in between. Then he put in something like the gold from a fire, and I asked him why no one else was mixing with these unusual things. I don’t know if he answered me or not.

As the container filled, he stirred it with a rod and it started changing the whole appearance of the mixture. It bubbled and came to life, and began to give off a beautiful glow. I studied intently. It was vivid, strange, and quite unreal.

I remembered him answering my next question..”What are these things you’re putting in?”

“These are all the things in your life that you don’t understand.  Some of it is the good you’ve done to other people when you didn’t think it mattered; the ruby colored gems. Some are your painful experiences; betrayals, mistakes, failures; those are the ugly coals. I added every confusing time you lost your way, and every season you had forgotten who you are; those were the gray formless substances. The objects like gold from the fire..” he paused. “They are the intense and unbearable trials you have been through, and have yet to go through. These are the most valuable. Through all of them you have cried out to me with a clean heart. It was these times I could reach out my hand to you and you would take hold of it. I could build your faith in me, strengthen your trust in me, and grow your love for me…These trials I allow into the mixture because they refine all the rest, and firmly bond you and I. Through each one I can start to see more of my reflection in you. I use them to mix all of these different things together into something beautiful and useful.”

As I realized it was Jesus who I met in my dream, I was reminded of a couple different passages from scripture. “And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.”in Romans 8:28…

“Being confident of this very thing, that he which hath begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ” Philippians 1:6.

Surely only He can use every single experience in our lives; the good, the ugly, the painful – and masterfully blend them together as His personal labor of love. And surely this pleases Him.

But we only see bits and pieces; fragments; shards. Mere footsteps of a lifelong journey can leave us questioning what it all means.

It helps to be reminded that God sees it all from beginning to end. That He knows every part of who we are, and he longs to show us the plans He has for us. He takes such care to lovingly shape us into His image. In hard-working, blue-collar fashion, He painstakingly adds just what is needed. Sometimes the process can hurt. Often it makes no sense to us. He simply asks us to take ahold of His hand and trust in Him.

sun clouds througgh tree

 

 

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Waiting at the Door

Your thoughts are not my thoughts, and Your ways are not my ways

how restless I become throughout the days; my aching heart impatient in the wait

in Your silence I forget to pray, when in the drought I cry for rain

if only I could see Your face;

I struggle, Father, in the pain

Oh how I strive to make the seasons change,

but find I trust myself in vain.

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Banging Down the Door

the battle

 

Some days, there are moments I am fortunate enough to learn something about my own journey. Today was one of those days.

This afternoon I was on the computer hovering over my measly resume and despairing over what options exist for me. I was mentally spent as it was.

Then all of the sudden I hear a series of thuds coming from downstairs. I tilted my head in concentration as the thuds became bangs and progressed into repetitive loud crashings. I began to panic, as my step-dad was in bed resting from the flu.

So I flung myself out of my chair, quite angry, and flew down the steps to see what involvement my boys might have to do with the noise. CRASH! Nothing in the living room. SLAM! Nothing in the next room. SLAM! BANG! 

When I got to the kitchen, I saw the screen door just holding its hinges and appearing through the window was what looked like my seven-year-old son in a ferocious battle with that door. CRASH! CRa…

He stopped when he saw me standing in the doorway and the look on his little face turned from rage to fear in that second.

The door was locked.

I didn’t care.

He was getting a spanking, period. And afterwards, he would get scolded in the meanest mom voice I could muster.

Have you ever seen the little orange kitty cat from Shrek…you know, that scene where its pitiful gigantic eyes just stare up at you and well up in tears as his little face trembles? Well, I’m almost sure he stood in that kitchen today and broke my heart.

“But Mom, I prayed! I prayed to God for someone to come unlock the door…and it didn’t work! Nobody came out!”

I paused. “Austin, He always hears our prayers…but He needs us to trust and obey Him. You couldn’t have been out there for long. If you would have waited just a little bit, I was going downstairs anyway and God would have answered your prayer. But instead, you took the matter into your own hands, broke the rules and got yourself in trouble. You aren’t allowed to bang down the door.”

As I wiped his tears, my own words echoed back to my spirit. I knew that this was one of those lessons. I teach, yet I am taught.

How many times have I cried out for God’s help, only to rush suddenly to my own devices and get into trouble? When things look hopeless, how quickly I try to take the matter into my own hand, forgetting that my Heavenly Father promises to supply all of my needs. And What a timely reminder while walking through the valley I am in right now.

The Lord says in Proverbs 3, verses 5-6:

” Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.”

Today I was reminded that when The Lord wants to get my attention, He will use the very words out of my own mouth I use to correct my own children. These are the lessons that stick.

 

 

 

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She Yelled and Called Me Names

This is a reblog from a post that really touched my heart, it is not mine. I have never re-blogged before, but this I have to share. God bless.

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