Category Archives: life

Pentecost

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This morning I woke up earlier than necessary, and obeyed the nudge to take a long walk and talk to God about a lot of my friends who were on my mind. Last night on the phone, I told one of them that I don’t understand how it works or helps, but I WILL pray for her.

God and I have this frequent discussion and we had it again this morning. It goes something like this:
Me: I don’t understand why talking to You about these people changes anything. Do You just beam them a shot of courage or strength or hope or inspiration or whatever it is that they need, when I ask You?
Him: I’m not telling you what I do or what I give them or how I answer. I’m just asking that you talk to Me.
Me: Sometimes when I’m feeling unsettled, peace comes to me in gentle ripples and washes over me. Is that because someone was praying for me?
Him: Maybe.
Me: And when I ask You for things on my behalf or others’, You never make me feel guilty or selfish. It’s as if You like hearing from me.
Him: I do.
Me: And then I feel better, calmer, more loved. Is that what prayer is about?
Him: Maybe.
Me: And it seems that when I bring neediness and brokeness to You, that is an act of worship or praise because it’s acknowledging that I can’t fix this, but You can, and I think You like hearing that.
Him: I do!
Me: Maybe it’s ok that I don’t understand how prayer works because You don’t want it to become formulaic, and You know how fond I am of solutions and plans to reduce problems.
Him: You’re getting close…

Then at church, the first hymn was a prayer and the 2nd verse was one of my very favourites: Oh, bring our dearest friends to God; remember those we love. Fit them on earth for Thy abode; fit them for joys above.
And the next hymn sang: Father-like, He tends and spares us; well our feeble frame He knows. In His hands He gently spares us, rescues us from all our foes…

In Sunday school, the ladies shared prayer needs and I was asked to pray. As earlier in the morning, it was the same verbalizing of neediness, the same thankfulness/worship for His strength and perfect wisdom. Tears dripped off my cheeks despite (maybe because of?) the confidence and gratitude deep in my spirit.

Pentecost. Why does the powerful, infinite Creator inhabit His dusty created? Why does the Spirit fill and guide and intercede on our behalf with groanings that can’t be put into words? It must be because of a love that is larger than anything anyone can know.

I’m learning that part of prayer is acknowledging that love, and that’s what changes me when I pray.

A Space in the Music

Posted in life, music, words by

Sometimes the most helpful thing we can do is think of a truth and embody it rather than say it.

Not being a theologian, or not always being able to explain what/how I believe what I do, I am always looking for practical, tangible ways to live my beliefs. I believe that on this side of Eden, we cannot avoid pain. I believe that because of Christ, the Healer and Restorer, pain can be redeemed, even on this side of heaven. I believe that Christians’ highest aim should be to be as Christ to their world.

Hence, This article from “Christianity Today” rang clear for me in several ways.

It broaches the theological minefield of the subject of pain without offering platitudes. It uses the metaphor of rests in music as a way to be as Christ to our world. The sentence about embodying a truth without saying it is one I hope I can always remember.

Heavy Books

Posted in books, life by

Last Wed. I was at the Delta counter in Pittsburg airport, frantically rearranging the contents of my luggage so that they’d weigh less than 50 lbs. each. “Too many books,” my friend said. Too true.

When I returned to the agent who had first taken my bags, he waved me to the next agent and said to her: “Take this lady next. She had a weight problem.”

I couldn’t believe that an agent would say that, and I blushed even though I knew he was talking about my books and not me.

I as settle into normal life after living in the rarefied air of Bible school, I’m re-inspired to read. Lots of books. Ones I’ve read before, so as to become reacquainted with old friends. And others that are new, so as to gain new friends. I will not become overwhelmed with so many books and so little time as I always complained before, but instead, I plan to enjoy and savor and gain from every tidbit that I get.

Come to think of that, maybe it WILL become a weight problem.

What Lincoln Said

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I have been driven many times to my knees by the overwhelming conviction that I had nowhere else to go.

Lincoln is credited with these words, but these days they are my words. Walking up and down the stairways and in and out of classrooms of Calvary Bible School, I am love, love, loving this station of my life.

Even as I cry and wrestle with class material and tweak time to grade papers, and talk with young ladies on my couch or on a walk, and feel completely drained every night, I love it. And though I have searched long for formulas and answers to hand out, I am happy to find again that usually the answers we need are found on our knees, hands open, faces toward Him who loves us and for whom nothing is too much.

