Trust in the Lord

A friend who is battling cancer wrote this to me upon receiving our Christmas greetings and letter:

thanks, dear! I'm still working on ours...You are a brave woman. and you are in my prayers.

I am living another unenviable life. That of a wife abandoned for another. This is what I wrote back to my dear friend:

And you are in mine as well! I don't know how brave I am. I think that word is more applicable to you! I suppose we both are traveling a path we never asked for, a path we would not choose for anyone, and a path that elicits more tears than bravery. And yet, with His strength we see the sun rise anew every day. We see the Son arise anew as well. We grow closer to Him with each tortured footstep and vividly learn what it means to...

Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths. Be not wise in thine own eyes; fear the Lord, and depart from evil. It shall be health to thy navel, and marrow to thy bones.

Proverbs 3: 5-7

In Christian sisterly love,

Deb

At some point I had to start writing about my current life. I suppose this is it. Here is a Christmas Eve picture of my precious children who bring me joy and strength.

First Sunday in Advent - 2009

Thoughts from The Imitation of Christ by Thomas a Kempis.
The Third Book - Chapter 1 - Of the Inward Voice of Christ to the Faithful Soul


"Blessed are the ears which receive the echoes of the soft whisper of God, and turn not aside to the whisperings of this world."

"Blessed are they who long to have leisure for God, and free themselves from every hindrance of the world."

"Put away thee all transitory things, seek those things that are eternal."

Thank you, Lord, for speaking to me. I am clinging to Your promise even now. May I not be hindered by this world, but seek Your face alone, and expectantly wait for You.

The Dreaded Task

The basement weighs on my heart; some times more than others. And as cluttered as this looks, it's one of the better sections of the basement. Boxes, baskets, stuffed animals, old National Geographics, plastic grocery bags holding who-knows-what is bad enough. I wouldn't dare step back and show you a wide angle view.

I keep thinking I need to get the rest of the house in better order before I tackle the basement. But I think this is just an excuse to avoid it entirely.

I read this verse recently, and was nudged yet again that I need to begin my basement project. Maybe tackling the basement should be a winter chore after Christmas.

Some background before the verse: When the exiles return from Babylon and rebuild the wall, Nehemiah realizes that there aren't enough people to defend the city. He devises a plan to bring some people from the tribes of Benjamin and Judah to settle in Jerusalem. Nehemiah calls for genealogical records and makes a census of sorts, counting all of the various tribes of people.

During this census, there were six families who could not prove that they were descended from Israel:

They searched for their family records, but they could not find them and so were excluded from the priesthood as unclean. Nehemiah 7: 64

Now, this should make me want to get myself in gear!

"Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing"

The past few weeks, I have been humming this hymn as it pops into my mind. The author of the words, Robert Robinson (1735-1790), was an English pastor, first in the Methodist church, and then in the Baptist church.

Although hymnals print the name of John Wyeth (1770-1858) in the spot reserved for the composer of the music, he was actually an American printer and publisher who compiled songs others had written. It doesn't appear that he had musical or theological training, but he had a large collection of printed music. His tunebooks; Repository of Sacred Music (1810) and Repository of Sacred Music, Part Second (1813); may have been the result of a good business move rather than inspired by any religious convictions.

Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing

Come, Thou Fount of every blessing,
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace;
Streams of mercy, never ceasing,
Call for songs of loudest praise.
Teach me some melodious sonnet,
Sung by flaming tongues above.
Praise the mount! I’m fixed upon it,
Mount of Thy redeeming love.

Sorrowing I shall be in spirit,
Till released from flesh and sin,
Yet from what I do inherit,
Here Thy praises I’ll begin;
Here I raise my Ebenezer;
Here by Thy great help I’ve come;
And I hope, by Thy good pleasure,
Safely to arrive at home.

Jesus sought me when a stranger,
Wandering from the fold of God;
He, to rescue me from danger,
Interposed His precious blood;
How His kindness yet pursues me
Mortal tongue can never tell,
Clothed in flesh, till death shall loose me
I cannot proclaim it well.

O to grace how great a debtor
Daily I’m constrained to be!
Let Thy goodness, like a fetter,
Bind my wandering heart to Thee.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here’s my heart, O take and seal it,
Seal it for Thy courts above.

O that day when freed from sinning,
I shall see Thy lovely face;
Clothed then in blood washed linen
How I’ll sing Thy sovereign grace;
Come, my Lord, no longer tarry,
Take my ransomed soul away;
Send thine angels now to carry
Me to realms of endless day.


(Fort Hunter Mansion in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, above. It was built in 1814 by Capt. Archibald McAlister, about the time that Wyeth was printing his songbooks in the same town. It was named for the 18th century fort constructed near the site.)

"For All the Saints"

The words to this hymn were written by Englishman William How (1823-1897). An Anglican minister, he was appointed bishop of Wakefield in 1889. There has been a church in Wakefield for over 1000 years, something that's a bit difficult for us Americans to grasp. The Cathedral of All Saints in Wakefield, England, erected a marble memorial to How.

I would be remiss if I didn't mention that the music was composed by a fellow Englishman, Ralph Vaughn Williams (1872-1958).


"For All the Saints"

For all the saints, who from their labors rest,
Who Thee by faith before the world confessed,
Thy Name, O Jesus, be forever blessed.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

Thou wast their Rock, their Fortress and their Might;
Thou, Lord, their Captain in the well fought fight;
Thou, in the darkness drear, their one true Light.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

For the Apostles’ glorious company,
Who bearing forth the Cross o’er land and sea,
Shook all the mighty world, we sing to Thee:
Alleluia, Alleluia!

For the Evangelists, by whose blest word,
Like fourfold streams, the garden of the Lord,
Is fair and fruitful, be Thy Name adored.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

For Martyrs, who with rapture kindled eye,
Saw the bright crown descending from the sky,
And seeing, grasped it, Thee we glorify.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

O blest communion, fellowship divine!
We feebly struggle, they in glory shine;
All are one in Thee, for all are Thine.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

O may Thy soldiers, faithful, true and bold,
Fight as the saints who nobly fought of old,
And win with them the victor’s crown of gold.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

And when the strife is fierce, the warfare long,
Steals on the ear the distant triumph song,
And hearts are brave, again, and arms are strong.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

The golden evening brightens in the west;
Soon, soon to faithful warriors comes their rest;
Sweet is the calm of paradise the blessed.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

But lo! there breaks a yet more glorious day;
The saints triumphant rise in bright array;
The King of glory passes on His way.
Alleluia, Alleluia!

From earth’s wide bounds, from ocean’s farthest coast,
Through gates of pearl streams in the countless host,
And singing to Father, Son and Holy Ghost:
Alleluia, Alleluia!

(Photo of the spire of Wakefield Cathedral, formerly Cathedral of All Saints, comes from this website.)

Ora et Labora

Or perhaps more aptly titled, "Pray and Shovel." While clearing some of the Global Warming off our driveway this morning, I was privileged to pray for my friend, Kim, who is in surgery.

