A Giant Unmovable Rock, That I Can Build Something On

There is no room in love for fear. Well-formed, perfect love banishes fear. Since fear is crippling, a fearful life—fear of death, fear of judgement, fear of punishment—is one not yet fully formed and perfected in love.

1 John 4:18 (MSG, NLT)

I could go through my pictures from the past few years, and tell you about how day after day I receive beautiful notes, reminders from Heaven.

"You are so Loved," they all say

It's in the times, though, when I feel the most undeserved of Love.

Those times when I act mean and selfish.  When I act like the Christina I don't want to be anymore.... Those times when in the depths of my being, I would believe that I deserve to be judged and punished for what I just did.. or didn't do..... When I feel I should be rejected or abandoned (I know, this sounds harsh, and you are probably thinking.. "Wow, she has some issues!"..... But I'm talking about deep deep down, beyond what I think, beyond my reasoning and logic.... deep deep down to what my heart believes..... sometimes without me even realizing it.)

When I try and strive in my own effort to make things right again.. to make myself better.  

Those are the times that I need this verse, 1 John 4:18, to be graphted in the very fibres of my heart.

There is no fear in Love, but Perfect Love casts out fear, for fear has to do with punishment

I have to remind myself that God's Love for me, His blessing and kindness to me, have nothing to do with me, how well I behave or deserve it.

He is Love

He just Loves me because He is Love

He created me because He is Love

He gave His Son for me because He is Love

He wants me to Trust in this Love that doesn't waver like my "goodness"

This Love that is like a giant unmovable rock

His Love never changes... even though I do (constantly!)

And it's that kind of Immovability, that kind of Faithfulness, that Consistency that expels all the fears inside.

That Supernatural Strength of Love that I can build something on.

It's keeping my eyes on that kind of Love that already judged and punished His Son for every sin, every weakness, every undeserved part of me, because He Loves me

That kind of Love makes me free

He Loves Us!

Father, can You open me up wide to receive this Love of Yours

XOXOXO

H O M E

A friend challenged me to sit down and write.  To think about what fills me, what gives me life and Joy.  Don't think, just write with the flow that comes..... So I did.

This is what came out of my heart.  It actually surprised me.

Every Month, when I was a little girl, we would receive the Sears Catalogue in the mail.

I'm sure for some, the catalogue was shopping, made convenient and easy from home.  Some, it may be a visual source to make a birthday or Christmas list.

For me, however, the Sears Catalogue filled a whole different purpose.

I remember so clearly, sitting down with... (okay, fighting and stressing to make sure I was the first one that got to read) the new flawless catalogue, opening the pages (always starting from the beginning) I can still smell that new plastic smell. Ahhhh!

I had my scissors and glue in hand, and I would begin to dream

I would start with the Woman's section, and pick out Me (in the future).. ha ha.. usually the one with the most beautiful dress and longest blond hair (I used to hate my brown hair... now I like it )..... Then I'd embarrassdly rocket through the woman's underwear section!

Next I would pick out my husband... (Which always ended up being an older man with silver in his hair, and kind eyes.. so funny that I always by passed all the young men).. I always tell Trevor that I cannot wait until he gets old and grey..... I'm really not just saying that!  Now, I'd definitly make sure I skipped the men's underwear section... Sick! (as I would say in my 9 year old mind) Why would anyone ever look at this!!  Just gross!

Then my favorite part was to pick out babies, toddlers and kids.  Every colour.  Every shape.  Blue eyes, green eyes.... I didn't care!.... I'd just pick out a handful of cuties that would be Mine! 

Then, I'd get busy and start picking out their rooms.... down to every last piece of furniture.  Each one different to match their (made up) personalities and interests......

I'd pick out everything for the rest of my "Home," curtains, couches, bed spreads, kitchen layouts, ......

By the time I was done, I'd have pages full of excitement for my future and all that it could hold.

I was creating Home

My mom says that I have always been a "little mother."

I'd be gone all day, with my friend Erika, pushing our cabbage patch dolls in strollers, up and down the back streets (literally just walking back and forth with our babies, all day!) Stopping, walking around to the front of the stroller to check our babies, whenever cars would go by, just so they would KNOW that we were seriously attentive mothers!!

When my little sister Kathy was born, I thought she was a gift just for me.  My own real live doll!!

I could be found playing house.... usually by myself, as my brother and sister were far more into playing detective and hunting frogs than eating my supper made of leaves on a rock, and twig forks.

Home

After school, we would walk into a house smelling like fresh baked buns, or cookies

 It smelled like Home

In Spring, my mom would open up all the windows to let the fresh air in.  Hang all our clothes out on the line.. Nothing beats that crisp line hung sheet smell....... Ahhhhhh!

Home

Our cluttered old farm house, always smelling of Pine sol and Windex.  Bright orange and red linoleum, and a ceiling stained yellow from cigarette smoke.

Wood walls, a huge picture window that allowed the afternoon sun to make a cozy warm napping spot on the couch after peanut butter sandwiches and Flinstones.

