Post Category → faith

great is thy faithfulness

Like Mom, I’ve had this hymn a little stuck on replay for the last week. This morning I woke up with “Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow,” on my mind. And so once again, I sang it to Jameson — and to the Lord:

Great is Thy faithfulness, O God my Father;
There is no shadow of turning with Thee.
Thou changest not, Thy compassions, they fail not;
As Thou hast been Thou forever wilt be.

Great is Thy faithfulness! Great is Thy faithfulness!
Morning by morning new mercies I see;
All I have needed Thy hand hath provided
Great is Thy Faithfulness, Lord unto me.

Summer and winter and spring-time and harvest,
Sun, moon and stars in their courses above
join with all nature in manifold witness
To Thy great faithfulness, mercy and love.

Pardon for sin and a peace that endureth,
Thy own dear presence to cheer and to guide,
Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow,
Blessings all mine, with ten thousand beside!

I love to cultivate the habit of giving thanks for everything: the food, the smell of fallen leaves, the colorful tapers burning on my mantel… But I also love meditation such as this hymn inspires — the understanding that those ten thousand blessing aside, the greatest of all is the gospel.

Strength for today…

I am thankful for so many things, but this morning I am overwhelmingly refreshed by the thought that He is all I need. In Him, I have everything. Knowing Him today, and knowing one day I’ll behold His face — that is everything.

That is my strength for today, and my exceedingly bright hope for tomorrow.

He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. For by Him all things were created, both in the heavens and on the earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities — all things have been created through Him and for Him. He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together. He is also head of the body, the church; and He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, so that He Himself will come to have first place in everything. For it was the Father’s good pleasure for all the fullness to dwell in Him, and through Him to reconcile all things to Himself, having made peace through the blood of His cross; through Him, I say, whether things on earth or things in heaven. –colossians 1

i have been…

…eating apple pie, made yesterday for the last supper. It’s a new crust recipe. And it’s a keeper.

…thinking about David. How he didn’t shirk or doubt the will of God — even when it was obscure, ridiculed, and plain old dangerous. Even when it may have left him scratching his head and wondering if he really was in the will of God.

…listening to Alison Krauss. Again. When I listen to her, I feel like I’m supposed to: closer to 30 than 16. Yes, the days of Gwen are being left behind.

…spending a chunk of change at Target. It’s not much fun to watch them ring up the bill for things like, oh, saran wrap and garbage bags. There oh so many more fun things I could buy… Oh well. I guess this is life closer to 30 than 16.

…loving today’s focus: his future.

Having a vision doesn’t necessarily mean knowing the specifics about what is going to happen next. It has to do with sensing the general direction you’re moving in and having hope that something good is on the horizon. It’s knowing that you do have a future and a purpose, and that it is bright.

If the Law of the Lid is true, then I want a husband who is gripped, continually, by a vision of eternity and his destiny in God. That’s worth praying for, don’t you think?

pro-life or anti-abortion?

I’m leaving tomorrow for 10 days in Maine, followed by 10 days in NY. I’m not packed, the house is not clean (quite the opposite, actually), and I don’t even have a list of what I need to have with me when I board the plane. So I shouldn’t be sitting here, posting to my blog, but I am anyway.

Because after reading this earlier (I’ve got the link in the sidebar, too, so yes, you may have already read it), I’ve been stirred afresh to value life.

I’ve heard my dad say it countless times when explaining his plethora of children, or, more accurately, his heart towards having a plethora of children: He came to a realization 20 years ago that, while the Church was growing increasingly active and vocal in what they called a pro-life stance, they were really only anti-abortion. And God calls us to be pro-life. It’s one thing to not condone mass murder; it’s another thing to love children.

I loved what Jess said in her post — that the most important action you can take in the war against abortion is to begin valuing life. All life. I was challenged again to go out of my way to cherish every person I encounter, and to be the strongest voice of enthusiasm to every newly-pregnant mom I meet — regardless of how many they already have, how young their previous is, and how much their husband brings home.

I have so much in my heart on this subject, and am so glad that the Holy Spirit brought it the surface again, to challenge me and take me higher.

Jess also linked to Randy Alcorn’s top 50 things you can do as a pro-lifer. Read them and get stirred again to be active in the war against abortion.

But even more, be stirred to be active in valuing life.

P.S. There is so much more to be said on this. I’ll try and revisit it. In the meantime, share your thoughts — I’d love to hear them!

worth.

Sigh.

Somehow, today sort of ran me over. Broadsided me. Mowed me down. It was a hit and run that left me here, stunned, trying to understand how it could already be dinner time.

Where did it go? How did it slip through my fingers so quickly? How did it hit so hard, take such a toll, and leave me with nothing to show for it?

The baby fell into peaceful naptime slumber, nursing contentedly. It was then that I heard the whisper, clear as day,

“What a waste this day was.”

I smiled ruefully. Wow. I can’t believe I just let that thought pass through my mind. But I did. It was there. Dark and shadowy and real.