It's quite a nice combination actually. Not surgery and breast cancer. Although if the surgery's successful, it's a good combination, I suppose. But praying and shoveling, being the good combination. It's so quiet and peaceful outside. Perfect conditions for praying.

My son came out for a while to help. He's so tall in his snow boots. My little man isn't so little anymore!

We still have a bit of the Climate Change falling from the sky, and it's been going on now for about 36 hours straight. Funny. We often have flowers blooming when the candy beggars show up on the 31st.

May God bless Kim and her family this day.

(View from the back door this morning.)

By His Stripes

But He was wounded for our transgressions,
He was bruised for our iniquities;
The chastisement for our peace was upon Him,
And by His stripes we are healed.

Isaiah 53: 5 NKJV

The time for me to leave the abbey came. I had loved reading my Bible and studying it. Spending 30 minutes on one verse is a luxury I seldom take. I had walked a lot and spent time talking with my dear friend who was there too.

It's always difficult for me to leave. So I walked the road from the Retreat House to the Chapel one last time. Already late in heading for home, I chastised myself for being so foolish as to walk. 'I should have driven and saved myself some time,' I thought to myself. But there's something about walking that road and thinking as you go.

I entered the vacant chapel and sat in a back pew to pray, thanking God for the time there, asking for safe travel, and readying myself for the patience I would need as I returned home to a busy life.

I studied the shadows on the chapel wall. Usually stripes connote a jail cell or prison garb. Instead, His stripes and His blood deliver us from such a sentence. The bright red window above the crucifix creates a pool of red on the Chapel floor when the morning sun hits it just right. And although I much prefer an empty cross in a church, the juxtaposition of symbols was powerful on this early evening, and I didn't mind it this time.

By His stripes we ARE healed.

"Crown Him With Many Crowns"

The words to this hymn were written by Matthew Bridges (1800-1894) and then more verses were added by Godfrey Thring (1823-1903). Both men were Anglicans from Britain (although Bridges converted to Catholicism in 1848). Thring was ordained in the Anglican church and wrote many volumes of hymns. His brother wrote of Thring's many hymns, "As long as the Eng­lish lang­uage lasts, sun­dry of your hymns will be read and sung…and ma­ny a soul of God’s crea­tures will thrill at your words. What more can a man want? [Y]ou live on the lips of the Church."

Crown Him With Many Crowns

Crown Him with many crowns, the Lamb upon His throne.
Hark! How the heavenly anthem drowns all music but its own.
Awake, my soul, and sing of Him who died for thee,
And hail Him as thy matchless King through all eternity.

Crown Him the virgin’s Son, the God incarnate born,
Whose arm those crimson trophies won which now His brow adorn;
Fruit of the mystic rose, as of that rose the stem;
The root whence mercy ever flows, the Babe of Bethlehem.

Crown Him the Son of God, before the worlds began,
And ye who tread where He hath trod, crown Him the Son of Man;
Who every grief hath known that wrings the human breast,
And takes and bears them for His own, that all in Him may rest.

Crown Him the Lord of life, who triumphed over the grave,
And rose victorious in the strife for those He came to save.
His glories now we sing, who died, and rose on high,
Who died eternal life to bring, and lives that death may die.

Crown Him the Lord of peace, whose power a scepter sways
From pole to pole, that wars may cease, and all be prayer and praise.
His reign shall know no end, and round His piercèd feet
Fair flowers of paradise extend their fragrance ever sweet.

Crown Him the Lord of love, behold His hands and side,
Those wounds, yet visible above, in beauty glorified.
No angel in the sky can fully bear that sight,
But downward bends his burning eye at mysteries so bright.

Crown Him the Lord of Heaven, enthroned in worlds above,
Crown Him the King to Whom is given the wondrous name of Love.
Crown Him with many crowns, as thrones before Him fall;
Crown Him, ye kings, with many crowns, for He is King of all.

Crown Him the Lord of lords, who over all doth reign,
Who once on earth, the incarnate Word, for ransomed sinners slain,
Now lives in realms of light, where saints with angels sing
Their songs before Him day and night, their God, Redeemer, King.

Crown Him the Lord of years, the Potentate of time,
Creator of the rolling spheres, ineffably sublime.
All hail, Redeemer, hail! For Thou has died for me;
Thy praise and glory shall not fail throughout eternity.

(Photo of Wells Cathedral, where Thring served, is from the Cornell University Library's Photostream.)

The Gift of Time

Being at the abbey gave me time. Time to read and study. Time to compare and study three translations. Time to allow the desire to dig deep really take root.



It gave me time to jot down my thoughts. Time to read and reread, meditate upon verses, study, and write down thoughts that God brought to mind as I studied scripture.

If I could but carve out, daily, that precious gift of unhurried time in my own life back at home.

(The view from the desk in my room at the abbey Retreat House.)

Thus Have They Loved to Wander

Thus saith the Lord unto this people, Thus have they loved to wander,
they have not refrained their feet, therefore the Lord doth not accept them;
He will now remember their iniquity, and visit their sins.

Then said the Lord unto me, Pray not for this people for their good.

When they fast, I will not hear their cry; and when they offer burnt offering and an oblation, I will not accept them: but I will consume them by the sword, and by the famine, and by the pestilence.

Jeremiah 14: 10-12 KJV

This cow wandered onto the gravel road that runs through the abbey site. There were other places with better grazing, but he stayed here with two other cows for quite some time.

How often we stray from greener pastures. How different our lives would be if we would but graze where the Lord has provided what we need.

As I read Jeremiah I think that God seems to have turned His back on our country, just as He turned His back on Judah. For my children's sakes, I plead like Abraham, asking God to spare us for the sake of even ten righteous men.

WWGWD?

What Would George Washington Do?

I don't think he'd push for government run health care. Or Cash for Clunkers.

Maybe this will help you to feel a little better about our current congress.

"From the least to the greatest,
all are greedy for gain;
prophets and priests alike,
all practice deceit.
They dress the wound of my people
as though it were not serious.
'Peace, peace,' they say,
when there is no peace.
Are they ashamed of their loathsome conduct?
No, they have no shame at all'
they do not even know how to blush.
So they will fall among the fallen;
they will be brought down when I punish them."

Jeremiah 6: 13-15 NIV

Chant and Time

I'm listening to "How Lovely Is Thy Dwelling Place" from the German Requiem by Johannes Brahms (1833-1897). It nearly moves me to uncontrollable tears each time I hear it, so beautiful is the writing. So, while I wouldn't want a diet of only Gregorian Chant, I do enjoy listening to the sisters of the abbey sing.

This excerpt from Music of Silence helps me understand why. Author David Steindl-Rast, a Benedictine monk, strives to show how to "incorporate the sacred meaning of monastic life into our everyday lives."

Saturated with information but often bereft of meaning, we feel caught in a never-ending swirl of duties and demands, things to finish, things to put right. Yet as we dart anxiously from one activity to the next, we sense that there is more to life than our worldly agendas.

Our uneasiness and our frantic scrambling are caused by our distorted sense of time, which seems to be continually running out. Western culture reinforces this misconception of time as a limited commodity: We are always meeting deadlines; we are always short on time, we are always running out of time.

