Tell Tale Signs

The other day I sat out in the woods for bow hunting season. I readily admit to being a little fair-weather hunter. The freezing cold is not my favorite! As I stood in the light drizzle and the wind blowing, I could hear thunder rolling. Thunder in November isn’t the norm. The sky and the wind were impersonating a spring storm but the trees overhead told the truth. The colors of the leaf canopy that swayed above me in gold and red and brown and the accumulated leaves on the ground said we were fully into fall. Michigan in November is so conflicted. The leaves struggle to let go till the cold settles in and visions of warm sunny autumn are spoiled by rain and cold and sometimes even snow. The cold, wet, heavy white stuff graced us the other way in what should’ve been a dusting, but turned out to be about four inches of good packing. The kids were thrilled to don their summer-forgotten snow clothes and build a few snowmen and eat the frozen gift from the sky.

The first snow usually melts quickly. And in general, this didn’t disappoint. But today as I drove home from church I noticed snow still on the hood and top of my sons car as he drove behind me. Aside from making a mental note to remind him to clear his car better, I thought it funny as we drove in the city that others might wonder why a car still had snow on it several days later.

Now in his defense we live atop the highest point in our county and it is always colder and snowier up there than down in the city. Often I drive home and everything is clear in the city and yet my own street is snow covered and the last to melt in the spring. Today after I turned into the freeway, I was struck by the snow on the sides of the road. It was very sparse and only existed in the laid down patches of grass. It wasn’t everywhere as it had been a few days earlier. It was as if someone had held the snow in their hand and blew it across the grass, leaving it in all the low spots.

There was just enough left to know snow had been there and left it’s mark even though no big evidence still existed. I thought of my own relationship with Jesus at that moment. Could anyone see the evidence of Him in me? While none of us has seen God himself, can the evidence of Him and the principles He taught in His word still be seen in me? Like the snow on my son’s car that was out of place in the city, would anyone look at me and see a pile of love and grace on the hood of my life and notice a difference from the world in which we exist. God’s imprint on our lives should be real and noticeable, not cloaked by the conflict around us. It should leave a lasting tattoo on our hearts that says “Jesus is evident here”.

It was a good reminder today to ask myself “where’s the evidence?” I don’t mean the scientific evidence of God’s existence, but where is the evidence of kindness, goodness, mercy and self-control that proves He lives in me. The Bible is clear, if He lives in us and if we are in Him, there will be evidence! The fruit that comes from knowing and loving and following Him will be real!

When the wind blows and “stuff happens,” do people look at you and still say “Jesus lives there.” Because unlike my little ones who recently took a bag of chocolate chips and ate it all so no one would know, there should be evidence!

“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness,”

‭‭Galatians‬ ‭5:22‬ ‭(NIV‬‬)

“But what happens when we live God’s way? He brings gifts into our lives, much the same way that fruit appears in an orchard—things like affection for others, exuberance about life, serenity. We develop a willingness to stick with things, a sense of compassion in the heart, and a conviction that a basic holiness permeates things and people. We find ourselves involved in loyal commitments, not needing to force our way in life, able to marshal and direct our energies wisely. But what happens when we live God’s way? He brings gifts into our lives, much the same way that fruit appears in an orchard—things like affection for others, exuberance about life, serenity. We develop a willingness to stick with things, a sense of compassion in the heart, and a conviction that a basic holiness permeates things and people. We find ourselves involved in loyal commitments, not needing to force our way in life, able to marshal and direct our energies wisely. Legalism is helpless in bringing this about; it only gets in the way. Among those who belong to Christ, everything connected with getting our own way and mindlessly responding to what everyone else calls necessities is killed off for good—crucified.”

