Drummer Boy

So....this outstanding young man is graduating from high school and his extraordinarily proud grandparents will be there (that would be Steve and I).

It seems only yesterday he was a shy, little bundle of energy - bravely trying every new thing that came along while at the same time never wanting to be too far from Mom, Dad and the security of home. We held our collective breaths as he raced around on dirt bikes and rocketed over jumps at the skate board park. When he was nine, some wise person put a a pair of drumsticks in his hands, and he absolutely blossomed. It was readily apparent that a God-given gift had been unearthed.

It has been a joy to watch the gift put down roots in his heart and become an offering back to the One who placed it there. His deepest desire is to serve the Lord with his music.

Okay - I'm going to stop now, wipe away the tears and look forward to celebrating this wonderful ending/beginning.

Blessings,
Linda

I'll be taking a little break and hope to come back refreshed. I've been just a tad weary of late. Life can get that way sometimes.

My/His Plans

"On days when your plans are thwarted, be on the lookout for Me! I may be doing something important in your life, something quite different from what you expected. ...Don't try to figure out what is happening. Simply trust Me and thank Me in advance for the good that will come out of it all. I know the plans I have for you, and they are good."
"Jesus Calling"   Sarah Young

Last November I was closing in on 40,000 words, happily writing Matty's Story. All was well until I became my own inner editor/critic. Suddenly I couldn't write a single sentence that made sense to me. So, in typical (for me) fashion, I set it all aside.....for months.

I did what I always do - agonized, questioned, prayed, questioned, felt sorry for myself and on and on. A few endlessly patient friends encouraged me, and I finally made a decision. It was time to get back to the story. This was to be the week. Lots of consistent writing time.

This week has different plans. We finally have Physical Therapy appointments for my husband who has been struggling with sciatic nerve pain for months. That will entail trips to the V.A. twice a week - a forty minute drive one way. There is Bible Study, Volunteer Work, an emergency dental appointment, preparations to attend our oldest grandson's high school graduation. Our Sleep-Number mattress has sprung a leak. A new one has been ordered. In the meantime we will sleep in the guest room. And so it goes.

I do not do well when I have weeks filled to the brim. I like nothing more than quiet days at home. When they disappear from my life, I get sort of frazzled. Truthfully - very frazzled.

I read the words in Sarah Young's devotional - words that make their way into my heart in spite of the fact that I don't really like them all that well. I am a master planner. List writing is one of my specialties. I can easily drive everyone around me to distraction with my desperate attempts to control not just today but all the days to come. It is futile. I am way past old enough to know that.

I am also way past old enough to know Jesus is absolutely trustworthy and His word always true. He gently pries my fingers open and places His hand in mine. I follow Him into this week.

Joining Laura :




Blessings,
Linda

Comfort (Five Minute Friday)

Today's Five Minute Friday word is:

Comfort

go:
He is large of stature in every way - physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Well into his eighties, he has a quiet way of putting all of life's greatest difficulties into a manageable and wise perspective. He has known much sorrow and pain, but he has come through refined - like fine gold.

It is a comfort to simply be in his presence - to sit and listen to words that never stray far from gospel truth. There is little time for small talk that isn't encompassed by "deep talk." He has a way of brushing aside the trivial and getting right to the heart of the matter. With slow, measured speech, his words are soothing to a wounded spirit.

While all of that is wonderful, the words really aren't all that necessary. All that is needed is to step into the arms open wide embrace he always offers. To feel yourself enfolded in his great, strong arms and lean your head on his shoulder. This is comfort. This is, I think, what it must be like to rest in the arms of Jesus.

stop

Please join us at Lisa-Jo's. It is a lovely place where hearts fly free.



Blessings,
Linda

Change

My kitchen window, the one I gaze out of while doing the dishes, frames our neighbor's home. They have lived there for over fifteen years and the acres surrounding the house wear the marks of charming, elegant maturity. The house is hidden behind full flowering trees. Little plantings of flowers are scattered across the landscape and vines covered in pink blooms trail over the fence.

The three children are grown and gone and the only companions the elderly couple have are the the two border collies and the bashful llama. I met the lady shortly after we moved in. She was out walking, as was I, and I invited her in for a peek at our new home. She had her cane in one hand. I took the other in mine and we slowly walked the length of our driveway. We visited for a little while, then I walked her back home. At her gate she kissed me and said she loved me.

We didn't see much of them after that. The border collies, one quite elderly - the other still young and energetic enough to run along the fence line whenever she saw their truck turn the corner, discouraged visitors. Often I would catch glimpses of the little metro bus waiting in the driveway to take her to the senior center for exercise classes or of him returning from a trip into town. Occasionally our paths would cross, and we would stop for a little chat.