Chant music, on the other hand, evokes a different relationship to time, one in which time, while precious, isn't scarce. The pure, serene, yet soaring sounds of the chant remind us that there is another way to live in this noisy, distracted world, and this way is not as out of reach as it might seem.

Blog to Try

My husband stumbled onto this blog. I haven't read much, but a quick perusal looks interesting. You may want to try it, too.

Theology in Verse

(This picture of the church doors comes from the blog.)

Hay and Humbleness

"Monks, like those who farm or fish according to seasons and tides, are especially attuned to the language nature speaks, and they tend to have a healthy and realistic humility regarding their own control over the events of life."
Kathleen Norris

I was walking down the 3/4 mile road from the retreatants' house to the Abbey Chapel and there they were. Two hay bales on the road, with remnants of a third in the ditch. A closer inspection showed tractor marks in the gravel road, at angles that made it appear someone had tried turning around on the road.

The bales had not been there when we walked back from Sext (Midday Prayer). But they were there a few hours later, and there they stayed until at least mid-morning the next day.

When I first saw them, along with the road sign "SLOW DOWN," I thought of a funny caption. "Yes, even nuns make mistakes." But, at Vespers (Evening Prayer), I watched the sisters diligently chanting the Psalms, and thought of how at least one of the nuns in front of me knew about the hay in the road, and knew the bales needed to be moved. I scanned the nuns on each side of the chapel, each one looking as calm as the next. The sister who was responsible for moving the bales didn't skip Vespers to work on the hay. She knew that it would get done in due time. Her job now was to worship God. She had a "healthy and realistic humility" regarding her control over the events in her life.

That's one of the lessons I am always reminded of at the Abbey: slow down and keep your priorities in order. Don't put off praising God because of the errant hay bales of life.

Dewy-Feather'd Sleep

Hide me from day's garish eye,
While the bee with honied thigh,
That at her flowery work doth sing,
And the waters murmuring
With such consort as they keep,
Entice the dewy-feather'd sleep.

John Milton (1608-1674)
from Il Penseroso

While preparing dinner in the kitchen, I heard a buzzing that was loud enough to be detected, despite the radio playing. The buzzing was insistent enough to make me peek through the blinds, which were drawn to keep the sun's afternoon heat at bay.

Was it a wasp or a bee? I silently planned to check on it later. Dinner seemed the more important thing to attend to at the moment.

Later didn't come soon enough.

The next morning, I spied the forgotten bee on the window sill. Well, not actually on the window sill. That would have been more poetic. Instead, she was in the metal track in which the window slides. She had spent her last moments of life valiantly trying to return to the hive with her hard-won sustenance. I couldn't bear to see her there. A life all used up, without getting to return home. So I took her outside and lay her in a bed of golden flower petals. This seemed a more fitting resting place for one so driven to obey God's command for her life.

How often have I hurridly dismissed someone's plea for help, and thought, "Later..."?
Lord, help me to be mindful of hurts, burdens, and pleas.

"My Shepherd Is the Lord My God"

An unknown writer paraphrased Psalm 23 into a rhyming poem, suitable for singing. These words were put to the music of English composer, Thomas Tallis (1505-1585). Tallis, a church organist, com­posed Ro­man Ca­tho­lic li­tur­gic­al works in La­tin. Although he re­mained a Ca­tho­lic, Tallis composed music for the Anglican church, as well. He was one of the first com­pos­ers of Anglican sa­cred mu­sic to write in Eng­lish.

My Shepherd Is the Lord My God

My Shepherd is the Lord my God;
What can I want beside?
He leads me where green pastures are,
And where cool waters hide.

He will refresh my soul again,
When I am faint and sore,
And guide my step for His Name’s sake,
In right paths evermore.

Though I should walk the vale of death,
I should not know a fear.
Thy rod and staff they comfort me:
Thou, Lord, art ever near.

A table Thou hast spread for me
In presence of my foes;
Thou dost anoint my head with oil,
My cup, Lord, overflows.

Thy goodness and Thy mercy, Lord,
Will surely follow me,
And in Thy house forevermore
My dwelling place shall be.

(The link above will take you to the melody, as well as the printed words. I am unable to locate a source for the painting of Tallis, above. Variations of this painting seems to be the only rendering we have of him. It appears that the painting was modeled after an etching of Tallis.)

Motes and Beams

Excerpts from The Imitation of Christ by Thomas a Kempis
Book 1 Chapter 14
On Avoiding Rash Judgment

In judging others a man laboureth in vain;
he often erreth, and easily falleth into sin;
but in judging and examining himself
he always laboureth to good purpose.

"Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother's eye
and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?"
Matthew 7:3 (NIV)

"And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye,
but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye?"
Matthew 7:3 (KJV)

The King James version likens our sin to a beam, not merely a plank. I picture a lodgepole pine tree; not some puny 2" X 4" board.

We have a tree trunk in our eye! Several, actually. And we love to fret and complain about the speck in our brother's eye.

Dear Lord, help me not to unfairly judge others. Help me not to grumble in my mind over little petty things whilst ignoring my own faults.

(Photo taken by my son on the Texas Gulf coast. Notice that you can see lots of beams, but nary a mote.)

"Redeemer! Whither Should I Flee?"

British priest, Augustus Toplady (1740 - 1778), is probably best known today for penning the words to the hymn "Rock of Ages". In his all-too-short life, he also wrote The Doctrine of Absolute Predestination Stated and Asserted in 1769. Historic Proof of the Doctrinal Calvinism of the Church of England was written in 1774. In 1775, Toplady left the Anglican church and began preaching at a French Calvinist church in London. Toplady died of tuberculosis a few months shy of his 38th birthday. Quite sobering when one thinks of how much he and others accomplished in far fewer years than many of us have already lived.

Here are the first two verses of one of the many hymns Toplady wrote.


"Redeemer! Whither Should I Flee?"

Redeemer! whither should I flee,
Or how escapee the wrath to come?
The weary sinner flies to Thee
For shelter from impending doom;
Smile on me, gracious Lord,
And show Thyself the Friend of sinners now.

Beneath the shadow of Thy cross,
The heavy-laden soul finds rest;
I would esteem the world but dross,
So I might be of Christ possessed.
I'd seek my every joy in Thee,
Be thou both life and light to me.

(Photo taken by my son on the Gulf coast of Texas. It makes me think of Jonah fleeing via ship from his appointed mission to Nineveh.)

Anniversaries

On May 25, my dad had been gone for five years. Five years. Seems like yesterday. Seems like ages ago. I tried to write something. Couldn't get the words right. It still sits in my blog queue, with Draft staring at me in blue letters.

This past Sunday was our wedding anniversary. Twenty-nine years we've been married. Seems like yesterday. Seems like ages ago. Some of my childhood memories are still so fresh, that it seems impossible that I've been married longer than I was single.

Here is one of the prayers spoken at our wedding, back when we weren't even Christians yet. It's only one sentence, but there's a lot of meat in that sentence.