‭‭Galatians‬ ‭5:22-23‬ ‭(The Message)

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Meghan

That day lives in my mind like it was yesterday. Yes time has made it easier, although this is the first time in 13 years I’ve talked at any length about it. Only a couple of times have I maybe shared a few words or sentences here and there when someone else had a similar story. But I can feel the gut punch deep inside without even trying to think. I was at my normal prenatal visit when the look on the doctor’s face showed some concern as she looked for the heartbeat. She mentioned our baby was just probably “hiding” and pulled out the ultrasound machine, but my heart and head were already jumping to a conclusion. When she focused in on the baby, she wasn’t stretched out and moving around as she had been. She was laying still in the bottom of my belly. Her heart wasn’t beating anymore, but mine was banging off the office walls it seemed. One more week and she would’ve lived outside the prenatal safe-spot I had been carrying her in. We had waited over half-way through our pregnancy to tell family and friends. But we had loved her for much longer. And just like that, she was no longer the hope my arms would hold in a short time.

Our boys were leaving on a National Soccer Tournament and so we chose to carry on for a few days until they were on the road with another family. With six kiddos already in tow, there was a lot to put in place. During those few days, I carried her with all the love of a momma knowing she may not be alive, but she was still mine for a couple more days. The day came when we would walk the saddest walk I ever experienced. I clearly thought, as I made my way down the hospital corridor, that I could’ve kept her forever. I didn’t want to give her up and hand her little body over to anyone where I would never see her on earth again. I was induced that morning and labor was slow and quiet. She was born without a sound of her own while my sobs filled the hospital room. She was wrapped and blanketed just as if she was older and bigger. A group of women made handmade blankets for just this occasion and touched my heart without even knowing me. The hospital offered a wonderful photographer to take pictures of her for us, but I couldn’t bring myself to freeze this heart crushing moment even in a photo. I was afraid of feeling this way forever.
As my husband fell asleep beside us, I remember wondering if I’d ever be the same. If we would ever be the same. If life would be bearable. I worked hard on a plan for her burial, refusing to leave her with the hospital where she might remain for months until they do their free mass burial of such infants. I knew she was whole in Jesus arms, but my heart and mind were not. Not for a long time. The weeks ahead were the loneliest weeks of my entire life. No matter how much support and how much love surrounds you, I am convinced birthing a stillborn is one of the loneliest feelings on the planet. After a couple months of moving through the motions of life, I joined a grief support group. I walked away sadder than ever. They all had a lifetime of stories to tell about their loved one. I did not. I had only months of reassuring movement inside and then a day of looking into this baby’s face that would never cry or coo. The doctors did not assure me there’d be another baby. In fact, I was old enough, they assured me there would probably not be another. I couldn’t believe it would end like this. It wasn’t till a couple years had gone by, when we were surprised at age 41 with a baby girl, that healing came. A then 18 months later with twins to thoroughly occupy our minds and hearts.

Today, I finally decided to revisit the depths of emotions I felt back then. It was 13 years ago today she lay in our arms as peaceful as could be, never knowing the anguish of our hearts. But I chose to share the story for one reason only. Please understand, babies born early are as real as those who are born on their expectedIMG_3307 birthday alive and well. Her long little fingers and toes were perfect. Her little eyes closed, her body perfectly formed. She was real.

Every day in this land, babies even farther along than Meghan are aborted cruelly and as mechanically as if they were not human or special to begin with. You have a chance to put an end to these barbaric practices. I have shared my heartbreak for one reason, and one reason only. Go vote ProLife! They are real babies! I’ve seen with my own eyes! I’ve held with my own hands! I’ve cried with every tear in my body and I’ve silently loved in my heart. I really don’t care what ever else is on your agenda. But babies are the most vulnerable of all our civilization. If you can’t stand up for them, just sit down please. I’m afraid you just don’t understand.