More Credit Where Due

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Several weeks ago, I posted the story of my sisters’ traumatic experience of being told at the the boarding gate that her airline ticket is invalid. I didn’t write the story to exploit my sisters, or to garner more sympathy for them. My purpose for the post was to alert Orbitz’s PR people that their customers were used wrongly and unfairly. My plan worked, and within 24 hrs, I got a comment from an Orbitz rep who wanted to see if she could help us.

The good news is that they’ve promised a refund for most of the ticket that they had said was invalid. Maybe Orbitz can be trusted after all.

And now, I’m off to fling things into suitcases for my flight tomorrow.

The Rich Young Ruler and me

Posted in life, Sunday School by

I approached teaching the ladies’ class Sunday school yesterday with trepidation because I didn’t want the discussion to degenerate into talking about money and selling all our possessions. Discussions about finances have their place, to be sure, but not in this place, at this time. We were looking at the account of the rich young ruler and the question he put to Jesus: What must I do to inherit eternal life?

Seeing this wasn’t a parable with a commentary, we approached the story as a story. I maintain that story is more powerful than doctrine. Story maps a grid, sets a compass for us, so that we can know what is truth and error, what is wise and good or foolish and reprehensible. An account by which we can make observations such as: this is what a foolish/wise man does, this is how Christ meets a seeker, these are Jesus’ life-giving words, this is how big God is.

So among the few phrases I under-lined as observations from the story were treasure in heaven and kingdom of heaven and with God all things are possible.

It seemed to me that these words were what Jesus really cared about when He spoke with the young man. He still does. He is concerned that our treasures are in heaven, that we focus on His kingdom, and that we never forget how He makes all things possible. In that light, money and selling all that we have are peripheral issues and not the crux of the matter.

I love Luke, and how He puts these human touches on Christ. Luke, the doctor and people-watcher, observed that the young man went away sad, and then Jesus became sad too. I wonder if our treasures sadden Him sometimes.

How quickly our treasures become tangibles like food and appearance. Or intangibles like ministry and people’s praise. He said “Your heart will be where your treasure is.” What is it that we feel we would die without? Is it Christ, who makes me His treasure? If He is my treasure, it will never be shaken or taken away.

We were fourteen ladies in the circle. What would happen if fourteen ladies met their world and went about their work with their highest treasure being their Redeemer and Lord?

Recommended Christmas Story

Posted in books, Ireland, life, words by

It’s been a frantic week of shop keeping and baking and carol singing. It’s been good, but frantic, and during yesterday’s duties I felt particularly as if I was moving in a slow, creaking gear. “Little smiles and little tears are all we’ve brought” was the line that repeated itself in my brain. It was my line, the only thing I could offer to anyone.

It’s the line from the poem “How Far is it to Bethlehem?” by Frances Chesterton. The line is the one Elizabeth Yates uses in her lovely Christmas story “On That Night.”

This morning I was part of the city market crew, to sell cakes, bread, and scones. I learned again that I am solar powered, and can sell things well. If the sun shines, anything is possible and everything is wonderful. And I can talk people into buying things because I’m enthused and happy.

Town was wonderful. I fell in love again with life and with Waterford City. The air was crisp and cold, and did I mention, bright? People met my eyes and smiled and/or waved and drivers were polite to each other. I rode the bus back to the bakery, to bake apple tarts and lemon tarts, thoroughly revived and ready to work for another week. This time as I worked, the little smiles and little tears were gone, and instead I sang and laughed and joked. Yup, I’m solar powered. The Romans used to call this country Hibernian. After 13 winters here, I understand why they did.

This evening six of us young ladies sang several songs as part of the carol service in St. Andrew’s Church in Dunmore East. It was a lovely evening of Nine Lessons and Carols, with a huge crowd of friends and neighbors packing the (drafty) pews. As we meandered out into the cold crisp night, I thought again of Yates’ “On That Night” and the magical, gentle night when the characters in the story left their prayer time, went out in the snow, and found what they’d lost. I hope we get snow now too.

Next week, hopefully things won’t be quite so frantic. I hope there’ll be an evening when we sisters can sit by my fire and take turns reading “On That Night” to each other. I love the wistful, gentle, worshipful story written by a gifted lady.