O God, who hast so consecrated the state of Matrimony that in it is represented the spiritual marriage and unity betwixt Christ and His Church; Look mercifully upon these thy servants, that they may love, honour, and cherish each other, and so live together in faithfulness and patience, in wisdom and true godliness, that their home may be a haven of blessing and of peace; through the same Jesus Christ our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Spirit ever, one God, world without end. Amen.

The Form of Solemnization of Matrimony
Book of Common Prayer

Met Outside the Door

Excerpts from The Imitation of Christ by Thomas a Kempis
Book 1 Chapter 13
Of Resisting Temptation

So long as we live in the world, we cannot be without trouble and trial.

No man is so perfect in holiness that he hath never temptations, nor can we ever be wholly free from them.

[Through temptations] we are humbled, purified, instructed.

Nevertheless, we must watch, especially in the beginnings of temptation; for then is the foe the more easily mastered, when he is not suffered to enter within the mind, but is met outside the door as soon as he hath knocked.

The longer a man delayeth his resistance, the weaker he groweth, and the stronger groweth the enemy against him.

(The photo was taken by my son while he was in Texas recently. I don't have one of a closed door, but I thought that the trestle blocking the tracks conveys a similar impediment.)

And Yet...

I took this picture with my cell phone while on a walk after dinner. It doesn't begin to do justice to the mountains or the sky I saw. While the sun slowly set, I marveled over each new color change, and each ray shooting out from under the clouds. I saw bold colors, then a bright golden disk where the sun slipped behind the mountains, and finally, God's watercolor painting framing the darkened peaks in the distance.

One of Sunday's scripture readings was from 2 Corinthians 6. Paul concludes his list of hardships encountered by writing, "...having nothing, and yet possessing everything."

You can drive an old car, wear out-of-date clothes, pine for new flooring in the kitchen, and pray that the hot water heater hangs in there for one more year. Yet, no matter who you are, you can walk outside your door and see the same sky and the same sunset as the richest person in town. But that's not even the best part. We can marvel at God's grace and mercy to us while we were yet sinners.

We have nothing, and yet possess everything!

"For the Fruit of All Creation"

And He said, "Whereunto shall we liken the kingdom of God? or with what comparison shall we compare it?
It is like a grain of mustard seed, which, when it is sown in the earth, is less than all the seeds that be in the earth:
But when it is sown, it groweth up, and becometh greater than all herbs, and shooteth out great branches; so that the fowls of the air may lodge under the shadow of it."

Mark 4: 30-32 KJV

The contemporary (1970) lyrics of this hymn are added to the melody which I know as the lullaby, "All Through the Night". The lullaby's tune, "Ar Hyd y Nos", is a popular Welsh folk song first recorded in a 1784 book of Welsh songs.

For the Fruit of All Creation

For the fruit of all creation,
thanks be to God.
gifts bestowed on every nation,
thanks be to God.
For the plowing, sowing, reaping,
silent growth while we are sleeping,
future needs in earth's safekeeping,
thanks be to God.

(For all verses of this hymn, click on the hymn link. Photo above is a close up of a mustard flower. There is a photo of a man standing next to a mustard plant here.)

Swirling Winds of Life

I think my brain is mush.

We get so caught up in the culture of our time and place. (Think: magazine covers in the supermarket line, basketball finals, new Rockies baseball manager, movies, Obama's latest apology tour to Europe, etc.) We forget the "real" world. The world out there, that is hurting, wounded, and in need of the Savior.

This past Sunday, we had a visit at church from a missionary from Free Burma Rangers. They minister to the displaced ethnic peoples of Burma. He was accompanied by about 50 refugees from Burma who now live in Denver. They sang some hymns in their native Karen language. We also saw pictures of Burmese people running from the occupying army. They carried everything they owned in large baskets strapped to their backs. Sobering.

Just found out yesterday, my mom may have cancer in her bone marrow.

I was rear-ended by a car yesterday on my way home from taking my mom to the doctor. Neck is a little sore.

This afternoon we watched a funnel cloud forming in the skies north of us. I've never seen the funnel cloud actually swirling like that before. The funnel went horizontally and never came close to touching down, but it was awesome anyway. It makes you feel quite insignificant and in awe of God's creation and power to see such a sight.

I found out tonight that one of my brothers probably had two strokes last weekend. He's only 52 and not a Christian.


On a lighter note, but monumental in our immediate lives nonetheless: our almost fifteen year old son is now being texted by two girls from church. Literally overnight, he's entered the world of boy-girl stuff. We weren't ready for that!

Both kids were gone tonight (sleepovers), and my sweet husband agreed to watch Sense and Sensibility with me. (HIS idea! Theater version with Emma Thompson and Hugh Grant.) It was a nice diversion from the turmoil in my life.

I'd appreciate prayers for my brother, Scott, his wife and three children. They live in Ireland. Quite a ways from me in Colorado. Hopefully, he will soon be released from the hospital in Dublin.

I know that God is always in control. He is always with me. I seek to do His will.

(Photo comes from the web--taken this afternoon by newspaper photographer, David Jennings. This is the tornado we saw.)

"Come Down, O Love Divine"

Pentecost Sunday

This hymn was written by Bi­an­co of Si­e­na (?-1434). It was put to a melody by the English composer, Ralph (pronounced Rayf) Vaughn Williams (1872-1958). Williams' father was a vicar and his mother was the great-granddaughter of the potter Josiah Wedgwood.

"Come Down, O Love Divine"

Come down, O love divine, seek Thou this soul of mine,
And visit it with Thine own ardor glowing.
O Comforter, draw near, within my heart appear,
And kindle it, Thy holy flame bestowing.

O let it freely burn, til earthly passions turn
To dust and ashes in its heat consuming;
And let Thy glorious light shine ever on my sight,
And clothe me round, the while my path illuming.

Let holy charity mine outward vesture be,
And lowliness become mine inner clothing;
True lowliness of heart, which takes the humbler part,
And o’er its own shortcomings weeps with loathing.

And so the yearning strong, with which the soul will long,
Shall far outpass the power of human telling;
For none can guess its grace, till he become the place
Wherein the Holy Spirit makes His dwelling.
(photo of Williams as a young man)

"Hail the Day That Sees Him Rise"

Ascension Sunday

This is one of the over 6000 hymns written by Charles Wesley (1707-1788). Although it's long, I have reprinted the lyrics in full, as brother John Wesley requested in the preface to the 1799 Methodist hymnal.

Robert Williams (1782-1818), who wrote the melody used for this hymn, was a blind basket maker from Wales. The tune is named Llanfair, and some speculate that it is named for Wil­liams’ home town of Llan­fair­pwll­gwyn­gyll­go­gerychwyrn­drob­wllllandt­ysil­iog­og­o­goch. In Eng­lish, it translates to “church of St. Mary in the hollow of white ha­zel near the ra­pid whirl­pool of the Church of St. Tysil­lio by the red cave.”

"Hail the Day That Sees Him Rise"

Hail the day that sees Him rise, Alleluia!
To His throne above the skies, Alleluia!
Christ, awhile to mortals given, Alleluia!
Reascends His native heaven, Alleluia!