The Expectation

It never ceases to amaze me. And after a few times, you’d think I’d get it and my expectations would be lower. Maybe it’s the hope that runs deep, but I’m consistently disappointed, and yet, I try again. On a day that I have an errand or two, or a doctor appointment, or have to take two kids to dance, or one to soccer, etc., I leave a list of sorts for the others to accomplish. It may include homework, or dishes, or taking out the trash or cleaning something up. There’s times I’ve even text a list of items so I could cover multiple kids with a chore or two. It makes the expectation more apparent and no one can ever say they didn’t know exactly what was asked of them. However, it seems lately, that if I say “do the dishes”, I come home to “some” of the dishes done. Or if I say “take out the trash and shovel the chicken coop,” I come home to find only the trash done. I say clean the porch and maybe a chair or two gets put along side the tables, but the leaves and the falling pears are still on the ground. The direction is clear and is well understood but the effort doesn’t match the expectation.
The parent in me gets so annoyed that my kids don’t understand that there’s no hidden line, there’s no grey area, there’s no middle ground. There is a very specific expectation. I can imagine my Father God feels the same way about the children he created. And I couldn’t blame Him for being sadly disappointed. He really did give us clear expectations in His Word, and we skew it, or justify it, or omit what we don’t want to put under that expectation. At the end of the day, does He look at what we’ve accomplished and say, “you didn’t do what I really asked.” Let me give you a for instance. When scripture says “whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is good, whatever is right, think on these things,” how do you think God feels when we watched a crime show on TV, or a drama with premarital sex or adultery? Because His standard is so absolute, and His expectation so clear, do you think he’s disappointed? When we let our kids watch gruesome scarey shows, or we visit haunted houses or decorate with items intended to scare or be grotesque, do you think He says, “what was my expectation?”
I’m not going to lie, I’m truly bothered by this. Some may just call me prudish or old fashioned, but I’m looking at the expectation and thinking what makes us different from the world if we don’t try to meet the expectation? Some may say, “you’re just being legalistic.” Legalism is an excessive adherence to the law. I don’t believe that to be the case. I’m talking just staying within the expectation. My own daughter came home from a Halloween party, and I looked at her face. She was supposedly a creepy clown. There wasn’t anything “pure, lovely, right or good” about it. Maybe it wasn’t awful. But I didn’t look at it and think it was anything within the expectation of “pure, lovely, right or good.”
Why haven’t we raised our personal best, our standard, to meet the expectation? Why do we choose to disappoint the Father by fulfilling only part of His expectation? Why do we tolerate ourselves indulging in anything less than “pure, lovely, right or good.” I don’t want to apologize anymore for hating TV drama’s, and haunted houses, and sleezy lyrics. I don’t want to apologize for expecting kids to be dressed decently and their language and the language of their peers to be “pure, lovely, right or good.” I don’t want to apologize for feeling in my soul that I am tolerating us disappointing the Father at the end of the day. I want people to understand His grace and mercy, in all of its glory. But we need to know His grace and mercy aren’t there as a means to behavior that is less than His expectation. It is a cover for us when we fail, but it is not a crutch while we fail!
What would it take to raise the expectations of ourselves to the expectation of the Father? Would you have to give up a TV series you watch? Would you have to drink without being drunk? Or give it up altogether if you couldn’t do that? Would you have to change the way you dress, or the way you talk? Would you have to let go of anger bitterness? Would you have to live in harmony with those around you? Would you have to work harder and faster? There are so many things in our own lives to examine in light of the expectation. What would you have to change to meet the expectation of “whatever is pure, lovely, right or good?” No more apologizing for keeping the lines of the expectation clear. I don’t care what the world will call me for my opinion, I only hope that when the expectation is this real and this clear, that He will call me faithful.
“Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable –if anything is excellent or praiseworthy–think about such things.” Philippians 4:8
Do what is right and good in the Lord’s sight, so that it may go well with you and you may go in and take over the good land the Lord promised on oath to your ancestors, ” Deuteronomy 6:18
“So I find this law at work: Although I want to do good, evil is right there with me. For in my inner being I delight in God’s law; but I see another law at work in me, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within me.” Romans 7:21-23

Just Wandering

 

