Life seems to be all about learning, implementing, revising, relearning…
Some of those lessons are ones I wish I just had to sit through once and, perhaps if I truly learned the message the first time through, that would be the case.
He’s been teaching me these past many months the art of letting go. Letting go of the old in order to embrace the new. Letting go of what is not working so that He can bring to me what will. Letting go of trying to fix it or work it out on my own, instead allowing Him to bring His perfect will and plans into my life.
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“The ability to simplify means to eliminate the unnecessary so that the necessary may speak.” ~ Hans Hofmann
“Hey!” Kendall walked into the kitchen. It was the twinkle in her eyes more than her excited tone that captured my attention. “Can you come here for a minute?”
I dried my hands on a towel and then followed her into the living room. She walked to the hutch which now housed the collection of salt and pepper shakers I had inherited from my grandmother. I thought for sure she must have more questions about them. She reached one tiny hand out but – instead of fingering one of the sets in fascination like she had earlier – she pointed to the round tin with the letters S I M P L I F Y stenciled on the side that sat tucked out of the way on the bottom shelf.
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Blessings have always seemed to be the symbol of the favor of God, of being in His will. And when they’ve rained down upon my head, I have to say that I have felt incredibly loved by God.
Not that I deserved the blessings – never, ever will that be the case. But maybe I felt that, by receiving them, I’d reached some sort of apex. A finish line, of sorts.
That’s how I used to think. Now I know differently.
Blessings are not what bring fulfillment to this life. If you don’t believe this, think back over the blessings in your life.
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Sometimes gifts come in the most unexpected packages.
Sometimes they are the very thing you didn’t even know you needed.
I sat in the airport terminal a couple of weeks ago, my heart literally torn, struggling to be in two places at once. We were about to board a plane for a long anticipated trip when I received word that my best friend’s brother had just passed away.
The past few days had been spent with Cheryl and—though I knew the prognosis was grave—I had somehow hoped I’d be back and able to be at her side when the end came.
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Life is full of major milestones. Births, graduations, weddings…These are times of great celebration, times of gathering together with those who love us most and marking the event with lots of laughter and love.
And then there are those other milestones. The ones that don’t necessarily get earmarked as “special” until much later, when our minds revisit them and we smile in memory. They may be words spoken, moments shared, or just a meeting of the mind.
We had a few of those milestones this past week. Four of the “littles” in our life came to spend a week and we heaped up a great big pile of those “other” milestones.
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This week has been a blur of activity. A whirlwind of busyness. A virtual non-stop list of things and chores to do and accomplish. But you know what? I wouldn’t change a minute of it! Because it is all leading up to something I have been craving for some time now.
Soul food.
The gathering together of like-minded girlfriends who, for all of our vast differences and interests, are forever bonded by years of tried and tested friendship. Years that have brought changes, presented challenges, and caused us to up our game just a few more times than we might have liked.
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“Do not let any part of your body become an instrument of evil to serve sin. Instead, give yourselves completely to God, for you were dead, but now you have new life. So use your whole body as an instrument to do what is right for the glory of God.” ~ Romans 6:13
I’ve been spending quite a bit of time in my garden lately. And – as Easter has drawn closer – I’ve found myself comparing the new life in the ground before me to the new life we find in Jesus. As I tend my garden I realize that my heart needs tending every bit as much as the ground I kneel on.
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I drove along the unfamiliar road, going maybe 50 mph at best. The sun was quickly setting in the west, much faster than I had hoped. I had left my house forty minutes earlier for the hour and a half road trip, equipped with nothing more than anxiety over navigating country roads by myself and – of course – my trusty GPS.
His name is Walter. You know, the faceless guy who gives you minute-by-minute driving directions. The same one that announces, “You missed your exit. One moment. Redirecting.” Walter and I had made several trips together before this night, and he’d not given me any reason to doubt him before now.
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