There the glorious triumph waits, Alleluia!
Lift your heads, eternal gates, Alleluia!
Christ hath conquered death and sin, Alleluia!
Take the King of glory in, Alleluia!

Circled round with angel powers, Alleluia!
Their triumphant Lord, and ours, Alleluia!
Conqueror over death and sin, Alleluia!
“Take the King of glory in! Alleluia!”

Him though highest Heav’n receives, Alleluia!
Still He loves the earth He leaves, Alleluia!
Though returning to His throne, Alleluia!
Still He calls mankind His own, Alleluia!

See! He lifts His hands above, Alleluia!
See! He shows the prints of love, Alleluia!
Hark! His gracious lips bestow, Alleluia!
Blessings on His church below, Alleluia!

Still for us His death He pleads, Alleluia!
Prevalent He intercedes, Alleluia!
Near Himself prepares our place, Alleluia!
Harbinger of human race, Alleluia!

Master, (will we ever say), Alleluia!
Taken from our head to day, Alleluia!
See Thy faithful servants, see, Alleluia!
Ever gazing up to Thee, Alleluia!

Grant, though parted from our sight, Alleluia!
Far above yon azure height, Alleluia!
Grant our hearts may thither rise, Alleluia!
Seeking Thee beyond the skies, Alleluia!

Ever upward let us move, Alleluia!
Wafted on the wings of love, Alleluia!
Looking when our Lord shall come, Alleluia!
Longing, gasping after home, Alleluia!

There we shall with Thee remain, Alleluia!
Partners of Thy endless reign, Alleluia!
There Thy face unclouded see, Alleluia!
Find our heaven of heavens in Thee, Alleluia!

Resting Wholly Upon God

Excerpts from The Imitation of Christ by Thomas a Kempis
Book 1 Chapter 12
Of the Uses of Adversity

It is good for us that we sometimes have sorrows and adversities, for they often make a man lay to heart that he...not put his trust in any worldly thing.
...a man ought to rest wholly upon God.

I just returned Sunday from a week in West Virginia. My younger brother broke his femur in late February and was hospitalized for a month and a half. My mom went to help him, broke two vertebrae in her back and had to have surgery.

I fretted with deciding about going. What would happen to our daughter? She was frantic about me flying, and being away from her. When would be the best time to go? Who needed the most help and when? Could I get my mother to fly back with me? What would we do with her car that was in West Virginia?

There were so many questions, and I didn't know the answers to any of them! I prayed. I had friends pray. I read my Bible. I prayed some more. I tried to rest in Him. Truth be told, I fretted more than rested, and didn't see an easy way to solve all the problems.

But, I went anyway, hoping to solve a few of the questions that had perplexed me for days. I went to help my brother and mother with their immediate needs. I finally realized I couldn't solve every problem. I just had to focus on what needed to be done now. And then, God, in His infinite mercy and grace, solved EVERYTHING else, too! It didn't work out as I suspected, but He worked it all out. It still seems like a dream. But it's all very real and mysterious and amazing.

Thank you, Lord, for adversity. And thank you for praying friends, mercy, and answers to questions in ways we could never imagine.

(Photo of a West Virginia forest comes from
this website. When you drive down the hill from the airport in Charleston, you are welcomed by a beautiful wooded area similar to the photo above.)

Transitory Things

Excerpts from The Imitation of Christ by Thomas a Kempis
Book 1 Chapter 11
Of Seeking Peace of Mind and of Spiritual Progress

We may enjoy abundance of peace if we refrain from busying ourselves with the sayings and doings of others, and things which concern not ourselves. How can he abide a long time in peace who occupieth himself with other men's matters, and with things without himself, and meanwhile payeth little or rare heed to the self within?...We are too much occupied with our own affections, and too anxious about transitory things.

Standing in line this afternoon, I was reminded of the assault of the celebrities in the grocery store check-out lanes. The cover of one periodical pronounces that Brad has been kicked out of the house. Another opines that Angelina is pregnant and they are planning their fabulous wedding. Stars without make-up. Stars with tons of make-up and touched up photos. Unfaithful spouses. Divorces. Diets. Dating. Not dating. On and on...

You know what? I! Don't! Care!

You think I want to know Drew Barrymore's opinion on...anything?

Nope.

Just sell me some clean, healthy food that I can take home to my family. And please don't make me explain what a le*bian is to my daughter while we wait in the check-out line.

Yet another reason to grow your own groceries.

And a Battery

Easter Sunday I sat with some of the little ones as they ate their snacks after the service. One little girl in particular was very talkative. She had on her new Easter dress and was quite proud of her new little pink purse. While she carried her food to the table, I carried her purse. (Which was quite heavy, by the way!)

Adrianna: See my new purse?

Me: It's very pretty! I like the pink color, and the sequins.
What do you have in your purse?

Adrianna: Some lipstick. And some bubble bath.

Me: Those are good things to have with you.

Adrianna: And a battery.

Me: Why do you have a battery?

Adrianna: Because I like batteries!

There you have it. Out of the mouth of a pre-schooler. The three essentials to carry in your purse.

On Easter Sunday, why not carry bubble bath in your purse?! Jesus washed away our sins by His death and resurrection. We are made clean through Him. As for the battery, I suppose you can say it signifies that we get our energy from Him. We are a useless shell that doesn't work without Him to fuel us.

And the lipstick? It reminds us that no matter how much we try to gussie ourselves up, God see us for who we truly are. He sees into the depths of our souls. And He died for us anyway. He died for us BECAUSE of those things!

"Christ Jesus Lay in Death's Strong Bands"

I happened upon this Easter hymn while perusing a hymnal from my collection. Words by Martin Luther (1483-1546), and music adapted and harmonized by Bach (1685-1750) from a German melody written in 1524. How can you go wrong? It's a bit difficult to sing on the first go around, even with the music in front of you, but it's worth listening to.

"Christ Jesus Lay in Death's Strong Bands"

Christ Jesus lay in death’s strong bands,
For our offenses given;
But now at God’s right hand He stands,
And brings us life from Heaven.
Wherefore let us joyful be,
And sing to God right thankfully
Loud songs of Alleluia! Alleluia!

Here the true Paschal Lamb we see,
Whom God so freely gave us;
He died on the accursed tree—
So strong His love!—to save us.
See, His blood doth mark our door;
Faith points to it, Death passes over,
And Satan cannot harm us. Alleluia!

So let us keep the festival
Where to the Lord invites us;
Christ is Himself the joy of all,
The Sun that warms and lights us.
By His grace He doth impart
Eternal sunshine to the heart;
The night of sin is ended! Alleluia!

You can go here to listen to the wonderful melody and read all of the verses. Unfortunately, I think there's a wrong note in the next to last measure, so you'll have to overlook that. Also, just be forewarned that there is a painting a bit of the way down the page. It's of Jesus in the tomb, with two disciples looking at Him. As long as you're ready for it, I suppose it isn't quite so startling.

Unexpected Surprises

My dad would have been 81 today. He's been gone from this world now for nearly five years. One of my brothers remarked just yesterday that it seems far longer. It feels that way for me, too.

