Friday, March 27, 2015


I am coming through a season of fighting for gratitude. Well, losing at it actually. And wanting to walk in gratefulness again. It's incredibly hard sometimes! I don't know what happened, but I all of a sudden I looked and there I was sitting at the bottom of some dark deep muddy well. I was covered with slimy mud that smelled horrible. I glanced up a few times but decided it was too hard of a climb and too far up, so I settled back in and wallowed. 

What is that about? I've fought this gratitude battle for over 3 years (with the Mighty One actually doing the fighting) and been quite successful, if I say so myself. 

So I think I decided one day to take a good look at all I've lost these last few years. Yep. Good idea, huh? And as I took one step all by myself into this picture, it grew. And stretched out. And enveloped all who were looking. That was mostly just me, and of course my lucky husband who had no choice but to be a bystander. I kept my eyes transfixed on my losses. 

It was so so so ugly. I became so so ugly. My world became so ugly. It was not a pretty place to reside or to even take a glance of. The sweet fragrance of Jesus in my life turned into a dank swampy smell.  I may be in a slightly melodramatic state even now in these descriptions. But golly gee, I don't want to go there again! (Nor does the grace-filled husband who lives with me.)

Thankfully a snuggly nearly-3 year old and a smiling ear-to-ear 1 year old reaching chubby hands towards me snapped a rope around this Oma and yanked her out of the pit! They left today. 

So what am I going to do now? It's a moment of decision.....and I am choosing life. ("Choosing:" active continual present tense verb.) I choose the way of Jesus, to lay down my life and trust my Savior, the One who laid down His life for me so I could have real life. With Him will I dance. 

Sunday, March 1, 2015


I so enjoy settling in at night under our comfy quilt on our comfy mattress wrapped in our comfy soft sheets with Asher piled next to me or between us, sighing deeply his contentment. I enjoy settling and snuggling into my Christmas gift down coat and ear-covering hat and lined gloves on our way out the door for a 19 degree morning walk. I like to settle into my car with the seat and heat turned on high. I relish a hot cup of ginger green tea fresh off the stove, a cozy chair and a phone call with a special girlfriend. I like to be settled. It gives me comfort. Security. Rest.

Yet how many are never settled? Hungry stomachs. Unsafe shacks. Untrustworthy neighbors. Dangerous relatives. Poverty, war, today-slavery, abuse. It's too much. What can one person do? But to ask the God of the universe who owns everything, to come. To help. To rescue. To reveal Himself and bow down again to His creation.

I love to piggyback on the work others are doing. To join in the relief efforts and life-building channels they create to help those enslaved in diverse ways. To give a glimpse of hope and pathway to freedom.

Yet still, I often seem to pursue this place of being settled. Even knowing I live with such comfort. Sometimes I find it. Sometimes not. It's when I'm focused on Jesus. Listening to Him in His word. Looking up. Looking outside myself. Yes. That's the place. All else is temporal. Fleeting comfort. So like Paul, I am able to say I am content with plenty or lack, comfort or not, ease or disease. God....