The Burden

For as long as she could remember, even before she knew its name, the longing for approval resided in her heart. She tried her best to please everyone in her little world, chastising herself whenever she fell short.

Her longing did not go unnoticed. People named her "nice" and "kind." But it didn't fill that empty spot in her heart because she knew better. She knew there were dark places no one saw - things that would cause them to withdraw the approval she cherished if only they knew.

She confessed those things and understood they were forgiven, but her heart would not forget. She even began to correct people when they called her "nice" or "kind." Perhaps she thought the confessing would  be its own means to getting their approval.

Still, when she lay down in her bed at night, the silence and darkness closing in around her, she picked up those confessed things and felt crushed beneath the weight of guilt and shame.

She went on a Christian Retreat and packed the guilt and shame along with her Bible and notebook. She sat on the straight-backed chair in the large room and the lady began speaking. She had never seen her before, but she spoke as if she could see right straight into her heart.

When she finished speaking, she asked everyone to write down on a piece of paper the thing they thought could never be forgiven - the one they carried like a lead weight in a fragile heart. She took her little pencil and put the words on paper - the words that had kept her bound for so long.

"Now," the speaker said. "I'm going to collect all of the papers. Then, after you go back to your rooms tonight, I'm going to take every single one of them out to the big camp fire and throw them in. They will curl in the intense heat and burst into flame. They will be gone forever - powerless."

She could hardly see for the tears, as she walked into the night. But she walked lighter. Something inside had been released. A weight had lifted. In the darkness, she felt the light of His love and the warmth of His approval.

It had been there all along. She had only to open her hands to receive it.

"Let me not dwell so much within
My bounded heart, with anxious heed-
Where all my searches meet with sin,
And nothing satisfies my need-
It shuts me from the sound and sight
Of that pure world of life and light."
    Anna L. Waring

Joining Jennifer today. Please come visit. She has something very special to share.



Blessings,
Linda

They Sing

My favorite form of exercise is walking. It's the one thing I've been able to do consistently over the years. I confess, some days I feel too weary to put on my tennis shoes and walk out out the door, but once I get started I'm glad I made the effort.

Some days I walk with something streaming into my ears. Every once in a while I grab the camera on my way out the door. Most days my little stack of index cards comes along for the ride - my time to put the Word in my heart.

Every once in a while, I take my reading glasses off and step outside empty-handed. On those days I am much more aware of the sights and sounds around me. Especially the sounds.

There is the ever-resent sound of birds singing their uniquely beautiful songs. Even on the very gloomiest of days, their pure notes fill the air. A cardinal calls to his mate, and the answer comes back crystal clear and pure. A mockingbird perches on the wire above my head and proudly runs through his repertoire. The notes flow in and around one another. You can hear a majestic song of praise if you listen carefully.

I walk and wonder at their trusting nature. Don't they know the sunny day will be blown away by a cold front scheduled to arrive by late afternoon? Shouldn't they be flying around and doing something? Haven't they heard it will be a colder than usual winter? One would think they would make some sort of preparation.

Instead they seem to glory in the moment and leave the rest to a Father they somehow know is watching over them. "Why fret about the future?" they trill.

He has always taken care of them in the past. He is with them even now. He will be faithful tomorrow. Let's live this one moment and be thankful.

Joining my sweet friend Laura at Playdates With God.



Blessings,
Linda

Five Minute Friday - Small

The word for this Five Minute Friday is:

Small

start:

I am drawn to small things. Bouquets of tiny wild flowers are more apt to find their way onto the old kitchen table than a more flamboyant mix of larger blooms. Tiny tea sets make their way onto the shelves of the old hutch my father crafted. I hunt for little salt cellars in antique shops and flea markets. I cannot resist diminutive china animals and birds.

How is then I find it so difficult to find the beauty in being small myself. Oh, not my physical size to be sure. The me that resides inside. The self that prays to become less yet fights this longing for "bigness." The size that says I matter to you and your opinion of me is of utmost importance.

He, who is larger than anything I can possibly imagine, looks at this "bigness" stuffed inside the small and gently reminds me that I am perfect in His sight. Just the right size - even in my smallness.

stop

I'm hopping over to Lisa-Jo's to add my small post to the others. Won't you join us?



Blessings,
Linda

More Thoughts On Aging

There are many things we know, or perhaps think we know. It isn't until we find ourselves right in the middle of them that we realize we didn't know after all. We didn't know in the "living it out" sort of way. We merely gave it an intellectual nod.