I’ve been around the block a few too many times to let it linger. Those sorts of thoughts need nothing more than to be immediately evicted.

Evict I do, determined to replace fable with truth.

Let’s see, I begin. Today was not a waste, because today I, umm, well, I made coffee. Right. Let’s see, then I well, took a shower. Yes, that’s good. K, theennnn, oh! Laundry! I did some laundry!…

Obviously this is not the right approach for winning this battle, as today’s accomplishments of a little cleaning, a little cooking, and a few diapers don’t amount to much more than that whispered suggestion of a waste.

I try another tack.

I look down at sleeping babe, the one who jabbered and played all the while I made dinner; who, when I paused to notice him happily entertaining himself, smiled peacefully at me and caused a prayer of thanksgiving to bubble up in me. This babe whose smile widened when I put on the ergo, who made me laugh when I realized how much he truly enjoys being on my back while I water gardens, pull garbage cans from the road’s edge, chop onions and garlic, switch the loads from washer to dryer. He gave me a bit of a run for my money today, somehow getting out of the starting gate with a bit more speed than I could match, but we managed to fall into our rhythm of mama and child. Sleeping now, I caress his chubby arm, touch his fat fingers clasped around a fistful of my shirt. His shortened curls shine like copper pennies. I breathe deeply, and know that I love him even deeper.

And I know that I can’t compute today’s worth, for I’ve lost track of the smiles we shared, the I love yous that were spoken, the little songs and scriptures recited. I think of the man who has been gone since morning, working hard when he likes it and when he doesn’t, because we need him to be our provider. And I realize again that the sum is greater than the parts: that dinner made, laundry clean, gardens tended, house tidied equals a home for him.

Greatest of all, there is One ever watching, calculating, adding, causing our sowing to bring later reaping — and there has never been a day in history that has slipped through His fingers. He knows each moment, each smile, each word and thought and gesture of kindness — and He says that they count.

And He’s always right.

thoughts

I realize that Jameson’s first day of school is hardly around the corner, but I find myself thinking about his education, and the crafting of this little arrow in general, quite often. I’m looking at my own childhood in a new light, from the perspective of a new mother. (Amazingly enough, my mom was that new mother when I started school!)

These two posts, written this week by seasoned home school moms, encouraged and challenged me. The bottom line I came away with was this reminder: You can’t do it all. You can’t have it all.

And those are very needed reminders as mothers navigate their way through a culture obsessed with education and well-rounded children (read: kids who play every sport and every instrument, travel with the speech and debate team, and are class president.) Add to that the surging popularity of home education and the plethora of curricula now available, and you could end up with a mom driven by completely wrong priorities — or at least pressured by expectations imposed by everyone but the Lord.

Home education, when done as unto the Lord, requires the same level of walking by the Spirit as every other aspect of our lives. It requires the same dying to self, the same willingness to eat this day’s bread, and the same cultivated contentment with whatever talent He entrusted me with. And four years away from the first textbook, I can already feel the squeeze that puts on me, as a mother who is full of ideals, hopes, and dreams for my kids, my family.

What about His dream? His will?

Even choosing a math program becomes an opportunity to seek first the Kingdom of heaven. (And isn’t that exciting, in the end, to know that such a lowly decision can become a sanctified offering? Isn’t it exciting that He is really that much a part of our lives? That the very Kingdom of Heaven is brought to earth in our schooling decisions? Wow!)

tres.

:: Coffee and mascara. I love them both. I have a hard time feeling truly awake when I’m lacking either. And lest I sound high-maintenance, I’d like to also say that they are pretty much all I need to feel awake. Coffee=breakfast. Mascara=make up. That’s it. That’s all.

:: While I was busy putting out garbage, Jameson found the cell phone. I could tell, because suddenly I heard a woman’s voice on a phone. I hurried over to see whose number he’d managed to dial (my sister in law? Lore?), and as I approached, heard, “This is 911 Emergency. May I help you?” Oh, dear! How on earth?? I apologized profusely, hung up, and thought, that’s it. I’ve entered the world of true parenting, where anything — anything — can happen the minute you turn your back.

:: This morning I wrote in my journal about the challenge to maintain zeal, as commanded in Romans 12:11 — “Be fervent [zealous] in spirit…” I’ve written this before, but the notion that zeal is for teenagers, and cool and calm wisdom is for adults is just hogwash. Zeal is supposed to be married to wisdom, but never left behind. And I need zeal.

With these thoughts in my head and heart, I read my mom’s entry for the day: Without sacrifice, there is no fire.

As with all other things, zeal cannot be “put on.” You can’t do zeal. The fire-in-your-bones sort of passion is a by-product of dying to yourself, of offering a living sacrifice, of choosing Him and His ways — daily.

So Lord, help me today to make choices that enthrone You.

Let love for You consume me
Let passion burn like fire in my soul
Let zeal for You consume me
Be my all —
Be my all.