Panorama of the Grand Tetons with reflection in lake
You Make Beautiful Things
You make beautiful things.
From nothing you formed the world.
Tiny lights in the midnight sky form galaxies afar,
Waters deep with hidden treasures,
Lofty peaks of snow-capped wonders,
Cascading waters over bulging boulders, waves upon the sand,
Imagination, so vast, revealed by the stroke of your hand.
Cycles set in motion speak of order You have made,
Snowflakes melt to rushing creeks, evaporate into rain.
Spring brings forth bright colors, purples, reds and blues,
Life flourishing in every corner, all is fresh and new.
Summer heat, the rain is scarce, life struggles to survive,
Autumn breeze, cooling rain, preparing for what’s to come,
Winter freeze, harsh cold snow, hope for life after death,
All these rhythms you’ve designed, declared by the sound of your breath.
All around we see your beauty,
A smile from a stranger, a child’s first words,
A husband who brings flowers,
A mom who knows just what to say,
The steady voice of a father,
A friend who is never far away,
Whispers that say, “I love you”,
Conversations in the dark of night,
All these things we hold so dear,
Speak of your marvelous delights.
Life passes by like a rushing wind,
There are bumps and rocky roads.
But along our path you hold us, with hands so great and gentle,
And give us words of wisdom that tell us the way to go.
You give us strength and give us love, oh Master of the world.
Precious moments that show great care,
You are glorious, You are awesome, You are there.
Lightening flashed in the dark window and the rain started to pour. Stuart and I counted the seconds until the thunder boomed in the distance. One one-thousand, two one-thousand, three-one thousand, four one-thousand, five-one thousand.
“That one was about a mile away,” Stuart said as we lay in the dark.
I smiled. “I love thunderstorms.”
“Me too,” he replied.
Lightening flashed again as we snuggled up close in anticipation of the storm. The remnants of tropical storm Pamela were upon us, and a cold front was headed our way this October night. As a kid I recall many October nights such as this waiting in anticipation for a blast of cooler air to make its entrance in blessed relief from the long, hot summer. Fall has always held a sort of magic for me. Here in south-central Texas, summers are long and miserably hot. Waiting for the first cold front of the season can feel like waiting for a snail to cross the sidewalk. September comes and the rest of the country experiences leaves changing colors and “jacket weather”, while here, we continue to swelter in our shorts as our A/C’s attempt to keep up with the 90-degree heat.
But perhaps there is something to be learned in the waiting. I have been studying the covenants of the Bible—promises God made to His people to shower them with His love and grace. Abraham was promised a son from whom would come a great nation of people, and yet waited until his wife was 100 years old to conceive his promised son Isaac. Moses was promised that he would lead the Israelites to the promise land, and yet the Israelites wandered in the wilderness for 40 years before seeing the promise land. David was promised that he would be crowned king of Israel, and yet again, he waited until God’s timing was perfect. It seems that sometimes it’s the waiting that makes the thing we are waiting for so special.
The thing about God is that He is always faithful. In the waiting we learn to trust. The patriarchs waited in faith, believing that God would fulfill His promises, and He did. And when the storm comes, we can be assured that the blast of cooler weather is on the other side, that there will be relief from scorching pain that can sometimes be our lives. Whatever hardship you’re experiencing, be assured that God loves you and holds your well-being in His heart. After all, He created falls-with cooler temperatures, and a brilliant display of color, reminding us of His creativity and beauty. He created pumpkins and pumpkin spice, warm cookies, and soup. And He created you. Today I am thankful for the waiting because it means God is working on something amazing! And I’m grateful for His everlasting grace and love. Take time to enjoy the season! It is His gift to you!
Life. When does it begin? It is celebrated in its smallest forms. Tiny feet. Tiny toes. We post pictures of our sonograms on Facebook, rejoice when we hear the tiny heartbeat on the ultrasound, stuff pink or blue ribbons in boxes and have parties to reveal the baby’s gender. We prepare the nursery, complete with the baby’s name across the wall. Life. It is celebrated in the pulsing of tiny feet pushing against a mother’s womb. Celebrating life is universal across cultures, languages, and religions.
When I turn on the news and hear the angry voices of women screaming for their right to take the life of their unborn baby, it makes me angry. With every argument posed, I wonder, but what about the baby? Why is a baby celebrated as life in one instance, and viewed as a blob of cells in the next? Taking the life of an innocent one is always murder. Plain and simple.