I knew some day the picture would change. I would no longer be the child - loved, protected and cared for.  I didn't really understand the depth of such love - not until I held my own children in my arms. Then I knew. 

I knew the picture couldn't stay the same. It would grow and change as the years rolled by more quickly than I could ever have imagined.

I knew, because everyone said so, some day the roles would slowly shift. But I didn't know. A part of me thought this season of life, with its empty nest and unscheduled days would be one of rest and ease.

The little girl couldn't imagine the Dad who had effortlessly swung her up on his strong shoulders falling and needing rescuing of his own. She couldn't know the sadness of watching the slow slide downward, the heart-pounding calls late at night, a father weeping at the kitchen table, holding a distraught mother in her arms, the loss of so much that was once taken for granted.

There are blessings to be sure. The family gatherings, the stories great-grandchildren never mind hearing over and over again, the beautiful legacy of faith they continue to live out. I now know I must  cherish the moments.

Joining Jennifer today:

 

Blessings,
Linda

He Sees

The streets and sidewalks of this great city were quiet on the morning we took this walk, gasping for breath as we climbed one hill after another.

It was a different scene on the day we arrived, a busy, bustling saturday afternoon. The beautiful weather had drawn everyone outdoors, and it was hard to walk against the press of people all around us.

The air was filled with the harmony of different languages blended together into one lovely melody. The different races and nationalities formed a colorful human rainbow. We took a seat to watch them all walk by - so many of them - and I thought about the Father who knows each one by name.

You'll find me, and the rest of this devotional, at Laced With Grace today. Please come visit.

Blessings,
Linda

a repost from 2009

Five Minute Friday: Garden

Today's Five Minute Friday word is:

Garden

start:

The garden, the one I nurtured, watered and fed, has died. The blooms are gone and the foliage faded to brown.

There is little sign of life in this once flourishing patch of ground. But past experience gives hope. I have learned that appearances can be deceiving.

Although there is no outward sign of life or beauty, except an occasional weed, something is going on beneath the surface. The garden isn't dead. It is simply waiting - resting in the knowledge that soon the dead branches will be cut away and new life will emerge.

With time and patience it waits for the Master Gardener to send the sun and rain. Then life will burst out of roots which have been nurtured and cared for all through the freezing rains and dark, cold nights.

So too, my heart. In seasons when all seems lost, the Father is working. At just the right time, a new season will begin, a  season filled with life and beauty.

stop

Please visit Lisa-Jo's blog. There is something very special beginning there today. A way to bring more passion into your life.



Blessings,
Linda

Focused on Him

The gentle warmth of the morning sun slowly turned icy patches into puddles. She pulled on a light jacket and headed out for a walk. The wind carried the memory of yesterday's freezing temperatures. She tugged her sleeves down over her cold hands. 

She had gone only a short distance down the little country road when it happened. 

Her sock began to work its way down inside her tennis shoe. She hated it when that happened but tried to ignore the increasing discomfort. Now it crumpled around her toe and became painful. Mumbling under her breath, she reached down and pulled the offending sock up. 

She hadn't gone 100 feet before it had worked its way right down to her arch again. She considered taking it off altogether but thought better of it. Gritting her teeth she continued her painful walk.

She forgot her discomfort for a moment when she saw her shaggy friend Julie standing by the fence. 

The little llama often stopped grazing long enough to amble over to the fence to gaze at the funny people walking by. Hard to resist those elegantly lashed eyes.

Now her walk took her around the corner, the silly sock a constant annoyance. She looked up. Not a cloud in the brilliant blue sky. The sound of the ocean reached her - little sandpipers calling to each other. They skittered across the dormant grass as though they were back on coastal beaches. 

Up a little incline, around the curve and there they were. 

Coaxed out of their pen by the sunshine, the peacocks were strutting their stuff. They hunted and pecked, oblivious of their magnificence. She stopped. Impossible to simply walk past such beauty. No painters' pallet ever contained colors exactly like these. 

"Oh Lord," she whispered. "Your creation is absolutely amazing."

She continued her walk - down another street and then toward home. She had almost reached the corner when she realized she had completely forgotten her sock-induced pain.

"It's true," now she spoke out loud. "Whatever you focus on increases."

She made the turn into her driveway. "Keep me focused on You, Lord."

Blessings,
Linda

You can click on the pictures to enlarge them :)