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.

Angst and a Sunday Stroll

After nearly six years of writing posts, one would think I had all of this pretty much down to a science - but one would be wrong. Periodically over the course of those nearly six years, I mentally compose a post in which I bid a fond farewell to the internet and more specifically my blog. I may have even written one a time or two. But being the wishy-washy person I am, I no sooner hit publish than I begin to regret everything I said.

While walking earlier today, my little mind was hard at work composing another of said posts. I have become thoroughly sick and tired of myself and my inability to do things in moderation. It seems I am one of those all or nothing sort of people. I either spend hours with my face glued to the computer screen or I shut it down altogether. These things ought not to be so.

I can't even make up my mind about this book I thought I was writing. One hundred printed pages sit on my printer and I vacillate between throwing the whole pile in the trash or trying to finish the story. I'm not sure how to reconcile wishy-washy with all or nothing. I may have a dual personality or something.

So.....instead of any or all of the above things, I'll share our lovely Riverwalk with you. For months and months I've been saying we need to go see the new addition, and for months and months we have not. In a bold move, I made a decision! My husband, who always knows his own mind, agreed.

We began our walk here, among the beautiful roses.

 There is something so restful about water, and when it cascades over rocks and bubbles and gurgles, it is magical.

The flowers are magnificent. I wanted to take a few of these beauties home with us.

This is a grotto designed by a local San Antonio artist.

 The fragrance from the Honeysuckle was positively heady.

 If you click on the picture, you can see a little Mockingbird perched next to the lamp. He (or she) was singing his (or her) little heart out. We watched "To Kill a Mockingbird" the other day, and listening to the  music, I understood.

 There were even flying fish!

 What could be better than sitting in the sunshine by the river on a beautiful spring day?

 Here is the grotto in all its glory. There are all kinds of hidden faces and figures within the design. It is fascinating.

 As we came to the end of our walk, we saw one of the barges making its way down the river.

It was a perfectly beautiful day - and so much nicer than all that "angsty" stuff in the beginning of this post. Sorry about all that. One of the very best things about friends is, they listen as though they hadn't heard it all a hundred times before .....because that's just what friends do.


Joining a precious friend today:



Blessings dear friends,
Linda

Choices

It takes me a long time to process things. There are, of course, initial reactions - but the depth of feeling, the thoughtful response - doesn't come for some time.

I've been reading and pondering and praying. I keep coming back to choices - to the impact even the smallest of them can make in a life. A slight jog in a new direction and the course of an entire life may be changed. Perhaps not all at once - but choices piled upon choices. If they are taking us in a wrong direction, can we be wise enough or strong enough to make the one that will turn things around?

And if we don't and  the worst happens and those choices result in pain and suffering to others? What is the just result?

Here is something C.S. Lewis wrote in "Mere Christianity" :

"I would much rather say that every time you make a choice you are turning the central part of you, the part of you that chooses, into something a little different from what it was before. And taking your life as a whole, with all your innumerable choices, all your life long you are slowly turning this central thing either into a heavenly creature or into a hellish creature: either into a creature that is in harmony with God, and with other creatures, and with itself, or else into one that is in a state of war and hatred with God, and with its fellow creatures, and with itself. To be the one kind of creature is heaven: that is, it is joy and peace and knowledge and power. To be the other means madness, horror, idiocy, rage, impotence, and eternal loneliness. Each of us at each moment is progressing to the one state or the other."

What do you think?

Blessings,
Linda

P.S. Blogger is having one of "those" days and refuses to let me post a picture. sigh.....

Usher in the Dream

In this season of my life, the one I imagined would be mine to live out hidden dreams, the pace has slowed, and I push hard to hold back the urge to hurry. Hurry to get through the necessary so that I can do the other. The irony is when I have finally conquered the necessary and rushed into the other - it tends to feel a bit empty.

It doesn't compare to moments spent walking ever so slowly beside her. I take her hand in mine to help her navigate the rough places. She looks up with a tender smile and says, "I used to do this for you."

It hardly measures up to slowing down a bit for a husband who put his life on hold to care for me. In the weeks following major back surgery, there was nothing for him but my needs.I remember his strong arm supporting me when I began to take those first tentative steps. How do we measure such things?

Dreams are lovely things. I have them still. Perhaps it is these moments, this slowing of body and soul, that usher in the dream after all.

Joining my lovely, brave friend Laura today:

 

Blessings,
Linda

My God Is Awesome

In the face of all that has overwhelmed us this week, may we lift our hearts and eyes to our awesome God and focus on all He is.



Blessings,
Linda

Our choir sang this song during our Easter Program. It has blessed me over and over again. I pray it ministers to you dear friends.

Trust

I will be writing at Laced With Grace tomorrow (Friday). Please join me there for the rest of this devotional

Thank you so much,

Linda


The small wooden music box sat on the floor beneath the living room window in our apartment – a perfect perch for a tiny girl watching for her Daddy to come home from work. Every afternoon I waited, straining to catch a glimpse of him walking toward home. Larger than life, he gathered me up in his arms and all was right in my world.

Written With Fear and Trepidation

I'm not at all good at writing essays. Somewhere between my head and the paper my thoughts get all twisted and nothing is as I had imagined it would be. Nevertheless, I'm going to try to wrestle some thoughts that have made their way from my head to my heart onto this screen. My heart feels the weight of them and thumps loudly while my fingers try to find the right keys. I'd much rather tell a little story, but this won't let me rest.

As a young wife and mother, I wanted nothing more than to do it all well. I wanted to be like the godly women I admired and be a blessing to my family and those around me. I read every book on marriage, family and being a godly woman I could get my hands on. They were written by men and women who loved the Lord and had a message burning in their souls.

In my imagination, I transport my sixty-six year old self back forty years or so and am once again a young wife and mother - the same one who wants desperately to be all God intended. If I were to gather together the books being written today by gifted godly men and women, I would get a very different message from the one I received all those years ago.

I am not here to judge which was the right message. I am simply going to share what I've learned over a lifetime of seeking God (and more often than not failing to do it well). When I read those books, I tried my very best to be all they told me I ought to be. It often ended in discouragement and feelings of guilt. I couldn't quite measure up.

It was during one of those seasons that I stopped the trying and became quiet enough to listen. I believe I heard the Father tell me to put those books, as good as they were, aside and pick up His Word. "If I can speak to them, I can speak to you child. I know you better than you know yourself. Let me give you words just for you."

And so it has been. I don't mean to say I never read Christian books. I have shelves lined with them. They have blessed me in so many ways. But I need the foundational truth of the living Word.

It seems as though the world is abuzz with arguments for and against - words beating up against each other and often beating up those who read them. I find myself desperate for His word to be heard above the clamor in my head.

There is a little exchange between Jesus and His disciples I had never thought much about before. He has just come down from the Mount of Transfiguration. He finds his disciples have been trying desperately to cast a demon out of a man's son. They are in the middle of a crowd, arguing with the religious leaders. And Jesus says:

"What is all this arguing about.."  Mark 9:16

Instead of praying, instead of doing what He had taught them to do - they were arguing.

I write this to remind myself more than anything. There are many words being written. I am a reader. I love reading those words, but I confess some have left me confused and upset. I need to line those words up with those I know are absolute truth. Only then can I use the words of others wisely.

Blessings,
Linda