I still have mostly good memories and for that I am thankful. Time has a way of softening the rough edges of the bad memories. One of my good memories involves Dad and I shopping at a bookstore for a birthday present for my older brother. Dad bought me a paperback copy of Jane Eyre (for 95 cents!). That was something that never happened in our family; receiving a gift on the day of another siblings' birthday. It was so amazing, in fact, that I wrote on the title page, below my name: Oct. 16, 1967. I was 12, and the book was too hard for me just yet, but a little over a year later, I read the book and fell in love with it. It was bittersweet reading, however. Mom and Dad had just separated a few weeks before.

Dad's Christmas cactus just bloomed yesterday. A few years ago it bloomed on the anniversary of his passing. I don't think plants understand calendars or anniversaries of any kind. But God sure does.

(I took a photo of the cactus, but don't know how to get it onto the computer. I'll try to get it added to this post soon. And just a little aside. Interestingly, I found out later that Jane Eyre was published on October 16, 1847.)

"Christ The Lord Is Risen Today!"

"Christ The Lord Is Risen Today!"

Christ, the Lord, is risen today, Alleluia!
Sons of men and angels say, Alleluia!
Raise your joys and triumphs high, Alleluia!
Sing, ye heavens, and earth, reply, Alleluia!

Love’s redeeming work is done, Alleluia!
Fought the fight, the battle won, Alleluia!
Lo! the Sun’s eclipse is over, Alleluia!
Lo! He sets in blood no more, Alleluia!

Vain the stone, the watch, the seal, Alleluia!
Christ hath burst the gates of hell, Alleluia!
Death in vain forbids His rise, Alleluia!
Christ hath opened paradise, Alleluia!

Lives again our glorious King, Alleluia!
Where, O death, is now thy sting? Alleluia!
Once He died our souls to save, Alleluia!
Where thy victory, O grave? Alleluia!

Soar we now where Christ hath led, Alleluia!
Following our exalted Head, Alleluia!
Made like Him, like Him we rise, Alleluia!
Ours the cross, the grave, the skies, Alleluia!

Hail, the Lord of earth and Heaven, Alleluia!
Praise to Thee by both be given, Alleluia!
Thee we greet triumphant now, Alleluia!
Hail, the resurrection, thou, Alleluia!

King of glory, Soul of bliss, Alleluia!
Everlasting life is this, Alleluia!
Thee to know, Thy power to prove, Alleluia!
Thus to sing and thus to love, Alleluia!

Hymns of praise then let us sing, Alleluia!
Unto Christ, our heavenly King, Alleluia!
Who endured the cross and grave, Alleluia!
Sinners to redeem and save. Alleluia!

But the pains that He endured, Alleluia!
Our salvation have procured, Alleluia!
Now above the sky He’s King, Alleluia!
Where the angels ever sing. Alleluia!

Jesus Christ is risen today, Alleluia!
Our triumphant holy day, Alleluia!
Who did once upon the cross, Alleluia!
Suffer to redeem our loss. Alleluia!

(The drawing above is of the Foundry Chapel in London. Originally, an old iron foundry used to make artillery, the building was remodeled for use as a chapel. John Wesley’s words for this hymn were writ­ten for use at the first wor­ship ser­vice at this Wes­ley­an Chap­el.)

"All Glory, Laud, and Honor"

The tune for this Palm Sunday hymn was written by St. Theodolph (760-821), the well-loved Bishop of Orleans, France. When Emperor Charlemagne died in 814, his son and successor (Louis I the Pious) had Theodulph imprisoned. A legend arose that a short time before the bishop's death in 821, Louis was in the area where the bishop was imprisoned. As he passed under Theodulph's cell, the emperor heard singing and worshipping coming from the bishop's cell. When the emperor heard this tune being sung, he was so moved by it that he immediately ordered the bishop's release.

All Glory, Laud, and Honor


Refrain:
All glory, laud, and honor,
to thee, Redeemer, King,
to whom the lips of children
made sweet hosannas ring.

1. Thou art the King of Israel,
thou David's royal Son,
who in the Lord's name comest,
the King and Blessed One.

(Go to the link above to see all verses.)

The Imitation of Christ - Part 10

Excerpts from The Imitation of Christ - Thomas a Kempis
Book 1 Chapter 10
Of the Danger of Superfluity of Words

Avoid as far as thou canst the tumult of men; for talk concerning worldy things, though it be innocently undertaken, is a hindrance, so quickly are we led captive and defiled by vanity.

Therefore must we watch and pray that time pass not idly away. If it be right and desirable for thee to speak, speak things which are to edification.

Nevertheless, devout conversation on spiritual things helpeth not a little to spiritual progress, most of all where those of kindred mind and spirit find their ground of fellowship in God.

How I am convicted of harsh words uttered from my lips. Even this day. And how very, very thankful I am for friends of "kindred mind and spirit" with whom I can fellowship.

(Photo of nuns at St. Walburga Abbey. I have visited here, and never fail to come away a changed person. This photo originally appeared in an article from the Ft. Collins, Colorado, newspaper. I found it on this blog and am borrowing (?) it.

"My Song Is Love Unknown"

This hymn was written by Englishman Samuel Crossman (1624-1683). Upon graduation from seminary, Crossman "min­is­tered to both an An­gli­can con­gre­ga­tion at All Saints, Sud­bu­ry, and to a Puritan con­gre­ga­tion simultaneously. Cross­man sym­pa­thized with the Pur­i­tan cause, and at­tend­ed the 1661 Savoy Conference, which at­tempt­ed to up­date the Book of Common Prayer so that both Pur­i­tans and An­gli­cans could use it. The con­fer­ence failed, and the 1662 Act of Un­i­form­i­ty ex­pelled Crossman along with some 2,000 other Puritan-leaning min­is­ters from the Church of England. He renounced his Puritan affiliations short­ly af­terward, and was or­dained in 1665." (from Wikipedia)

My favorite tune for this hymn was written by John Ireland (1879-1962) which can be heard here. This low-tech video is of an organist playing the hymn in his quaint little church. It's worth watching, especially if you dream about going to a small country church. With an organ. Where you sing hymns. In parts.

I have included the text of the first and last verses below. If you wish to read all seven verses, go here.

My Song Is Love Unknown

My song is love unknown,
My Saviour’s love to me;
Love to the loveless shown,
That they might lovely be.
O who am I, that for my sake
My Lord should take frail flesh and die?

Here might I stay and sing,
No story so divine;
Never was love, dear King!
Never was grief like Thine.
This is my Friend, in Whose sweet praise
I all my days could gladly spend.

(The picture above comes from the website for Bristol Cathedral, England. This is the Chapter House, built 1150-1165, for the monks. Crossman was buried at the cathedral.)

Truths

The disciples found out on Easter morning, He is not here. Neither is He in the temple anymore. He is in us.

Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price.
1 Corinthians 6:19-20a

Here is a link to today's broadcast of Sing for Joy for some nice music on this third Sunday in Lent.