As far as Christmas stories go, I can’t choose my favourite between that one and “The Christmas Miracle of Jonathan Twomey.” Both deal with love and loss, grief and miracles, and have parts where I choke up and parts where I smile every time I read them. Do yourself a favor and read at least one of them this week.

From the Emerald Isle

Posted in life, My Book by

If you wandered over here via Dorcas’ blog, welcome!

About my blog: there’s little rhyme or reason as to when and what I post. Most of it is ramblings and musings about life, wonder, and God. Subscribe to email posts using the button on the right, or use your feed reader of choice. (Being a bit of a blog junkie, I LOVE Google Reader!) Nose around my recommended book list and pieces of advice to wannabe writers, and leave a comment if you agree or even if you don’t.

About my book: Unfortunately, due to some mistakes, it is out of print but not forever. Stay tuned here for news of the next printing. I wrote the book with a target audience of single women ages 20-30 because that was the scope of my experience and I didn’t think I could speak into anyone else’s experience outside of that. It has been most surprising and delightful to hear from many people outside that narrow scope. I love how God dreams bigger than I do.

I dream of a living a life filled with words and people, where no one needs money, and windows never get dirty. But I live in the real world (albeit a wonderful world on this clear bright moon lit night), and so now I’m off to wash dishes.

Giving Thanks

Posted in Ireland, life by

“Is everyone unhappy?” the child Lovejoy was to ask Vincent in despair.

Vincent said, “Everyone,” but after a moment, when he had thought, he added, “That doesn’t prevent them from being happy.”

—An Episode of Sparrows, Rummer Godden

For the last week I’ve been reading about people in the US who are gearing up for Thanksgiving. I feel far away and detached, an interested on-looker, fascinated by the movements and ruminations of people doing something I’m not.

When our family moved to Ireland in April of ’96, I was homesick now and then but the worst moment was on the first Thanksgiving Day. It had been my favourite holiday, because it was simple and happy, and now no one even gave a nod to it. I was devastated and felt sure that this was a heartless, cruel, God-less place to live.

Now, 13 years later, it’s ok. Thanksgiving as a holiday seems like a foreign entity, like part of another lifetime (which it is), like something I can be an observer in without being a participator. And, because I don’t have to be at work til this evening, it’s sort of like a holiday anyhow, only without turkey and cranberries, and I’m ok with that.

Part of the change of heart has come about because of the passing of time. Other people and priorities precede the importance I once placed on my favourite holiday. Now, Thanksgiving is something I try to observe daily.

Every night, before I let myself turn off the light, I harness my memory to eek out and write down at least one thing that I’m thankful for, one thing that happened that day in which I heard God say “I love you” to me. It is the best, most helpful spiritual discipline in my life. It is the one thing I urge everyone to do, and is required of my students in Godly Womanhood class. My Thanks Journal is a tangible record of many intangible things. It turns my mind to God instead of letting me dwell on all that makes me unhappy. It reminds me of God’s faithfulness and my dependency on Him. Sometimes I think a long time before deciding what to write but that’s not God’s fault.

Today I am thankful for:
-the toasty warm evening and sibling camaraderie last night at my brother’s house
-a pleasant job environment
-books and pens and my laptop
-sparkling good health after a year’s illness
-girlfriends who I can call whenever I need a sounding board and wise words
-Godly men who believe in my book project and support my calling to teach
-my parents who have ‘marinated’ me with life-priorities of love and service
-dreams and ambitions and plans
-grandfathers whose worlds are big, and who forged a path that led beyond their ‘back forty’
-God, who in all times and in all ways, showers peace and joy in dews of blessing

Today’s Slice: The Storyteller

Posted in life, My Book, words by

This evening I wept to read “The Storyteller” on today’s Slice of Infinity. It moved me deeply because I believe in the power of story–am overwhelmed with it really, because all my life I will be plumbing its depths–remember how other storytellers have influenced me, and tremble to think I can tell stories that influence others.

I loooove hearing from readers of my book. It happened yesterday again, (and I cried again. )I hear that there are some who don’t like my book, but that is second-hand information; no one has said it to my face. It is cowardly not to confront the author if you don’t like the author’s message–but I digress.

Back to sharing stories: it is in sharing my story that others honor me by sharing theirs. Then this interesting synergy takes place: we are both richer for having shared. Aren’t we richer for knowing and hearing the greatest Storyteller in the universe? I am going to spend my life and eternity sitting at His feet, listening to His stories.