The Comparing of Bounds

Dear Reader,


Monday morning I woke up feeling fresh and ready for a walk. I was in a contemplative mood and ready for the fresh air to get my blood pumping. It was like I was ready to hear something from the Lord, but just couldn't make it out laying under the covers. Well, boy was I in for a treat!

I pulled on my sneaks, grabbed the leash and opened the door. Bella, our big Golden, and Minka, our cat, both bounded out the door into the sunshine of the morning. It is Minka's morning routine to go out and gallivant around the yard for an hour or so and then she comes in, eats breakfast and continues to snooze for approximately... oh, the rest of the day. This morning, though, she was about to be the object of my lesson.

I snapped the leash on Bella's collar and she and I climbed our way up the hill of rocks to the little parking lot above our house, which leads to the beginning of a trail on which we stay for the next 45 minutes to an hour or so. We hit the blacktop with both our tails waggin' until I heard "tink, tink, tink, tink." The sound of Minka's bell. I turn around and there is Minka following us. She has quite the attitude, as most Siamese do, and walked right up to me as if she thought she was joining us on our walk. I gave a little chuckle, picked her up and turned to go back to the house only to be abruptly stopped by Bella, who did not find it amusing that our walk had merely begun and we were already turning around for home. After a bit of tugging Bella let up and all three of us bounced down the rock hill to the yard. Minka ran off under the patio and I figured she would be fine. Bella and I again ran up the hill of rocks to the blacktop and began our walk.

"Tink, tink, tink, tink," rang out in the still morning behind us. I turned around to see Minka this time running through the rocks to catch up with us. Behind me Bella gave a "humph!" Again, Minka came right up to me and I bent to pick her up. As I turned back for the house a second time Bella really put on the brakes. She practically sat down on the pavement and looked at me like, "Lady, tug all you want, but this old girl is gonna get her walk today!" At this I just started laughing! I stood in that parking lot and just laughed! Here I was with a cat that was jealous and a dog that was stubborn and me, the chic who just wanted to walk and open herself up to what God wanted to say. I got behind Bella and gave a big push in the direction of home and once again bounced down the hill of rocks and this time put Minka safely inside.

After getting Bella back up the hill of rocks, we were on our way to freedom. Still laughing, I pondered the irony of the morning's events. Then I heard the Lord's voice. Some of us are like my dog. Bella knew what she was meant to do in that moment; she knew the way she was to go and she was ready to do it. Although she was confident of these things she was not the most willing individual when inconvenience ensued. Then some of us are like my cat. Sometimes we compare where we should be with others who do not have the same purpose in life that we do. Minka followed us out of the boundary of the yard, because she was sure she should be with the dog. This was not the truth.

Sometimes our desire to find a model or a formula ends up being the thing that knocks us out of the bounds God has placed for us and we find ourselves in unknown territory. It was a powerful image for me and I have continued to chew on it for the last few days. Being the unmarried, sick of college, homeschooling mom that I am (LOL), I have a few daily temptations to compare myself to others. The thing of it is, there is no comparison for my life or the life of my child. Yes, there are guidelines that are laid out in God's Word that we are to follow and yield to, but no one else has lived my life while bearing the fruit I am expected by God to bring forth. This comical analogy has delivered to me a clear picture. If this next year asks of me new things that I don't have a ready-made template for will I say "yes"? Is my heart prepared for a new road, if that is what should be posed? I hope my heart is soft enough to take whatever leading and guiding the Holy Spirit offers. Lord, make the soil of my heart ready for the season at hand and keep my hands upturned and open to you. Amen.

What about you, Reader?

Things to ponder:

1. Are you more like the dog or the cat in my story?
2. If you are more like the dog, can the Lord's voice pierce through the confidence you have that you are where you need to be? How would you compare confidence and peace?
3. If you are more like the cat, in what ways have you stepped out of bounds from where the Lord has you to be? Jot down the things the Holy Spirit brings to mind and begin to pray that the Lord would provide a plumb line to return to.

The Perfect Tree of Green

Dear Reader,

I fear it is nearing time to take the beautiful decorations off and extinguish the lights. Our beautiful Christmas tree of green has served our home as a beacon of joy these last few weeks. Our tradition with the tree begins on the 1st Saturday of December each year when we tromp out into the Colorado National Forest and pluck the first tree that speaks to us. This year the trees were silent for an entire 2 1/2 hours. Dominic would say, "Mom, what about this one?" and I would promptly remind him that we were looking for a tree WITH branches. Lord, have mercy!

Finding the perfect tree is somewhat of an art. In the forest, trees tend to grow in clumps. There will be 2 or 3 trees that grow close together so as to support one another. This is great and looks incredible in its natural environment, but not so good for a Christmas tree. The perfect tree has a profile: always stands in the midst of other trees, yet somewhat set apart so its branches grow full on all sides. Trees like this are rare and special.

Tonight as I sit in front of our perfect tree, I ponder what kind of tree am I? Do I need others to grow closely around me so I feel fuller or can I stand majestically on my own? What kind of tree are you, dear Reader?