When I first was dating young men, I dated some very nice guys.  I can even think of one in particular who was just the nicest guy ever!  Everyone thought it’d be a perfect match and he truly couldn’t have been kinder and more considerate, and he was hard working as well.  But I knew I needed a man who would be stronger than myself.  I was fully of aware of my take-charge personality and I knew it would take a stronger personality than me to keep me in check.  I also grew up in a family where the woman was mostly in charge.  And I just didn’t like it much.  It didn’t suit my personality and I could see where a man had less emotions and more “get-er-done”  than the women in my family.  So I really set out to have a man who could be in charge of me, in a loving sort of way.  Well, needless to say, I found him.  Or he found me.  And there is nothing short of “take-charge” in my Marine!  He’s always seemed like such a softy to most, and he usually is where he needs to be.  But, he is all man, all the time!  The first year of being married, I realized just what I thought I wanted was very hard to live with.  Two “in-control” people struggling for position, and even though I wanted to submit in a Godly-woman sort of way, I often found myself trying to rise to the management side of our marriage.  I had a lot to learn about being the kind of woman it would take to have the kind of marriage I wanted. Even though my heart told me submissive is what I wanted to be, my actions worked to the contrary.  And my man can stand his ground like nobody I’ve ever met before.  It also means sometimes his chain can be yanked by seemingly simple situations because he has a sense of right and wrong that is so strong, that he believes everyone should abide by it all the time and if you don’t, indignation rises and you may experience his frustration.   The other day provided just that moment.  He woke up with severe and unexplained sudden vertigo.  With the dizzy factor, he couldn’t drive and so I drove him to an appointment.  On the drive there, a large box truck jumped out of his lane in front of me and cut me off in a very dangerous way, both to him and myself, and then ultimately those cars around us in the heavy traffic.  We were all doing freeway speeds and I’m not sure I’ve ever had such a close call at such high speeds.  Now I spoke the usual, “Are you kidding me dude?!” to the guy in the box truck who could obviously not see or hear me.  After he cut me off, he swerved back in the other lane where I easily passed him.  My husband looked up at the driver as we passed on his left and let him know just exactly what a dumb move he had made.  The righteous man in him, protective man at that, came out in all it’s unrighteous glory.  It’s hard to be good sometimes, even when you are very right!

You only have to have a few teenager’s at a time to know that it’s hard to be good all the time.  Well honestly, I guess that starts when they are toddlers.  There are so many opportunities to just not do what is right.  But this week, I became aware of just how serious the attempt to derail Godly behavior can be.  The women I meet with and I are doing a study in Job right now, on Wednesday nights, that is different than any time I’ve studied Job before.  And as we have gone through it, something has stuck out to me over and over.  It’s not a point that the author of the study brought up or dwelt on, so I feel comfortable sharing one of the points that I feel God has really made me more aware of for a reason.

Now if you know the story of Job, you know this was a good upright man.  And at some time God offers him up as a righteous guy, and Satan has this opportunity to just mess with him to try to prove that people love God when things are good, but that they’ll turn and curse God when things get rough.  But right in the beginning of Job, the thing that strikes me most, is in verse 5 and 6.  The angels come to God and along with them follows Satan.  And God asks Satan essentially, “where’ve you been?  Whatcha’ doin’?”   Satan answered the Lord, “From roaming throughout the earth, going back and forth on it.”

I immediately thought of my children.  When I know they are in trouble, I often don’t just blurt out that I know what they’ve done.  I say, “so….what’ve you been doing?”  From the God who knows everything, can you imagine someone saying to you, “so….what’ve you been doing?”  God didn’t ask him that because He didn’t know the answer.  God asked him that because He DID know the answer!   Just like I do to my kids!  I also immediately thought of another place in scripture I recalled that phrase. In I Peter 5:8,  we are reminded that the devil is prowling around seeing to devour us.  Then again in Job 2, when Job has managed to still be faithful to God under horrific circumstances, Satan again comes before God and God again asked “Where ya’ been?  Whatcha’ doin’?”  Satan again gives the same response, “wandering the earth, to a fro”.

