Poured Out [The Filling]

There she stands, her frail body framed by splintered doorposts, her face covered with salty tears. Her body shakes in silent sobs. Life seems to be giving her nothing but sorrow.

Her husband is dead. Her house furnishings have been taken by greedy creditors.
And besides that, now they want her two beloved sons.*

Yet the prophet asks a simple question. Gives simple instructions.

She returns to her home, shuts her door. In her hands she holds the cruse of oil.
It is her last link to hope. And she dares to hope.
She dares to pour. And pour out freely.

And in that one action, a miracle is wrought. A new future is born.

--

Somehow I see my heart in that cruse of oil.
Just enough to start a stream. But not near enough to keep it going.

Yet when I dare to pour, dare to pour out my life freely, a miracle is wrought.
A new future is born. New life springs forth.

In the pouring out, I am filled.

* 2 Kings 4:1-7

Today: A Gift

Birds chirp merrily outside my window, a tiding of spring.
New life will soon be bursting forth beneath melting snow.
Little seedlings sheltered indoors are pushing their green heads toward the sunlight.

It's a promising time of year.

Yet in one week I hear of birth, of death, of sickness, of sorrow. My heart is full.

So often we take things for granted, life especially. 

We don't stop to think that we might not wake up tomorrow.
That we might be in an accident next week.
That we might contract a serious disease next month.
That we might not live to see another year.

There is that possibility you know…

And I've been struck afresh with this one thought.

Live each day as if it were your last.

Redefining Balance

Balance is something the entire world struggles to maintain. I know I do.
We talk about it. We read about it. We post quotes about it.

My question is, how often do we live it?
And what defines living a truly balanced life?

But why should I write about it again? Go read it here.

Beneath the Fog

I gaze out large picture windows to the frosted world beyond. Fog is frozen in time.

Everything is covered with tiny crystals just waiting for a shaft of light to set things sparkling.
It's a wonderland of beauty.

It's a world of potential…

Thoughts swirl softly. These snowflakes of the mind quickly absorb all external sounds as I contemplate life…

There seems to be a parable gazing back at me through the window.
A parable of my life. A parable for me.








This fog? Sometimes it grows thick, enshrouding me in a gray blanket. I cannot see the mountains in the distance or the sun above the clouds, yet I just have to trust they are there.

Then the fog freezes, and I shiver as crystals form. It seems my life has gone from bad to worse.  I'm stuck beneath the fog while icy fingertips paint me with the ice of trial.

Yet when the fog lifts, sun pierces the clouds and I am set sparkling. And I realize that the freezing fog was what made me beautiful.

God creates jewels in foggy shadows.

He calls me His jewel.

Perspective.

It's all how you see it.

And I'm realizing that lately I've been looking from the wrong perspective. 

It's easy to get stressed or frustrated or discouraged when all you see is the here and now.
When schoolbooks and assignments pile high and additional responsibilities add to the mountain.
When it seems like you are just barely making it from one day to another, one week to the next. 

But last night in the quiet of the evening I saw a glimpse of hurting hearts, pleading eyes, thankful smiles.
And I was reminded why I'm here and why I'm doing what I am.

Perspective changes everything.

Asian Aid: Giving Hope Today (video)

A Different Dream

Sometimes I wonder how it can be so hard to let a dream die.

Just when you think you've come to the point of full surrender, of letting go, you wake up and realize that deep within the dream is still there. Suppressed maybe, but very much still there despite all heart-searing efforts to remove it.

It's an interesting feeling when your heart plays tug-of-war. One half sings. The other half cries. Yet in the end it knows what is best. It knows what will hurt least in the long run.

And that is to surrender. To let the dream die.
Because the dream was never mine to cherish in the first place…

In fact, no dream is mine to cherish.
No dream but One.

And so I pray a simple prayer.

Lord, make my life Your dream. And make my dream, You.

Photo Credit: Michel Lee

Ideal World

We are walking down our driveway treading gingerly over icy patches. And as the brisk air turns cheeks to rosy red, we dialogue. It's just the two of us, mother and daughter, surrounded by pine trees enclosed by gray sky.

My mind is full. Thoughts dart back and forth like a confused colony of bumblebees. I feel as though my life is falling apart, yet I remind myself that it is not. It just feels like it.

And as I expound on my feelings to my patiently listening mother, she starts to smile. I've always been a perfectionist, and this is no exception. But somehow I've lost perspective.

Her words gently bring me back to reality as she articulates those very things I need to hear.

I want to live an ideal life in an unideal world. And I realize that what I think is "ideal" really isn't realistic. Yet there is perfection in every step of the journey, and I must learn to love each chapter of life He brings.

So I am seeking to simply do my best and not rake myself over the coals wishing I could have "done better" when in reality I have already done my best. Because this is just another one of the devil's traps, convincing me that I am compromising when God says perfection is in the journey. It's easy to forget experientially, but I'm learning.

God looks at the heart, not the checklist.

And when He is in my life, my world is ideal.