But the news also makes me sad. I 100% recognize that for some women, finding out they are pregnant does not initially cause them to celebrate. For those of you in situations in which you feel trapped, I see you and acknowledge that your situation is complex. Maybe you’re in an abusive relationship or struggling to make ends meet. I acknowledge that these scenarios are not easy or simplistic. You’re living with pain and fear that no one should have to live with or experience. God sees you too. He loves you and wants to offer you a way out. But you don’t have to resort to abortion, legal or otherwise. You do have a choice.
For the woman who was raped, your choice was taken away from you. If this happened to you, I am sorry they took away your choice. You are living the unthinkable. God sees you in your suffering and He wants you to find healing. But causing additional pain or suffering by taking the innocent life of your child will not bring you healing. Believing this, is believing a lie. Hurt never heals hurt. One wrong does not make another wrong right. By contrast, God makes all things new. Jesus sees you in your suffering, just like He saw the woman at the well. He longs to wrap you in His arms and heal you. He can, if only you will lean on Him. Trust in Him and the salvation He offers. No one on earth is more equipped than Jesus. He rose from the dead and He will raise up your dry bones and bring you back to life. He will make a way. Perhaps healing will come in the friendship you form with a woman who desperately wants a baby but can’t have one, one who is willing to love your baby as their own. Or perhaps, in giving birth, you will look into the eyes of your Creator and know that God brings beauty from ashes through love for a tiny human you never thought was possible.
You can choose abstinence, but for those who choose not to be abstinent, you can choose contraceptives, which are more readily available than they ever were in times past. In these cases, yes, it is your body. It is your choice. This option should remain available, even if there are some who believe using contraceptives is wrong. Taking away this option for those who do not agree with those religious beliefs would be truly taking away your choice.
For those who have gotten pregnant unexpectedly and face financial difficulty or an abusive relationship, you can choose adoption. Millions of women are waiting to give your baby love and life. It is one of the beautiful ways, God can turn a difficult situation good.
I know none of these options are ever 100% perfect. We live in a society that doesn’t always support motherhood and we need to do better. But let us not forget the life of the baby. You don’t have to choose death. Fight for life.
“For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.” -Psalm 139:13-14.
Bright sunny days, mixed with cold, chilly nights. The flowers haven’t quite started blooming and winter still leaves its mark. But hints of spring are starting to emerge from the cold. The days are longer, and the trees are budding.
With the weather changing, I find myself daydreaming of vacation. A few weeks ago, I took down Christmas (yes, we wait until after the Super Bowl-because winter and all that comes with it is loved in our house) and re-decorated for spring. I added bright daisies to my dining room table and entryway. They wave to me every day when I get home from work. Simple, small flowers have me dreaming of high mountain valleys and snow-capped peaks.
As a child, preparation for vacation was almost as fun as vacation itself, and it started early in spring. You see, we weren’t the family that went to a different place every year. We were the family that found a place we loved and kept going back, year after year. We found a place that felt like a second home and that served as a get away from the norms of everyday life. It was a place where beauty merged with quiet, peaceful release and allowed us to focus on one another. The Rocky Mountains of Colorado.
Family vacation meetings started long before the scheduled trip, which usually took place in early June. Mom would make the reservations and soon what we called “Colorado fever” set in. Planning commenced, usually with my brother and I daydreaming about a special activity, like horseback riding or a special night at our favorite (but more expensive) hotel in Trinidad, CO that had a big indoor pool and a view of the Sangre De Cristo Mountain range out the back windows. It was the one time a year we combined our allowances to serve one common purpose. Dreams turned to reality as we learned the value of a dollar saved.
Memories of my childhood vacations are some of my most precious. To this day, the sound of a rushing creek, or the quiet solitude of a mountain top makes me feel safe. Because in the rush of the creek I hear my family’s laughter. I hear the ponderings of my ten-year-old self, wondering why the river flows in a certain way and the gentle answer of my mother’s voice telling me about the Creator who made it to do so. By the river I hear the echo of our voices singing hymns to God, and my dad’s steady voice reading and teaching us scripture. There were solemn moments of learning life lessons, and belly laughs at crazy jokes only the four of us would understand.