I was so reminded that the devil really does want to yank your chain.  He really is out there trying to find the things that’ll make you respond in an ungodly way.  He really is trying to get you to ditch God as your go-to when you are challenged with tough circumstances.  He really wants you to denounce your situation as unfair and call God un-just.  He wants you to compromise your example, your testimony to others, he’s anxious for you to be consumed by your own human response.   He really has nothing else to do except wander the earth, to and fro, looking for whom he may devour.  People often say, “the devil made me do it” and in part, there’s some truth to it.  He provides the opportunities.  He can’t make you falter. You choose it.   But if we are super aware that from the beginning of time to thousands of years later, he is still roaming the earth, just looking to meddle in our lives and pull the glory away from the God we choose to adore, then perhaps we can be a little more like Job and stand firm in our knowledge and our hearts that God is God, He is on the throne, and we will not give in to human responses in times of trouble.  Be aware!  Then ask yourself, “what’s your response when the guy cuts you off in traffic?  What’s your response when another curve ball gets thrown into your schedule?  What’s your response when one more thing on your already full plate makes it almost impossible to breathe?  Are you still bringing glory to God with your responses?”  Because if you’re not, you fell for it, the devil’s plot to devour you is still very real.  Don’t pay him honor, but pay attention.  You are a target.  Be like Job.  Stay strong, give God the glory, don’t waiver or be persuaded to curse the one who wronged you or the one who loves you more than any one possibly can.  The devil will outlive you here on earth, don’t let him yank your chain while you’re here.

Psalm 30:7
Lord, when you favored me, you made my royal mountain stand firm; but when you hid your face, I was dismayed

DONT BE DISMAYED

Proverbs 10:25
When the storm has swept by, the wicked are gone, but the righteous stand firm forever

STAND FIRM

1 Corinthians 16:13
Be on your guard; stand firm in the faith; be courageous; be strong.

BE ON GUARD!

 

The Anniversary

I’ve just gotten home after a busy day. It started early in the morning and hasn’t ended until my drive home late this evening after our women’s Bible study tonight. I drove up the driveway and remembered I had my son’s garbage in the back of my car and needed to leave it at the end of the drive. Sitting for just a moment thinking over the whirlwind of the last ten days, it’s not even odd we have someone’s garbage in my car, strange as that sounds. My son and his wife birthed our first little grandson this week and they missed their own garbage day while they were at the hospital. Just seven days before, our other son got married. In the last month, we’ve had a baby shower, a bridal shower, a church event, a wedding, a baby, and scores of other activities. I’ve spent days in the hospital with my mom, and a quick stint to the ER for a kidney stone of my own. My husband has volunteered boarding up homes in Detroit the last few days and quite honestly, it’s been so busy, we’ve hardly had a moment for a text or a call to each other.

As I sat in my car, I quickly scrolled through my notifications and saw a sweet “Happy Anniversary” from one of my friends to her husband. I took note that my other friend’s anniversary is the same day. And then the realization hit! It’s MY anniversary! I drove back up into the parking spot at the top of the drive and gathered my things to go in the house. The kids were ready for bed and with lots of hugs all the way around, I walked into the bedroom to find my exhausted husband asleep in bed in the dark snoring the day’s hard work away.

The last few weeks have included days upon days of reminiscing. From our own wedding memories as our son kissed his new bride, to the births of each of our babies just before the birth of this new grand baby. Moments have been chugging by in the replays of my mind. We laid in bed one night this week and recapped every birth. I realized that in the chaos of our busy, busy big family, we did babies pretty good. If there was one thing we knew something about, it was birthing and feeding little babies and growing them up. It was confirmed when our second oldest said this week, “Mom, I just want to say thank you. You and dad really did train us how to handle life and life details.” I replied to him, “all we ever want is for you to love Jesus and be productive people.” He said, “I know.” It matters that they know. They ALL know exactly what matters.

But I’ll tell you what doesn’t matter. A lot of things don’t matter. It doesn’t matter what state the house is in, good or bad, clean or not. It didn’t matter what the décor was, new or old! It didn’t matter what kind of cars we drove….we only needed to be able to get off our icy hill. And so the old Suburban with 250,000 miles on it still creaks and groans when we need her, and the driveway looks like a parking lot with so many drivers. It doesn’t matter if our backyard is nicely manicured or not…the kids get to run and play. They’ve climbed a lot of trees and drove a lot of bikes and dirt bikes, chased snakes and toads, raised animals and learned to hunt. It didn’t matter whether some were ahead in school, and some behind…so far every one who graduated has gone on to college or is about to. Actually, it didn’t matter to me if they went to college….I just want them to be responsible in daily life and know how to function in this crazy world we live in!