Jesus was the perfect tree, relying on no one for appearance sake. He was Truth. His branches were strong and broad and covered a multitude of people's needs. He yearned for time, rested when he could and continued to stretch out his branches unyieldingly. He is life.

I think I want new life, but what I mean more often is I want a different life. When I want a different life, I look for those who have the life I think I want and then I watch them. The thing that I realized over the last couple of days is that I have not really committed myself to any life. I am a tree that has placed myself around other trees for comfort and protection. Yet I know not how to fulfill the purpose for which I was created.

This Christmas has been the most peace-filled celebration of joy I have ever experienced. The season and cheer has brought me to a point where I realize it is time for a transplant. The thing is, a tree cannot transplant itself. It must rely on another, full of experience and wisdom, to choose for it a spot where it might grow strong and full. Tonight I have prayed that the Lord would begin a season of transplant in my heart; that He would beckon me alone with Him where I would submit my positioning for His purpose. What about you, Reader? Is it time to look around at where you find yourself in this world? Are you so close to others that you have begun to grow into one another? Can you get alone with the Lord? Maybe it is time for a season of transplant in your heart also.

In the Bleak Midwinter

Dear Reader,

My mom has always believed in my ability to write and has encouraged me to write for Reader's Digest. I keep putting it off and putting it off, but tonight I think she got me. I am going to send something in, I've decided. Talking with her tonight made me think of my long lost blog. Then I jumped on Facebook and found that my sister-in-law Rebecca began blogging today and I felt the need to return to the structure of a blank slate. As I was looking at the blogs I did post when I began this venture last year, I realized how few I have actually written. So here we go again! Time to post.

I told my mom the story I am about to share with you tonight. Again she told me to write it down and send it in to Reader's Digest. Last year for Christmas she even went as far as to get me a subscription to the little magazine so I could begin to see potential. So I decided to share the story here first.

We have a good friend Paul. Paul has been having some memory problems as of late, but he truly is the sweetest man you could ever meet. For Christmas, Dominic and I took Paul to the Colorado Springs Chorale seasonal concert "Deck the Halls". Paul has sung for many years and has well defined himself by his ability to sing. He shares with us often that his late wife Wanda always used to tell him, "Paul, you are a singer, but not a musician." Still music lives on in Paul's heart, but in a different way. He no longer sings in the chorale and feels he is too old, yet he longs for those memories to be alive and active again of those days when he was strong.

I find that I do this also. I long for times when good memories could be alive and active again. Last year was an entire year of wanting to come back to life again. Things were very difficult this 2010 year. It was a wandering year. A year that produced a straying from all I knew to be true of myself. I stopped being creative and so in essence I stopped producing things that brought me life. Joy was hidden and I didn't know where to begin looking for it. Then I met Paul.

As we sat in our balcony seats Dominic told Paul all about what happened last time we were at this concert. Paul talked and told Dominic of his days as a bass in the choir and we pleasantly chatted until the lights dimmed. The choir made its way down the side isles of the Pikes Peak Center and a single note broke the silence from the piano. Suddenly the space around us began to swirl with the beauty of voices as they sang In the Bleak Midwinter. My breath spontaneously caught in my chest and suddenly I took a deep breath. I looked over at Paul and watched the tears of joy and rejouvination crawl down his face. He looked so youthful again; such a wash of memory!

Music feeds our human souls. Not because it becomes a part of us, but because we become a part of it. We like being a part of something. This year I have been challenged to really evaluate why I believe that God sent a baby, named Jesus, to the earth to eventually grow into the man who at 33 years old was hung on a tree with nails through his flesh to save me from my sinful self. Sitting in that concert and watching Paul come back to a lost love, I felt myself doing the same thing. I realized that I am not confident of my belief in God, because he sent his son to be a part of my life. Jesus will never force himself upon us. Sitting there I heard the Holy Spirit whisper, "You have a fresh choice everyday to be a part of something, but you must be an active participant in your choice." Like music feeds our human souls, our relationship with Jesus feeds our life. Life is what I want.

Just this last month, from about October on, I have felt myself coming alive again. Sometimes we forget that in the bleak midwinter is when we are secretly preparing ourselves for spring. Never give up hope, dear reader, because like Paul we may not remember what day it is today, but we can will ourselves to remember the things the Lord has done in, to and through us. Let yourself feel the swirl of God's presence in the space around you and worship, remember and have gratitude for the moments throughout life that you have been priviledged enough to have been apart of. Treasure those memories and live again. Over and over, year after year, live again. Below are the words that brought tears to Paul's eyes and light to my heart:

In the bleak midwinter, frost wind made moan,

earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;

snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,

in the bleak midwinter, long ago.

Our God, heaven cannot hold him, nor earth sustain;

heaven and earth shall flee away when he comes to reign.

In the bleak midwinter a stable place sufficed

the Lord God Almighty, Jesus Christ.

Angels and archangels may have gathered there,

cherubim and seraphim thronged the air;

but his mother only, in her maiden bliss,

worshiped the beloved with a kiss.

What can I give him, poor as I am?

If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb;

if I were a Wise Man, I would do my part;

yet what I can I give him: give my heart.