Special memories abound from my childhood, and now flow over to adulthood. In those same mountains, my hubby and I have started to create our own memories. And while we may not always go to the same place, we have started prioritizing vacations together. And so right now I am dreaming. Dreaming of the day we can escape from every day routine and take time just to connect with each other. After all, isn’t that what life is all about? Human connection. 100 years of living is worth nothing without the people we love. Are you dreaming of vacation? What are your favorite vacation memories?
Grey clouds loom over a dark, dreary land. The trees, barren and shivering in the cold anxiously await the arrival of spring. Maybe where you live snow has piled up in the driveway and frigid wind presses against the house. Christmas and New Years are long gone and attempts to keep New Year’s resolutions are fading. Winter is in full swing.
Personally, finding inspiration for writing at the beginning of February is difficult. Everything is well…grey. Thinking back over my life, I don’t have many memories of February other than receiving gifts on Valentine’s Day. School was back in session, and we counted down the days until Spring Break. Hum-drum days, ritualistic, scheduled, routine, melancholy.
As an adult, I have learned to appreciate a good routine. Some call it a rhythm. There is something to be said about the predictable. We can anticipate the day-by-day activities that keep us moving, keep us sane. For me, my job as a NICU speech-language pathologist is anything but routine. Each day is different. It comes with both the expected and the unexpected. I think that’s one reason I love my quiet morning routine of waking early to read my Bible, drink coffee and pray. It grounds me before heading off to the chaos of my day.
But for many, the depths of winter can bring depression and sadness. The sun hides behind the clouds. Time ticks on in melodic rhythm, moving at snail’s pace as they long for the warmth of happier times and the joy that is spring.
So how do we combat the doldrums of winter?
Establish rhythms that bring you joy. Rebekah Lyons shows you how in her book Rhythms of Renewal. Rebekah talks about the rhythms rest, restore, connect, create. Check out her book and website here:
1) Filling my house with flowers and candles. Bringing beauty into my home brings me joy and reminds me of the bountiful blessings God has given us.
2) Continuing to connect with my people. Movie night, game night, date night. I plan on finding ways to continue to connect with my people on a regular basis.
3) SOUP! There’s nothing like walking into a house on a cold, dreary day to a pot of soup that has been cooking in the crock-pot all day. Here are a couple of my favorites:
Pioneer Woman’s Slow Cooker Chicken Tortilla Soup—you can leave out the chicken and add more beans for a yummy plant-based version!
My favorite New Year’s Day memories involved my paternal grandparents. Most of the time it was cold outside, and Grandpa would light a fire in the fireplace. Then he would pop up a big batch of popcorn in his air popper and slather it in butter and salt. Delicious! Then Grandma would get out the card table and we would sit in front of the fire and play Uno or Skip-Bo while a football game rumbled in the background.
Other favorite memories include being home with my parents enjoying a lazy day in our pajamas or sweats. Mom would make our favorite New Year’s Day breakfast, Eggs A’La Goldenrod. “What is that?” you ask. Its cream gravy mixed with hard boiled eggs and served over toast or biscuits. Sound weird? Maybe. But I think its delicious! I can’t say it brought us good luck, but it did always bring smiles.
Traditional foods eaten for good luck on New Year’s Day include black-eyed-peas, buttered bread, grapes, greens, pork, cornbread, long noodles, lentils and fish. Depending on the culture, you’ll find these foods served at tables across the world. But do they really bring us good luck?
Perhaps it is not luck that they bring, but a sense of belonging and community. For my grandparents, serving black-eye-peas at a New Year’s Eve party brought their loved ones together around a table of thankfulness. Hands grasped, and heads bowed, we thanked the Creator for bringing us safely through another year. We shared in partaking of the bounty God had given us, resolute in our love for one another.
In a world of increasing isolation, communion around a table has become increasingly less common. The thing is, the Lord provided bountiful blessings for us in His garden. He has provided for every one of our needs. And so, in these moments of tradition, may we look at each person around our table and remember, that it’s not luck that we need, it’s blessings. The blessing of giving. The blessing of opening our table and serving those around us.
“They shall come and sing aloud on the height of Zion, and they shall be radiant over the goodness of the Lord, over the grain, the wine, and the oil, and over the young of the flock and the herd; their life shall be like a watered garden, and they shall languish no more.” Jeremiah 31:12