And on this day, it didn’t matter that we didn’t go out to dinner. It didn’t matter that we never said Happy Anniversary. It didn’t matter that we hardly talked about our day, let alone our marriage! It didn’t matter that the dishes weren’t done when I walked in the door that late. Or that I had to fold and clear laundry he had moved over before I could climb on my side of the bed.

The 31st year of marriage will likely end just the way the 32nd will start. A tired content husband and wife, surviving in this world, growing up some kids and grand kids, exhausted at the end of the day, just the way we were meant to be. I’ll gladly go to bed having never celebrated, but loving Jesus, being productive, and settling for a moment together amid the chaos now and again. It’ll end with the sound of my husband snoring away, as I curl up next to him and lay my head on his chest, and a blessed reassurance that he is right here beside me even though neither of us heard the other say “Happy Anniversary.” Life is truly good, any day….all day. Happy Anniversary to us

Reunion

My husband and I never get away together.  I know people say “you have to make the time”.  But not everyone has ten kids and all the activities that involves, or has aging parents at the exact same time.  For the past two years we’ve been caring for Dale’s mom with Alzheimer’s and it has taken our time and our energy.  So when we got a call that Dale’s Marine buddies were having a reunion, it became our goal to get to this important event.  And we are so glad we did!

Unless you’ve watched a reunion of Marines, you have no idea how gigantic a hug can be.  The sound of these grown men wrapping their arms around each other with the massive thud of their hands and arms is enough to wring out a heart full of tears.  But to watch them reminisce and share their thoughts with one another is beyond beautiful.  They knew each other so well back then.  They became men together, the hard way.  And they were each other’s family for years.  When they get out, some of them are so glad to get back home that they hardly look back.  But most have a deep far-away love for the brothers they left behind in life.

One man, senior to my husband, caught my attention this weekend.  And I hope to goodness he’s reading this.  He asked me what made me smile, and I shared with him my hope and joy, “it’s Jesus.”   He genuinely spoke of the guys as “his boys” and I knew why.  He loved them.  It was in his heart.  This man will stay in my heart for a very long time.  He was heartfelt and real.  Life wasn’t easy and yet he still cared from the inside out!  Having never really had a father of my own in life, he was one of the men I could walk away from and say, “I’d take one like that!”

After we came home, I was working in my five-day-over-grown garden, of which I’m sure none of the children picked, watered or weeded while we were gone.  The weeds had infiltrated my beautiful rows and were almost as tall as everything in the garden.  I watered it generously and then started pulling weeds while the ground was soft and moist.  It made it easier to pull the weeds with their usually shallow roots.  As the garden started to shape up, this man again came to mind.

He told me that at some time in his life the motto of the Marines, “God, Country Corps”, had gotten out of whack.  It hadn’t been in the right order and God had not come first.  As I watered and then weeded my garden today, I thought about the order.   The order of the garden mixed in my mind with the order of the universe.  If we aren’t soft, if the garden we call life isn’t watered, we can not notice let alone pull the weeds out of our own lives.  If we aren’t diligent, daily, weeds get out of control.  If God isn’t first, other things come up, crowding out what is important.  It’s overwhelming.  The order has to be right.

I’ll never forget these Marines.  The big guys that we spent our only alone time in 30 years with. Time well spent.  In two years they will reunite again.  I’ll so cherish the moments with the Marine who said, “why do you smile?”, the man who made me smile!  A man who loved his “boys” and a man who gave me a glimpse of what a good father can be like.  For only knowing him just a little while, I was reminded to share my joy regularly with those who ask.  I was reminded to keep smiling, so that someone will ask!  I was reminded of order, and I was reminded how important relationship is, both with God and people!    My heart is full.