Several months ago I began to notice a change in the pattern. The two sons came and began clearing and cutting back the trees. We stopped to chat with them, my husband offering help. They said they were doing fine - would be glad when the job was over.

It was a couple of weeks later when we found out the father had passed away. I was so taken aback. None of the other neighbors had known. The family, evidently wanting to keep things private, hadn't said a word to anyone. As soon as we knew, we went to express our sympathy - talking over the fence, separated by the gate.

The property is all neat and tidy. The mother has gone to stay with her daughter. One of the sons comes regularly to feed the animals and check on things. I hardly ever see the collies. They must stay in the dog house - out of sight. I ache for their loneliness and confusion. The house, now clearly visible, looks so forlorn.

Joining my sweet friend Jennifer:



Blessings,
Linda

Stitch By Stitch

Much like an old friend, I can lose touch with it for a season. Other things take precedence, and it sits waiting in the back of my heart. In time I begin to feel a gentle tug, a calling to come aside and get reacquainted. There is a restlessness - a something missing. I pick up the threads of connection, and it is just as if no time has passed at all.

It may seem a rather overblown idea - this equating of knitting and friendship - but in some ways knitting has been that way for me. I find my comfortable chair, brew a cup of tea, and settle in. The gentle crisscrossing of needles through yarn brings a sense of peace. 

Before I sit, I spend time looking at patterns. (I have deep admiration for those who design them. It is a beautiful art.)  When I find the one I want, I quickly scan through the instructions. If I'm not careful, I am apt to get discouraged before I begin. They can be quite complicated, and I begin to doubt my ability to understand and follow them. Looking too far ahead is not a good idea.

 I have learned, over the years, that it is better to simply take one step at a time. Cast on the stitches; follow the instructions for the first row and then the second. It is hard to imagine anything good coming from the strange abbreviations and numbers scattered over the page, but the designer knew what she was doing. Every stitch has a purpose. If I follow the instructions just as they're written, I begin to see something taking shape.

 Sometimes I drop a stitch, or make a mistake in the counting and have to rip out some of my work to correct it. It's always painful. There have also been times when I didn't see the mistake until I was far along in the project. It isn't easy for this recovering perfectionist to overlook a wrong stitch, but I have learned that it's okay. I give myself grace and just keep knitting.

 In time, stitch by stitch, row by row, the dream becomes a reality. There are no shortcuts. Every little stitch is a necessary part of the whole.

As I knit I often think about the way the Father has knit each of us together while we were in our mothers' wombs. I then imagine Him handing the needles over to us along with the instructions for stitching together a whole life. We hold His words in our hands and wonder how we can ever do it. It all seems so complicated and hard.

He asks that we take it one small stitch at a time. He fills us with His Spirit and begins to guide us row by row. There are tiny mistakes and huge gaps, but there is mercy. There are times we just want to give up  and do it our own way, but there is grace. It takes a long time - a lifetime really - but He works it all together for good.

It will look different for each of us. We are all a unique design. But in the end, it will be beautiful.

^" For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."
Jeremiah 29:11 

Blessings,
Linda

The Radiant Path

"Now you’ve got my feet on the life path,
    all radiant from the shining of your face.
Ever since you took my hand,
    I’m on the right way."
Psalm 16:11 (The Msg.)

Rest in the knowledge that He is holding tightly to your hand. He walks before you and guides your steps and with you to keep you from falling. His radiance is all around you.

Joining my dear friend Sandy today:



Blessings,
Linda

 

A Measure of Grace

Today is my oldest child's 44th birthday. I could tell you the time has gone by faster than I would ever have believed possible, and while that is true there is something else I have on my heart I want to say.

We who have entered that season of life where the nest is empty and time has become a precious commodity, are apt to tell you things like, "Cherish the moments." or "Before you know it your little ones will be grown with little ones of their own. Be careful to choose those things that have eternal value."

Those things are right and good, but I sometimes fear they come with a good bit of potential guilt and shame. I want to put my arm across your shoulders, draw you close and hand you a measure of grace.

For those days when you finally get to lay your head on the pillow and all you can do is rehearse the ways you failed to be all you wanted to be- grace.

In those seasons of slammed doors and moody faces and never being able to talk without having it degenerate into an argument - grace.

During times of crises, when it is all you can do to open your eyes in the morning, let alone put your feet on the floor and walk into the day - grace.

For the time when it seems as though, despite your best efforts, it has all gone wrong and you wish you could just race ahead to better, easier years - grace.

His grace to fill in the places where you were found a bit wanting. His grace to somehow bring good out of the very worst of times. His grace to make it possible for love to win. His grace that holds the promise of hope even when it seems it can never be good.

Here is something I will tell you. When I say to my grown children, "I am sorry for all the terrible mistakes I made," they look at me as though they haven't a clue what I'm talking about.

Grace.

Linda

Joining Emily at imperfect prose today.