Good Friday

Today is Good Friday for so many reasons. It's the first day of vacation, it's an I-can-stay-in-pj's-all-day-if-i-want-to-day, and it's the day we remember that Great Sacrifice made on our behalf. Jesus, the Christ, allowed himself to be crucified for my sins so that One Day I can wear His robes of Righteousness in Joyous Eternity.

My second graders would be complaining about all of the capital letters I used in that paragraph. Names only, Miss Nelson. Proper nouns are names.
Yes, little ones, they are. But sometimes we need to emphasize the very important words.

Great Sacrifice, One Day, Righteousness, Joyous Eternity.

On the sad days, I cling to those words.
On the happy days, I dance in the unfathomable knowledge that that day will be even better than this one...

And this one is pretty good.

My book is all formatted and off with a friend of a friend for its final edit. It's Almost Done!
I'm on vacation, resting, refreshing, and gearing up for the last leg of the 2013-2014 school year.
And, I'm checking out airline prices to book a trip. We're still praying about it, but it looks like I'm going to swing out to Africa and help bring my parents home. :-)

Please pray with me for the logistics of the trip - that the details fall into place, that the journey goes safely, that I can wait patiently... Oh, and pray about the book, too. It's been a long time in the making. I'm excited to be at this stage. Almost seven years since diagnosis! I've said it before, and it hope I never stop saying it: Thank You for walking this path with me.

Be sure you also take a moment to walk with the One Who gave His All for You today.

They were right -- 40 ain't that bad

I know I’m breaking a cardinal rule of blogging by posting on a Monday, but I’ve just got so much to say.

I attended a poetry reading today. Perhaps I should clarify that I was one of the poets. I read three of my poems – including an old favorite, The Christmas Thank you. We chatted and discussed, and then two people turned to me saying, “Have you ever considered…” while handing me their business cards.

Let’s back up a bit.

While this Saturday morning I was seated in a circle with a group of Lewis fans sharing poetry, last Saturday morning I lay in my bed pondering the ramifications of turning 40 (I was equally nervous on both occasions).

The first 20 years of my life were spent growing up. Then my goose was born and I spent the next 20 years of my life helping him grow up. He’ll be turning 20 this July. Which means that task is done. I’ll always be his mother, and hopefully his adviser, confident, and friend. Be he no longer needs me in that dedicated role.

The question became, What will I do with the next 20 years?

I decided that maybe now it’s time to really focus on my writing. So I got out of bed and sorted through my poems, chose some and clipped them together, promising myself that I would publish them. That would be my birthday gift to myself (along with all three seasons of Due North).

Now back to today’s poetry reading.

One person handed me his business card, telling me that he has a connection at DANA Farbor if I were ever interested in doing a poetry reading there. He felt that others would benefit from the perspective and hope I found through my own cancer experience.

The other, with tears in her eyes, handed me her card and told me that I had to get my story out there. She’d just self-published her own story in November and has already sold 600 books. She wants to market my story. She is going home to put my poem on her website right now.

As I ponder the obvious hand of God in this, I realized that both of these people were new to our group. They had come to hear another poet. But God had wanted them to hear me.

So I’m sitting by my melting lake, listening to the crackles and streams of water running under the ice, knowing that God is on the move.

And suddenly, I’m oh-so-excited to be 40!

I just wanted to let you know…

Priceless

“May I join You?” I still feel the hesitance. He is God and I am just me. Unworthy. Little. Sinful.

                But He exudes joy at my presence. “Yes. Please. Of course. Come sit. Why do you keep asking? You know I want You to come and sit beside me. This is Your spot I’ve saved for You. Please come sit and join me.”

                “Thank You, Abba. For loving me.”

                He just smiles.

                It’s quiet. Then He asks, “Do you doubt my love for you?”

                “No,” I answer. Not quickly and defensively. But slowly and thoughtfully. “No. I don’t doubt it. I just wonder why.”

                “Because I made you. Because you’re mine.”

                Again it’s quiet.

                “Now what are you wondering?”

                “Why did you make me so flawed?” The question comes out without me really thinking about it. When I hear it, I’m shocked. Am I blaming God for who I am?

                “What are the flaws you see?” He asks, without a trace of anger.

                I think.

                “I’m impatient. I get angry. I forget to visit You, or worse, I refuse to. I have dark spots inside.”

                “Dark spots?”

                “Dark spots. Areas I can’t go. Things I won’t think about. But that make me who I am.”

                “And were they there when I made you?”

                “No. Living my life put them there.”

                “So I didn’t make the dark spots –“

                “And You didn’t make me flawed.”

                “So, just because what I made got dirty, should I love it any less?”

                “No.”

                Long silence.

                “Can I have your dark spots?”

                “Will I have to look at them to give them to You?”

                “Maybe. Do you trust me?”

                “Yes.” Emphatically. Immediately. “Yes, I trust You. You may have my dark spots. You may have my life. You may have my son. My crafts. My gifts. My money. My clothes. My emotions. My time. My present. My future. And You may have my past.”

                “Thank you. I give you back today.”

                “That’s it?” But it’s not a complaint. It’s a joyful release. A realization that all I’m required to do is live today. All I’m responsible for is right now. No worries about tomorrow. No regrets about yesterday. I only have today.

                “That’s it.” And there’s happy laughter in His voice. Perhaps even pride that I’d begun to catch on? And love. Lot’s of love.

                “Yes. I trust You.” I say again.

                “So what will you do?” He asks.

                “Hmm?” I was lost in thought of trust, love, friends.

                “So what will You do with today?”

                “What do You want me to do?”

                “Live.”

                And a couple of doubts creep in. A couple of fears crop up. I need more details. I want more specifics. How do I live? What exactly should I do? But He’s quiet.

                “I’ve already told you all that,” he finally answers.

                But I want more. I want direct orders to follow.

                “Why?”

                “So I don’t make any mistakes. I trust You. I just don’t trust me. Make me trustworthy. Make me worthwhile.”

                “Your worth is the price I paid for you. Your worth is the extent of My love for you.”

                “That would make me priceless.”

                “Exactly.”

                And my mind jumped a couple of steps ahead. “That would make everyone around me priceless.”

                “Exactly.”

                “So that’s what I’ll do today.”

                “What?”

                “I’ll feed Your sheep. I’ll love Your people.”

                “Thank you.”

                “Thank You.” And I jump up off the savior’s mat and run back to my kitchen to begin baking.