It’s a hot summer weekend, bordering the Fourth of July.  It’s the kind of weekend that is normally full of invites and picnics, beaches and fun.  But it’s also one of the few weekends that I didn’t have anything on the schedule.  The rest of the family was booked solid though!  The minute this weekend is over, our calendar is on hyper-speed.  We have one thing after another and I won’t be able to see straight until early October.  Yes, it’s that kind of summer.  The kind that you feel racing ahead at a time of year that you really want to slow down and enjoy, especially in Michigan where the great weather is short-lived.

The big kids were off to various places, a car had to get in to the dealer, drop-offs had to be made for teens and I needed to drop in for a visit with my parents.  By 2:30 pm the littlest two and I were finally home with no where to go.  They jumped in the pool and I started a project I’ve been hoping to tackle for a couple years.

Both of our walkways, front and backyard, are made of interlocking pavers.  In between all those pavers are copious quantities of small weeds and grass.  For the past two years, a few times a year, I’ve picked all the weeds out and hated every minute of it.  I have wanted to do a clean sweep, but just never got around to it.  Time would be short and I’d pick the weeds, knowing that if I did the whole job I wouldn’t have to weed as much.  So yesterday, when the world was busy around me, I determined it would be the day.  It meant I had to take the new power washer and put gas in it, and attach the hoses, something I normally rely on my husband for.  But he ran up north to cut the grass at his parents cabin.  I got the job done and started power washing out all the weeds and dirt and gravel between the joints.  In no time, I was covered head to toe in mud and fine gravel.  It was in my ears and hair, my bathing suit, my legs and my face.  The crunch between my teeth was a tell-tale sign I must have had my mouth open during the project.

As I waved the wand with water that flowed out at such a rate it cut like a knife, I noticed something between the flying mud and water.  Some weeds were immediately blown out of the cracks.  Others, like mossy areas, were a little harder to come up.  However, when you caught the edge of them, they came out in large chunks.  Deep dandelions, well no getting around it, they would be loosed, but I would need to pull them in the end.   But there was something that caught my eye in the process.  Some of the finest weeds didn’t budge.  I could go back and forth, over and over, and they did not come out.  They would bend and change direction, I could blat them sideways, frontwards and back, and dead on, and still they would not come out.  The same was true for areas that had filled in with grass.  Thin, tiny blades of grass were some of the hardest to remove.  Even in the tiniest of places to grow, their roots secured them.  Even under the greatest force, they remained.  The powerful force of the water that can even slice through my skin, could not automatically uproot grass or tiny weeds.

It was a quick reminder to me of just how rooted I need to be.  I may not be able to cover alot of ground, but my ground needs to be able to withstand frustrations, troubles, rejections and attacks by forces greater than myself.  Someone once asked me, “have you ever questioned your faith?”  I can tell you, the answer is no.  I’ve never questioned it.  There have been alot of rough spots in my life that I have been absolutely at the mercy of.  But it never made me doubt my faith.  And my faith has kept truth in sight at all times.

My daughter and I were driving to the chiropractor and we commented just this week how amazing it is to know so many who were raised with the truth and knowledge of God and His word, but who have justified new philophies and compromises.  People who we thought were rooted but who have become separated from the ground beneath their feet and embraced what the world has proclaimed to be true.

“Therefore as you have received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in Him, having been firmly rooted and now being built up in Him and established in your faith, just as you were instructed, and overflowing with gratitude. See to it that no one takes you captive through philosophy and empty deception, according to the tradition of men, according to the elementary principles of the world, rather than according to Christ…” Colossians 2:6-8

Rooted…not just full of faith.  Deeply rooted, instructed, established, and overflowing with gratitude.  Nobody, or no theory or feeling, should be able to move us from the grounding of our faith.  It has to go deep, and to go deep, it needs to actually be deep. Immovable!  Unshakeable!  I may be tiny, but my faith is strong, and my determination is to go deeper as the power that tries to shake me loose looms.  Go deep!  Work at it, be  instructed, be established, be filled with gratitude!  And hang on!  Life is pretty rough.  But God already knew that….. 🙂