Tag Archives: belief

like a stone

“And I came home. Like a stone…”

Stone – strong walls and soaring halls and sounding footfalls.

Stone – hewn and broken, fitted and  bonded. raised to protect and shelter.

Stone – sliding under my feet and spreading my fist.

Stone – gathered and hurled.


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I have always eaten off of your table, chips and Cokes you never drank, before – but kept for me. I drove your car for us, kept mine gassed. I slept sound in your bed, mine settled across the road, in a crypt, where ghosts shook my sleep.

From day one, you took me up…an orphan. yours.

I  stepped under shelter, you just before me, holding a door…tables turned back on me – the now mama to so many – back again – under your name, fed at your table, come to slumber aside you.

What little I know of this grace, I gained from you.

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I love to build team

I love to build team. I love to gather the like hearted and minded who are fabulously unlike in gifting. I love to collaborate. I love the energy that fills a room when it is time to create.

It’s starting to be that season again. I can see the associations growing, the gifts converging, the glint of moment on the horizon in others eyes. And I am stoked.

About a week ago, I made an announcement to a group of young, gathered musicians, ones I have been watching and praying for a while now. It kinda jumped out of my mouth, “If you are thinking about writing or have started, press into it now. It’s time. It’s going to flow.” They looked at me a little startled, I’m sure they asked themselves who exactly I was in this regard.  ( They have known me most of their young lives.) But, I know GO! when I hear it. And Houston, we have a GO!

About a week before, Hannah and I had thrown around an idea and in a matter of minutes she had birthed something phenomenal. She sang it for us last Thursday night. We are on the backside of that.

This Sunday night our young composer asked me to come hear something on the grand. He had written 4 new pieces of music, had ideas for lyrics. The music was gorgeous and Hannah has gone to work on the words. She’ll pull them in, she probably already has.

I am having so much fun, watching and encouraging and pressing them to the full place God would have us go in this season. So much fun!


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You answered my question before it even formed in me. Answered the, “What can I play, what can I say?” with what I hardly dare to share, much less lead us all in. God, I see the place we are to travel, the steeps and the slopes make me feel dizzy, and at the same time, giddy. My feet feel even now, a race of electricity which will run up my legs and toward my  heart.

Why here, why now, God? My mind saw it there and with them. Other places, other faces. And yet, this is the room all alit, this is the space so sacredly draped in golds. This was only to be a holding, a spectating place to watch together another day’s decline. This was only to be a better breath, to last exhale.

My heart is racing on, nearly keeping up with Yours, as You move on beyond what I would know and want. My heart runs on, though my head shakes itself and wavers, looking left and right, across the desks that soon will be filled. And You, You nod on, Yes, Your chin high and then nearly to your breast, over every one. And I am staggered back into a board still stained with last quarter’s computations and final day comments to me. Wide eyed, watching what could not be, Lord?


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Asses and Idiots

I think we have all seen ourselves as asses and idiots used of God, in spite of ourselves. Sometimes God really does use dumb (speechless) animals, remember Balaam’s donkey? and  unknowing ones to work deep things in us.

Late Saturday evening, I struggled to sleep. My eyes darted under my eyelids. I could not settle down, be still, rest. My mind raced, though caffeine had been in short supply. God had hinted a bit on my drive up  that He would be coming near to me. As of yet, such hadn’t overwhelmed me in any real way. But, I sensed the sureness of His declaration all the same.

In the wee hours of Sunday morning, I awoke to His whisper, “I am near.” The adorable little dog that had climbed on the bed and laid down a ways from me, a stranger, immediately moved toward me. She settled next to my feet and I felt God smile, NEAR!

An hour or so later, I struggled more and awoke, God’s sound pulsed louder in me, NEAR! The little dog stood up and edged over, she stretched herself out along the curl of my back. God, laughed, NEAR!

Later, nearly morning, He shook my shoulder, NEAR!, the little one clambered up, dug her head beneath my cover, tunneled far under and laid upon me.

It was then that I understood that God’s coming near would also tunnel deep into my covered places.  I was to be confident that He would come to me in such an unknown nearness, that I would know it, recognize it, sense it. He would confirm His word, capitalizing every letter of every word to me with His tangible closeness.


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Sometimes you just have to let go…

Sometimes you just have to let go of the handle bars, sit back a bit and coast down the hill, if you really want to get the thrill of the ride.

I rode my bike a lot when I was little. I rode no-handed all the time. Once I learned the balance of that new posture, it was all good. I could ride and eat my fudgesicle or candy bar or Coca-Cola Icee that I had just bought at the Golden Pantry. Hands free was the way to go, at  least as long as the road was flat or one had a downhill distance to travel. Up hill, no hands, was harder, much harder. It could be done, it took nerve and steady pedaling, but it, too, could be done, if the hill was not so very steep.

I remember the moment, just before an incline, when I would have to decide if I was going to keep on no-handed or adjust in my seat, grab the handle bars and steer. If I kept on no- handed, I could continue to enjoy the fruit of my foray to Golden Pantry, if I grabbed hold, something would have to give. It was a little geometry and a lot of history that helped me make those decisions.

I considered and remembered all the great free-handed rides, how they were somehow so much better, so much more like flight. I remembered that I had not wrecked often or ever been stranded. It usually seemed worth it to keep my hands free.

Sometimes God says steer through here, keep both hands on the bars. Sometimes, like today,  He says, “I’ve got this, just ride with Me, let’s fly.”

“My hands are high, God. Let’s fly!”


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Picking up the pieces

Today, the kids and I picked up the last of the pieces of the old tree that we took down just before the ice storm. You might not have any idea how many pieces there are of a huge tree when it hits the ground as hard as this one did. It was no small number.

Rob and his friend cut it down and then my boys: Trent and his best friend  Sawyer, think Tom and Huck, cut it up with chain saws in the ice and mess, post storm.

This week as the weather has cleared and warmed a bit, we girls have helped out with the remainder of the breakdown. It has been a long and tedious process, though not unbearable, as one can truly see the progress as one works. Once cut to size for the fireplace, the debris, the seeming trash is transformed.

Rubbish becomes fuel.

I had lots of minutes to think on this as I helped with the fine motor work this afternoon, picking up the tiniest of twigs that would dull and clog the lawnmower. I thought of the things that tree represented: the known, the near, the good. And I thought of the other things it became symbol of as well for me: threat, fear, disaster. It’s funny how the same living thing, infected and infused with death can spread fear to all in its shadow.

In a way, its shade had come to cast its own sweltering hell. It had to come down.

It’s still filling a space, all of its parts stacked where its shadow once stretched out at sundown, headfirst down my bank.

But it is now pared and partialed, joints cut asunder and marrow cracked wide…soon sweet fire will judge what thoughts and intentions surged about its veins, too.

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