If I Could Give

The time has come for giving gifts from the heart. We think of those we love and imagine the perfect gift. The one that will bring joy and say, without words, how very dear they are to us. We long to wrap love with pretty ribbons.

If I could give such a gift it would be:

• love that never fails

• peace in the midst of the storms that would overwhelm you

• hope when everything looks darkest

• joy birthed in sorrow

• healing for the sickness that knows no cure

• mending for broken hearts

• mercy undeserved

• forgiveness - no matter what

• freedom from the failures of the past

• a slate wiped clean of guilt and shame

• grace and strength for all of your moments

• faith to vanquish all your fears

• the breaking of chains that bind you

• rest from the battle

• songs to lift your spirit

• marriages made whole and families restored

• help in time of trouble

• words that are living and true

• promised never broken

• eternity settled

In and of myself I cannot give such a gift as this. I can only give what I have already been given. All of these and more are wrapped in the person of Jesus. He is your love gift. Given with love.

Blessings,
Linda

Seeking

Once upon a time, there was a son who had a longing in his heart for a special something. He searched for it close to home but couldn't find just what it was he was looking for. Disappointed, he began to look farther away. He looked at pictures and made telephone calls. At last he thought he had found just what he was looking for.

There were many miles between his home and the place he needed to go, so he asked his Dad to go along with him. He trusted his father's wisdom and experience. Besides, having company would make the miles pass more quickly.

After hours of driving they reached their destination. Alas, the reality bore little resemblance to the pictures and the fancy words. They turned around, discouraged, and drove the long miles back home.

Not one to stay down for long, the son found another picture of his heart's desire. This time they would have to journey even further from home, but they gamely got back into the car and set off. Unfortunately, this too turned out to be an exercise in futility.

By now the son had decided to set the dream aside for a while. However, another picture popped up. It was almost too good to be true - the exact image of what he had long hoped for. The journey this time would be more than twice the distance of the last one. Would the Dad be willing to go? Of course. They packed a few things and set out, the prayers of we who waited following them.

This time … this time the dream came true. It was all he had hoped it would be. He paid the price and brought it home. We all rejoiced.

This little story is a true one. So is the one it reminds me of.

Once upon a long ago time, a Father and Son had a dream. The dream - the wonderful, marvelous dream - was you and me. They loved us that much. The Son made the journey, but His Father was always with Him.

"For the Son of Man has come to seek and to save that which was lost."
 Luke 19:10

He stopped at nothing to find us. He paid an incalcuable price. And oh how He rejoices when we are found.

"In the same way, there is more joy in heaven over one lost sinner who repents and returns to God than over ninety-nine others who are righteous and haven’t strayed away!"
 Luke 15:7 

Blessings,
Linda

The Landscaper

Long before we cleared our land and long before the dream of a new home became a reality, there was Jo and Josie's home. Right across the street. Every time we drove by, I looked at the lovely culmination of years of care and hard work and longed for the day I could begin my own landscaping.

It was a lofty dream for someone who manages to kill every plant unfortunate enough to fall into her hands. But alongside that dream was another; one in which I sat at Joe's feet and learned the secrets that bloomed in glorious color all over his property.

The second dream never became reality. Joe passed away a year ago. Not long afterward, Josie went to live in an assisted living home - no longer able to live alone. The adult sons came and went - one staying occasional weekends. Neither with the time to cultivate and care the way the father had.

I clung to the lofty dream - researching, planting and praying. On pleasant days I worked in my little flower garden and looked across the road at the once flourishing landscape. The grass grew tall and wild, threatening to choke out the smaller flowering plants. Fruit withered and died on the branches. The inevitable weeds crowded around the feet of flowering trees.

The spirit of the home, the heart and hands that had nurtured beauty and life, was gone. Neglect had done its destructive work.

It has become a visual lesson for this heart that is prone to wander. Without the Spirit, all the potential for real beauty and fruitfulness eventually withers away. But when the true Landscaper is in residence, all is well. He is working, with great care and tender love.

Blessings,
Linda

Five Minute Friday: Visit

This week our Five Minute Friday word is Visit.

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The front doorbell rang. There they were. Just like that. Come for a Sunday afternoon visit. They brought gifts - lovely gifts - these friends from their Sunday School class. But the very best gift they brought was their time - the visit itself.

For two hours they sat, sharing stories and laughter. It was my Mom's idea of the perfect gift. A visit.

She has the gift of hospitality. Our home was the one where friends gathered, where missionaries occupied the guest bedroom whenever there was a need, where friends were entertained and meetings were held.

When we kids grew up and moved away, it was the place we returned - calling it "going home." Our children loved going to Grandma's house, and now their children find the same welcoming warmth. For it isn't about the house at all. That has changed over the years. It is her heart that draws us.

