Thanks for the birds...

One of my favourite scenes from the week was watching four lanes of traffic get stopped during rush hour to let some geese cross the road. I too had to stop. As I waited, I watched the drakes keeping watch over the young ones. And I looked at the faces of those in the cars who were waiting for the 50 or so birds waddle on at their own unhurried pace. It amused me to do that.

For the most part, there was joy on those faces. The farther away the cars stretched, the drivers grew more anxious - some strained to see what was going on. Others just waited patiently for the traffic to clear. I prayed for each person as my eyes fell on them, and then for those in the cars more off in the distance. "Bless them Lord.."

It took me a minute to recognize that mine was one of those smiling faces. I was late for work in a very busy week. Pressed. Again. But so taken by the moment that I forgot the next thing, and just enjoyed being. My heart welled up with thanks as I was reminded by Jesus, not to forget Him as I started off into my day.

It's easy to get caught up in things. I do it often. But far better to be caught up in moments of just being present, with Jesus. In a minute, I'm going out to catch the sunset in one of my favourite places. Enjoy the few moments left of the sunshine today. Feel the warmth on my skin. Breathe in an unhurried pace....and give thanks.

Favourite places...

This is me... with Mb'hati... in Kigali, Rwanda.

I wonder if I'd recognize her today. It's been two long years since I've had my feet on that red soil.

She was very ill the day we visited this Women's Association. We had some supplies and we prayed with her. I remember that moment especially. It's emblazoned in me.

Beautiful girl, being raised in a country that has seen more pain, more bloodshed than I can comprehend.

In this particular moment I was glad to be holding a little one, someone too young to remember the pain of those days in 1994, or even currently with the poverty that continues. She as yet didn't know much about the wars, or her history. She was just playing with my glasses and happy to 'talk' with a visitor. Expressing love freely...even through her feeble body. She, her mother, and her friends captured my heart.

The moms here also captured my heart. There is something that changes in the eyes of a person who experiences deep pain or loss. I saw that in the eyes of so many... those who survived, those who came back after....those who are still in far away countries as the relay their stories about loved ones who died too soon.

But, especially in this place, there are some precious saints that know deep sadness but who also carry with them the fragrance of the Holy Spirit. I feel so blessed each time I meet someone like that. Even when common language seems so hard to find, their eyes tell the story of the loving and Holy God who indwells them. Just as with deep sorrow, there is equally something unique in the eyes of those who have an intimate relationship with Jesus.

I don't always see that in the eyes of those I meet. But I look for it. When I noticed it, I rejoice. When I don't, I pray that Jesus will change my own eyes, so that I may recognize Him even better... (Mat. 25:40).

Mists on the River

There are a few spots near my home were I feel most at peace. When I'm longing to hear from the Lord, I often go for a drive to one of these places. Before long, I find myself sitting by a river. Sometimes I skim stones. Sometimes I just get quiet and listen to the birds and insects, and the sound of the river. And when I'm settled, I pull out a bible and pray. This picture was taken near one of those spots, on a very grey day.

Spring storms have stirred up a lot this year. But I still enjoy watching the rains, the lightning, and the mists on the river. In those precious wild gardens, I often feel like I've wandered into a secret place. And within minutes, the crush of the busy work day melts away. Soon, without much prodding....I find myself speaking words of praise to Jesus. I begin to thank him for giving me eyes to see this splendor.

Even with grey days, where the vibrant colours of summer are swallowed up in the mist, I am amazed at what we can take in when we stop for just a moment and ask, "Lord, what is here that you want me to see? Who was here or will be here? What do you want to say? Is there something you want to teach me? " Amazingly, Jesus responds. (He says he will, but it still amazes me).

Sometimes it's just a simple response. And yes, sometimes there is silence. But even then, I have learned just to enjoy the walk and see creation. These days, when I stop to examine even simple blades of grass, with their weak seeds and shallow roots, I am humbled that they know how to worship without effort. Simply being what they were created to be...blooming where they are planted.