(Photo of the existing western wall of the outer court of the temple in Jerusalem, from Library of Congress prints. This photo was taken sometime between 1898 and 1914.)

Okra and Mercy

I've only eaten okra once, and that was enough to convince me that I don't like it. We ended up with a one pound bag of frozen okra that never made it to the stove top. Instead, it has been promoted to (drum roll, please): ice pack. Yes, folks. Providing far more than its potential nutritional value, it has nursed bruises, sprains, and nebulous owies for several years now. I was going to post about Haydn this evening. Well, actually...about how little I know about the stars. But here I sit at the computer with a bag of frozen okra on my knee. (I wonder how many times Haydn and okra make it into the same paragraph??)

Bedtime reading for the kids tonight was supposed to be Farmer Boy. I had only just begun the chapter about the horse thieves and the strange dog when our own dog, Lady, barked quite vehemently at the back sliding door. My son and I came to investigate what was making our usually calm dog so agitated. We spied a dog - no leash, no master - nosing around in the greenbelt area behind our house. Our daughter came downstairs, and as she is sometimes wont to do, she riled Lady up even more. Lady turned around so quickly that she banged into my knee quite hard, and gave me a big old bruise.

It hurt like the dickens, so I sent the offending "riler" up to bed, without any more Laura Ingalls Wilder. The "rilee" continued to bark at the stray, and my son went to get his pellet gun. Just in case.

I had just read this morning from Deuteronomy 32:2:

Let my teaching fall like rain
and my words descend like dew,
like showers on new grass,
like abundant rain on tender plants.

I would like to say that I consciously thought of that verse, but that would be lying. God must have brought it into my heart anyway, because I was able to sit on my daughter's bed a few minutes later and have a far different conversation than I wanted to. Playing the martyr sounded pretty good when I first went upstairs! Throbbing knee, and all.

My daughter felt pretty bad about the whole episode, and wanted me to slap her, of all things. To make it even, she said. Of course I didn't comply. Would hurting you take away my bruise? I asked her. She knew the obvious answer to that question.

We were able to have a conversation about obedience, learning from mistakes, and turning the other cheek. She was able to see that she likes to rile up Lady because it makes her feel in control of something. When she feels out of control regarding being placed for adoption, this makes her want to take control wherever she can. The wind out of her sails, she received my forgiveness, and calmed down. She was then able to come up with some really good ideas of healthy ways to take control of various parts of her life.

I am so thankful that I was able to extend mercy to her when that wasn't my first desire. And it was all because God has extended His perfect mercy to me. He made certain I was primed with patience, mercy, and wisdom from Moses. It's a verse I've read many times before. I've copied it down. Lost it. Written it in journals. This morning, I even wrote it in marker on a piece of paper and taped it where I can see it every day while I sit in the rocker by the fireplace. All, just for this evening.

Amazing when you think of it. Our God IS an awesome God!

Now, let me get this okra back into the freezer. I don't want it to start thawing and get that slime all over everything.

Submission

The Imitation of Christ
Thomas a Kempis
Book 1, Chapter 9
Of Obedience and Submission

"Fancies about places and change of them have deceived many."

This is not something a city girl who longs for the country wants to read. I'd even rather live in a small town than in the suburbs. Maybe it's all the concrete I see every day. Maybe it's that I can go months without seeing our next door neighbors. Maybe it's all the cars I see. Driven by people I don't know.

Kempis speaks in this chapter about obedience. He admonishes us to obey God out of love, and not mere necessity. And yet, it's sometimes difficult to obey and submit without grumbling under our breath, isn't it?

I was just speaking with a fellow ballet mom this evening about her desire to move to the country. I never knew this about her, and here we both were talking excitedly about our mutual dreams of country life. She wants a little house on the property for her daughter to live in, I want one for my mom to live in. She wants to raise sheep, I want to raise alpacas and lavender.

Traversing the concrete to return home, I recounted my many blessings. I will go outside tomorrow and look for swelling buds on the trees, reminding myself that the color green will come to our yard in a few months. I'll look under the dormant lavender plants for volunteer babies that sprouted undetected last summer, and dream of where I can transplant them come spring.

And then maybe I should make some banana bread and take it over to our neighbors.

Happy Arrival Day!

Twelve years ago this evening, I became a mother of two. Our precious daughter was brought to our arms from a half a world away. Her big brother waited, not too patiently, with pink balloons for her to emerge from the long airplane tunnel.

We brought her home to a room with a crib, a rocking chair, and an antique chest serving as a changing table. Now, she's got Jonas Brothers posters, signed Nutcracker posters, stuffed animals, books, a cd player, a fuscia colored canopy, and floral hair pieces from every ballet recital lined up where a wallpaper border would go.

My how time flies. Seems like only yesterday.

Thank you Lord for your perfect timing. Thank you for your strength. Thank you for graciously letting me ride this trail called motherhood.

(Close up of our daughter's hanbok (traditional dress), one of the few things she arrived with from Korea.)

"O For a Thousand Tongues to Sing"

Charles Wesley (1707 - 1788) wrote over 6,000 hymns. Penned in 1739, this hymn celebrates the first anniversary of Wesley's conversion to Christ.

"O For a Thousand Tongues to Sing"

O for a thousand tongues to sing
My great Redeemer’s praise,
The glories of my God and King,
The triumphs of His grace!

My gracious Master and my God,
Assist me to proclaim,
To spread through all the earth abroad
The honors of Thy name.

Jesus! the name that charms our fears,
That bids our sorrows cease;
’Tis music in the sinner’s ears,
’Tis life, and health, and peace.

He breaks the power of canceled sin,
He sets the prisoner free;
His blood can make the foulest clean,
His blood availed for me.

Hear Him, ye deaf; His praise, ye dumb,
Your loosened tongues employ;
Ye blind, behold your Savior come,
And leap, ye lame, for joy.

(St. Andrew's Church in Epworth, England, where Samuel Wesley was rector, and where his sons John and Charles Wesley were born.)

"O Worship the King"

The author of this hymn, Robert Grant (1778-1838), was born in India to British parents. Grant attended school in England, became a lawyer, and followed in his father's footsteps to become a member of Parliament. He returned to India to become the Governor of Bombay in 1834. He died while in India, and was buried there as well.

The melody heard here was written by Johann M. Haydn (1737-1806), brother of composer Franz Joseph Haydn. If you go to Sing for Joy's website you can hear a different melody if you listen to the first hymn of the broadcast. It's got a great choir and a pipe organ. Just wonderful!

O Worship the King

O worship the King, all glorious above,
O gratefully sing His power and His love;
Our Shield and Defender, the Ancient of Days,
Pavilioned in splendor, and girded with praise.

O tell of His might, O sing of His grace,
Whose robe is the light, whose canopy space,
His chariots of wrath the deep thunderclouds form,
And dark is His path on the wings of the storm.

Frail children of dust, and feeble as frail,
In Thee do we trust, nor find Thee to fail;
Thy mercies how tender, how firm to the end,
Our Maker, Defender, Redeemer, and Friend.