Ninety years of living have taken their toll. Hospitality comes with increasing difficulty, but it hasn't dimmed the joy she finds in a simple visit.

I go as often as I can. It is always a coming home. The welcoming smile; the open arms; the kiss on the cheek; the listening heart.

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I'm linking up with the community that finds its way to Lisa Jo's welcoming place. Please join us.



Blessings,
Linda

Yarn Along

I'm joining Ginny today for Yarn Along.

A sweet young friend is having a baby - a long prayed for precious miracle. I'm knitting a little sweater for him or her. They've decided to be surprised. I love that.

So white seemed like a good choice. I've made several of these little sweaters over the years and love the pattern. The last one I made was for my Granddaughter - the one who will be graduating from college this spring. Oh my - how time flies.

I've also turned to a familiar friend in my reading. I've lost track of how many times I've read Jane Austen's books. This time I'm rereading "Persuasion." I do love Ann.

If you're working on something and would like to share, come join us. Or just come admire the handwork or get an idea for a good read. Ginny's blog is a welcoming place.

Blessings,
Linda

Moment By Ordinary Moment

Yesterday was an ordinary Monday. We got up a little late (we retired folks seem to have a hard time getting up early and might be a little resentful if we have an early appointment that requires rising before 8:00 a.m.). I stripped the sheets off the bed, and we got ready to face the day.

Monday is grocery shopping day. I think I may have mentioned a time or two that grocery shopping is not my favorite chore. But I digress. The thing that makes it bearable is Abel's - the teeny, tiny restaurant with the water stains on the ceiling and worn linoleum. It is also the one with delicious home-cooked meals. If you're not an early riser, it's a given you'll have to wait for a table - bunched into a little group of other lazy (I mean more relaxed) people in the little space by the door. It's always worth the wait.

Fortified, we proceeded to the grocery store. When we returned home, we unloaded the groceries and went for a walk. It was a beautiful spring-like day. Not a cloud in the sky. Our little llama friend Julie watched as we passed her little piece of land. I often wonder what's going on behind those big, long-lashed eyes. She, in turn, may wonder why two perfectly normal looking people walk past her four times - never really getting anywhere.

I called my Mom while I walked, and we chatted. These are moments I cherish, knowing the immeasurable blessing of still having my parents with us.

After lunch it was laundry, ironing and fresh sheets on the bed. I know I'm a bit odd, but there is something so sweet about clean clothes, pressing out wrinkles and knowing we'll be pulling crisp, fresh-smelling sheets up to our chins at bedtime.

Our evenings are usually quiet affairs. We turned the television on, and I picked up the baby sweater I'm knitting for a dear young friend. I find it hard to sit without something in my hands. A few chapters in "Persuasion" (I dearly love spending time with Jane Austen even though we've had the same "conversations" many times in the past) and time for bed.

An ordinary day, filled with ordinary moments. There are times when I feel a sense of not doing enough for Him . My Monday certainly didn't change the world in the slightest, but I am trying to stop keeping a list of the "doing." Instead, I gave Him the day in the morning, and know He walked with me - helping me with those things that "so easily beset," and orchestrating my day according to His plan. Could it be that smiles, clean laundry, a telephone call or simple chores were pleasing in His sight? 

Blessings,

Linda

"And He Who Searches Hearts…"

My heart holds a secret. It is one we have tried to unlock, the cardiologist and I, but it holds tightly to the mystery.

It has been subjected to all manner of interrogation methods. Strange machines, looking for all the world like something from a Sci-Fi movie, have examined it from every possible angle. Electrodes have monitored its every beat. I believe if someone were to turn out the lights on a dark night, I would positively glow.

We have politely, if relentlessly, asked why it occasionally increases its tempo. It steadfastly refuses to answer. So we are left to wonder. There is nothing to be done.

I am in the process of memorizing Romans 1, 8 and 12. I didn't manage to get it all done last year. I'm still on chapter 8. There are five little words in tucked into the 27th verse that captivate me every time I whisper them:

"And He who searches hearts…"

The Lord, it seems, is in the business of plumbing the depths of our hearts. He doesn't need machines or monitors or electrodes. He simply sees. And nothing is hidden from Him. There is no secret, no matter how well we think we've concealed it, that escapes His notice.

However, there is no need to be ashamed or fearful. He looks with eyes of mercy and grace. The black blot we try so desperately to bury out of sight can only be cleansed when it is brought out into the light. There is freedom in the revealing.

He is the Great Physician. He prepared the 'Cure" for our scarred and wounded hearts long before we ever drew a single breath. Peace comes to us when there is nothing hidden, when all is clear between our hearts and His.

Blessings,
Linda