Family Fasting

We returned home from a week of an extended family vacation at the beach. 

We enjoyed food, fellowship, and funny stories.

During the same week, I heard in some cases, and observed in other cases, the brokenness and pain of illness, sorrow, and unmet desires in extended family members and friends.

Is not this the kind of fast I have chosen: to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free and break every yoke?  Is it not to share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter - when you see the naked, to clothe him, and not turn away from your own flesh and blood?  Isaiah 58:6-7

Over the years, I experienced the grace of being set free from chains of injustice and cords of yokes.  Loving care provided me with shelter, fed my hungry spirit and soul, and clothed my nakedness. 

So, it is with a desire to comfort people with the comfort I received, that I fast.  With God's grace flowing through my heart and hands, I fast by...

loosing chains of injustice

untying cords of yokes

setting the oppressed free

breaking every yoke

with the Father's love, the compassion of Christ, and the power of the Holy Spirit.

Horizons Unlimited

Ocean views remind me of how far I cannot see;

 What looms so large in my life, appears minuscule in the presence of Light

Despite unknown solutions and unclear plans for the future, my heart trusts in the One who gives wisdom and guidance.

"I see the limits to everything  human, but the horizons can't contain your commands."   Psalm 119:96

Hope Said...

The telephone rang; Lisa wondered if I would join her for a walk in the neighborhood.

After a long work day, I hesitated to go, but hope said: "Sure!  Stop by as you wind around the block."

Lisa, Chrystal, Hope (soon to be 4 years old), Casey (the dog) and I met up and began walking.

Hope asked me why the fence posts were pointed;
she walked in open-eyed wonder.

Chrystal (Hope's mother) and Lisa (Hope's aunt) shared with me a story that continues to ring in my soul.

Chrystal and Lisa looked through a book to seek discussion questions for a group of women. 

Hope listened.

Lisa and Chrystal found a question: if you could have any person's heart, without them having to die, whose would you want?  The ladies thought.

Hope said: Jesus.  She wanted the heart of Jesus.

As I pondered this story, I thought: "I want what Hope said; I want the heart of Jesus."

Jesus did have to die for me, for us, to have His heart.  So wonderful to know that He is alive forever!

I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.  Ezekiel 36:26

I am grateful for this heart transplant.  Thank you, Father.

With heart,

Brimming Over with Hope

May the God of green hope fill you up with joy, fill you up with peace.  so that your believing lives, filled with the life-giving energy of the Holy Spirit, will brim over with hope!  Romans 15:13 (The Message)

Ten days after my daughter arrived in this world, her pediatrician contacted me to say she may have have a genetic disorder that  prevents the breakdown of milk sugar.  I had to stop nursing her immediately because the very substance I viewed as nourishment could harm her.

My husband and I purchased the special formula that would replace Mommy's milk.  We asked for prayer from our church family. Along with our daughter, we underwent genetic testing. 

The results: no genetic disorder!!  Our hopes and dreams came true!

Fast forward almost three years later.  I am pregnant.  My doctor orders a blood test.  I test positive for the trait of a different genetic disorder.  My husband gets the test; he, too, tests positive.  We prayed throughout the pregnancy.  We hoped throughout the pregnancy.

Ten days after my son arrives in this world, the pediatrician contacted me to announce that my son definitely had a genetic disorder that affected  his blood. 

We asked for prayer from our church family.  Our son underwent additional testing.

The result: the genetic disorder indeed existed in our son's body.  Our hopes and dreams fell in our laps.

Over the years, challenges came and so did victories.  Over the years hope grew - first small glimmers.  Perspective changed; I learned to savor moments rather than lament over possibilities.

I learned that I could not create hope just with my hands, my mouth, or my thoughts - for me or my family.

The powerful presence of  the Holy Spirit enabled our believing lives to brim over with hope!

I am brimming over with hope as I reflect on the Good God's Grace gifts:

#383 -400

young adult daughter living out God's destiny with grace

young adult son persevering and living out God's destiny with appreciation

husband loving, serving,  giving, living passionately and wisely

Lisa dreaming, building, and advancing in her life's purpose

Jennifer dreaming, building, and advancing in her life's purpose

Alicia dreaming, building, and advancing in her life's purpose

Joy dreaming, building, and advancing in her life's purpose

Dream-boosting group monthly calls

Reviving joy in creating photographs

Hearing of friend's successful surgery and recuperation

Sharing dinner with friends

Surprising friend on her birthday

Stopping to watch children playing

Sitting and reading in the quiet

Worshiping with uncluttered mind and heart

Swallowing deeply the truths in Romans

Receiving grace for the day

Slowing down long enough to see butterflies flitting over flowers

I wrote this post as part of Ann's Multitude Mondays 1000 Gifts.

How is hope manifested in your life?

Hopefully,

Place Matters

While vacationing in Virginia, my husband and I came a cross the Gilmore Farm.  On the farm is the restored home of George Gilmore, a former slave at Montpelier who lived there with his wife Polly and their family.

George Gilmore built the house in the aftermath of emancipation  from slavery.  This small one and a half story home provided shelter for a family busy with farming. 

 The tall (6'4") Mr. Gilmore would have had to bend over to walk about the single room on the first floor.
After living in a slave cabin with much less room, I think Mr. Gilmore would not mind bending to walk about the home he built for his freed family.  Place matters; a place to lay your head after a long day among crops.

Place matters; a place to share meals and play time with family. 

Place matters; the warmth from a fire you built for food and family - for living and learning...

I have lived in several homes in my adult life.  With each move, making a home involved more than brick and mortar preparation - hearts ultimately make homes...

Place matters - my heart home influences the atmosphere in my physical home.

I am yielding to the Master Builder as my place (my heart) continues to be built.  Place matters.

Hands at Work

I stand amazed at the perseverance, wit, and skill of my co-worker, Miriam.  This week, we celebrated her 93rd birthday with a party at the office.  Yes, I said 93!  She has 46 years of service in the agency. 

Amazing. 

I was in the mood for freeze framing life, so I asked Miriam if I could take photos of her hands at work.  She graciously let me into her space - hands at work...

Miriam says we are her second family.  She regals us with witty words.  She remembers our families by name and events.  I needed to capture the moment; capture the hands at work. 

Happy Birthday, Miriam; so glad you were born!!

With joy,

Capturing What Counts

"It is always so good to be in the arms of family...the roots are deep there."  Linda

My friend Linda wrote these words as she shared the joy of visiting  family for an extended time this summer.

Summer found me intentionally spending focused time with my mother, who turns 86 this month.  She lives in her own apartment and enjoys her neighborhood.  I am learning that my presence is the present she wants.

You may understand why Linda's statement resonated with me.  Being in the arms of family calls to mind the roots that influence my life.  My mother is so special to me, to many.  She gave me roots and wings.

Her mother died when my mother was 7 tender years old; her father died when she was a still maturing 14 year old.  I marvel at the grace of God that allows this woman, who spent only a short time with her mother, to be called Mom or Grandma to so many more than those she gave birth to or their offspring. The one who lost her mother early in life became that which she longed for herself - a mother.

So, it was with joy that I read Claire's Freeze Framing Life photoplay project.  The picture below freezes a moment with my mother (on the left) and my mother in law chatting away the hours.  This photo captures what counts: relationship with the ones who nurtured and encouraged - and who still do.

Mama and Mom-in-law