O measureless might! Ineffable love!
While angels delight to worship Thee above,
The humbler creation, though feeble their lays,
With true adoration shall all sing Thy praise.

(St. Peter's Cemetery, Salzburg, Austria - burial place of Johann Haydn)

Disappointment.

Struggle. Loss. Failure. Heartache.

Not exactly Top Five Goals for the Christian. Or, are they??

Many churches heard Mark 1:21-28 for this past Sunday's gospel reading. Jesus was teaching "with authority" in the synagogue, which amazed the people. Then, Jesus commanded an evil spirit to come out of a man, "Be quiet! Come out of him!" And the people were even more amazed to witness that sight.

Our pastor reminded us Sunday that God's Word is powerful. We should speak with confidence, for we have the Word that has power and authority to expel evil. Do we really believe that? Do we truly treasure the Word of God?



Our lives won't be perfect if we do believe in God's power. In fact, we'll probably get new problems. Or as Oswald Chambers (above photo) wrote in Monday's My Utmost For His Highest, "This College [Clapham Bible Training College in England] exists...to see whether God grips you. And beware of competitors when God does grip you."

When God grips us, there can be opposition from the enemy. And, yes, the spiritual realm can be a scary thing to think about. But, we have the Word of God. It's in our Bibles. Right there. For the taking.

And the failure? Loss? Struggle? Disappointment? They're temporary.

Great are the works of the Lord; they are pondered by all who delight in them.
Psalm 111:2

"Thou, Whose Almighty Word"

Most Americans hear the word Marriott, and think of the hotel chain. The author of this week's hymn was Englishman John Marriott (1780-1825). Ed­u­cat­ed at Christ Church, Ox­ford, Marriott was curate of several parishes in England during his life. There are several melodies attached to this text, but I have chosen the one by Italian composer, Felice de Girardini (1716-1796). You may go here to read all four verses and hear the melody.

Thou, Whose Almighty Word

Thou, whose almighty word
chaos and darkness heard,
and took their flight;
hear us, we humbly pray,
and, where the Gospel day
sheds not its glorious ray,
let there be light!

Holy and blessèd Three,
glorious Trinity,
Wisdom, Love, Might;
boundless as ocean's tide,
rolling in fullest pride,
through the world far and wide,
let there be light!

Midweek Musings

Some thoughts this week...

Sunday - Sanctity of Human Life Day
For You yourself created my inmost parts;
You knit me together in my mother's womb.
I will thank you because I am marvelously made;
Your works are wonderful, and I know it well.
Psalm 139: 12-13

Monday - Martin Luther King, Jr. Day
I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.
King's "I Have a Dream" speech ~ Lincoln Memorial ~ August 28, 1963

Tuesday - Inauguration Day
"The time has come to reaffirm our enduring spirit; to choose our better history; to carry forward that precious gift, that noble idea, passed on from generation to generation: the God-given promise that all are equal, all are free, and all deserve a chance to pursue their full measure of happiness."
Barak Hussein Obama ~ Inaugural Address ~ January 20, 2009
(Depending upon how he defines "all", it would seem that this should include the unborn. Just saying.)

Wednesday - Day 1
Yesterday, our new president told us, "Starting today, we must pick ourselves up, dust ourseslves off, and begin again the work of remaking America."

Whatever he meant by remaking America, did he mean this?
Worst Inaugural Day Slide
The Dow's 4 percent slide was the most on an Inauguration Day in the measure's 112-year history...

Did he mean this?
Now that Obama has announced that we are stopping off-shore drilling, the gas station I pass has raised its price 10 cents. Since yesterday.

I need some Hope and Change...Mmmm...Let's see...How about this?


The preservation of the sacred fire of liberty, and the destiny of the republican model of government, are justly considered as deeply, perhaps as finally staked, on the experiment entrusted to the hands of the American people.
George Washington ~ First Inaugural Address ~ April 30, 1789

Day One. We've obviously got work to do. It's going to be a long four years. Don't give up hope. Pray. And preserve the sacred fire of liberty.

The Imitation of Christ - Part 8

The Imitation of Christ - Thomas a Kempis
Book 1 Chapter 8
Of the Danger of Too Much Familiarity

I have just been praying about the importance of good friends for our children, and how we can foster healthy Christian relationships between them and their peers.

God was gracious to point me to this quote from Kempis.

Let thy company be the humble and the simple, the devout and the gentle, and let thy discourse be concerning things which edify.

Lord, help me to teach my children these truths and to discern between those relationships that fit this standard vs. those that don't.

(our daughter with her dear, dear friend from ballet)

"We Know That Christ Is Raised"

I was looking for hymns about baptism to go along with today's church calendar, and there aren't very many. The words for this hymn were written in 1969 by John B. Geyer (b. 1932). The melody was written by Charles Stanford (1852-1924) as the music for "For All the Saints." Two years later, Ralph Vaughn Williams, wrote a different, and very effective, melody for "For All the Saints," which has prevailed to this day. Stanford's music was virtually forgotten until it was matched with Geyer's words.

As we study the baptism of our Lord by John at the River Jordan, we can understand more fully our own baptism into the family of faith. Although it's probably speaking of the resurrected Christ, verse three gives a symbolic picture of Jesus being in the presence of the other two persons of the trinity at His own baptism, and our relationship with the same.

The Father's splendor clothes the Son with life.
The Spirit's power shakes the Church of God.
Baptized we live with God the Three in One.
Alleluia!

The hymn is still under copyright, but this site published the words and a simple piano version of the music for "study" purposes.

Pretty COOL

Two weeks ago I was at the grocery store buying ground beef. I noticed that the country of origin label (COOL) said, "Product of Canada, US, or Mexico." Huh? I buy a pound of ground beef, and the best they can do is tell me it comes from one of three countries?! Not cool!

Luckily, we had already planned to visit our ranch friends over Christmas break and buy a 1/4 side of beef from them. Now, not only do we know the country of origin, we know the ranch and the family of origin! We were there when the calves were branded in the spring. We know our meat wasn't pumped up with hormones. Our friends are letting us pay on the installment plan. And their kids played with my kids for hours the day we drove there to pick up the beef. Pretty cool!

(Two happy girls: our daughter, and their younger daughter on the right, after spending time in heaven - AKA with the horses.)

Epiphany

When I was a girl, January 6 meant: my younger brother's birthday. We never took our tree down until after his birthday. I suppose Mom thought having the tree for his birthday made it more festive somehow, and somewhat lessened the downside of having a birthday so close to Christmas. And she was right. Now that I'm married and have a family of my own, I still leave our tree up through Epiphany, in his honor, even though my brother lives half-way across the country.

Now that I'm a Christian, I can see Epiphany in another light. In Sunday's sermon, pastor said:

There is no star, no baby to draw people in. Where will God lead people? To us. Ephesians 3 says, through the church God is showing His wisdom to heavenly rulers and powers. Through the church, God will manifest His glory. We are the light of the world. The grace, patience, and mercy that God has shown us, we should extend to others. Let's be what we are; the light of the world.

Dear Lord, help me to show grace, patience, and mercy. Help me to be a light in my little corner of the universe.