I am not someone who worships creation. I worship the Creator, the Holy God of Israel. Not because His works are beautiful, but because of the incredible love that brought all of this into being. And that He gave me personally, eyes to see all of this... and to see Him in all of this as well.

Psalm 97

I pray that you, precious reader, will find places to get still. Where you can look around you, even on grey, or crushing days, and find peace. May Jesus speak to your heart, whisper through creation, and bring you joy.

Learning to pray

I remember being in this church, singing the Kyrie... with low, reverant voices. There is something about being in a place where many are gathered humbly, to worship. It was a special day. We didn't stay that long. But I loved each moment. Drawn into a still and quiet place within me. Learning again to hear the voices of the few, lifted quietly but with awe.

I also remember praying with a dear friend, just sitting with her. Listening to her prayers. Honest and raw...so beautiful. My heart grew so much that day.

Benedictus qui venit, in nomine Domini....

Roses on the path

A friend sent me this picture today. It was a beautiful image to see first thing this morning.

We've been talking about what it means to really trust Jesus. Sunday school answers don't always help, though sometimes I find myself returning to the simplest of words I learned way back when, like: "Jesus Loves Me."

I don't think I'll ever really fully understand those three words. Even if it takes me a lifetime to learn what others learn seem to learn so quickly, I'm glad to explore the hidden layers of what they mean for me, and for others I meet along the path.

The question for me, as my friend shared this picture, was how do I receive his love? It is freely given. Do I freely receive it? Or because of my own frailties do I miss it? Turn most of it away.

This morning, my friend simply shared from her heart the story of when she picked up this cross and found the rose. I cried. I'm sentimental at the best of times. But her words made me long once again to pick up my cross and find my rose.

I am praying for that again tonight.
(Psalm 84).

At home...

This photo is from my back yard. The tulips are long gone now and lavendar and other flowers are taking over the space they held this spring. But for the short season they were there, they brought me hope.

I had forgotten planting them last fall. In a spontaneous moment, I went to a garden center last fall to catch up with a childhood memory. That garden center is where my mom used to go to get any number of finds for her lovely gardens. I used to dread going there, but it was one of the few things that I remember mom really enjoying. So, on a grey day last fall, when I was needing to remember a happy family time, I bought some tulip bulbs. Dozens of them. It took me a week to plant them.

It was what I needed then just to get outside at the end of the day to plant a few here and a few there. I laughed with my mom on the phone as she gave me tips on getting the perfect depth and where to plant them. It was good to connect with my mom in that way. And it was better to be outside, with my hands in the dirt, praying....

I'd forgotten all about those moments by the time spring came around. It was a very demanding spring this year, for a lot of reasons. Much more than usual. So when I went outside and saw the rows of bright colours along my fence, and in this garden too, it brought a lot of joy to me.

What a simple thing. Stick a few bulbs in the ground. Forget. Wait what seems like forever for some warmth... and then, without any effort, there are beautiful spring flowers.

I remember coming home after a busy work day, and stopping with wonder. And felt the hope symbolized by spring: Easter Joy. Tulips, freesia, lily of the valley. All in bloom.

Jesus spoke to my heart that day. He reminded me that he sees all of the moments, remembers all of the moments we forget. Prayers, offered long ago, may seem buried. But they are not lost. In the right season, at just the right time, he shows us brilliantly that he heard us....

Exd. 13:4-10

Getting Started

Greetings.

Where to start....always the most difficult step is just to begin.

Thoughts over the past few weeks and conversations have led me through many deep places. My heart is one that is just learning to flow with words. So, this seemed like as good a space as any to capture some of those ideas and share them with those who are open to prayer.

But not all prayer is the same.

If you know me, you will know quickly that I love Jesus. He is my saviour, my Lord, and friend.

What you will find on these pages, expresses my heart in that context...for it is only through Christ that my heart holds any promise at all. Only Jesus. Always Jesus. Everyday Jesus.

I have travelled a bit and I love being in many different nations. Spiritual matters and expressions wherever I go, I find very interesting. But I hope always to be clear about whom it is that I serve, no matter where I may travel or what I may learn in the process.

So with that... let the blog begin. Amen?