Home

Mom would make dinner, while us kids watched Goof Troop.  When dad got home, we'd all eat supper together, kids kicking each other under the table. Talking about our days, sometimes just eating in hungry silence... Then fight about who's turn it was to help with dishes.  

Home

Walk with dad.  Homework.  Baths.  Mom made lunches.  Shelling peanuts with dad by the fire. 

Home

At bed time, Mom would come in and pray with us.

"Now I lay me down to sleep.  I pray the Lord my soul to keep.  If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.. (yikes... sounds a little morbid now!) 

God bless_________________ (then I would list off every single person I knew.... My mom would just sit there and listen and agree)

Then she would pray for me (whatever I wanted prayer for,) tell me that she Loved me.

Home

Then Dad would come in.  Lay on my bed with me.  Sometimes we would talk.  Sometimes he would read Tom Sawyer or Gulliver's travels..... Sometimes he'd stroke my hair.  He always kissed me and told me he Loved me.

Home

There probably wasn't a night gone by (for a few years anyway) when I didn't wake in the middle of the night, terrified.  Sometimes I would yell for my mom, and she'd come in and pray with me...... Sometimes, I would muster up all my 8 year old courage and high-tail it it to my parents room... Stand at the end of their bed (sometimes for like an hour) before I'd say "Can I sleep with you?... I'm scared"

Home

Home is my mom on the phone (untangling the extra long cord we "just needed", but is now just a giant knot) with her coffee and cigarette, gabbing and laughing about her day

Home is her old purple prayer journal on the table, filled and worn with pen pressed heart cries to God

Home is my dad widdling walking sticks in his chair by the fire

Home is dancing to Bony M in the basement with Carl and Kathy

Home is spending all my allowance at the dollar store to buy random nicknack's (of cats....lol... I loathe cats!) to make my room more cozy.

Home is frantically shoving all the junk in drawers and rooms, doing a once around the house with air freshener, as company is driving up the lane.

Home is the daily bouquets of bug infested wild flowers and wild wheat (that mostly smelled like feet)

Home is dusty curtains that dad keeps threatening to throw out (between sneezes)

No Name boxes of cookies (Always slightly open, causing early staleness but also easy sneaking accessibility)

Saturday night Kinsman TV Bingo

Sunday night Disney movie

Dads ginormous metal popcorn bowl, filled to overflowing (and sometimes filled up again!)

Home is mom singing old hymns.

Home is me singing into my dads little tape recorder to Disney songs (Then leaving it out for someone to find, and acting appalled when they pick it up and listen)

Home is Carl practising his Karate moves after an episode of Ninja turtles (usually on me and Kathy)

Home is the new kittens snuck into our rooms, and blankets shoved under the door to muffle the meows.

Home is mom in the garden for hours

Home is having to shell all the peas she just picked from the garden,  for hours!

Home is Kathy outside with the dog (Or Kathy outside... period.)

Home is playing catch with dad

Sliding on Spring ice in our rubber boots, falling through (every time) and walking home soaked to the bone and shivering.

Home is getting filthy outside (and coming in covered in wood ticks)...... even then, I was never one to get filthy :)

Home is potato bugs, skiidoos, sandboxes, wiener roasts and bonfires

Home is horses, and new baby colts

Home is the sound of distant cows

Home is an unfinished basement (for years)

Home is running from chickens and turkeys all summer and then being forced to help butcher those things in the fall! (Absolutely the worst!!!)

Mismatched furniture

Dusty fake flower arrangements

Home is random kids everywhere (Mom loved having people over!)

Homemade Halloween costumes

Sitting in big trees, walks to the Pig Place

Home is dances and routines made up to the "Mini Pops" hit songs, and performed for whoever would watch.

Home is liver and onions, thick (gag reflux causing) porridge

Home is Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday... Year after year.

Home is chaotic and Peaceful 

Home is messy and clean

Happy and sad

Loving and hurtful

Home is warm places in my heart

Home is the pain in my heart

Home is who I am and what I was made for

Home is what I long for everyone to have

Home is my story, which has only begun!

There is Hope For Home

XOXOXO

Glory On His Lips

Someone sent me this link this morning

Mike Young

Listening to this brings me back to thinking about Who's voice I will choose to define and identify myself with.

Who's Voice.  Who's Words do I give the Power to define who I am?

Is it my parent I looked up to as a child... My parent who spoke defining words to me out of their own insecurity.... or maybe didn't speak any words because they were just as lost and broken as me?

Is it the world.... That always offers to have the one thing that will finally make me acceptable, have exactly what I've been needing, make me enough (weight wise, financial success, sex appeal, fashion, stuff) I think the "World" proves by its fruit that it is searching blindly for the exact same answers?

Is it Trevor.........Who, although he loves me, and thinks I'm beautiful, is only human, makes mistakes, isn't always constant, has his own feelings,  and could never possibly affirm me to the core?

Is it my own voice..... That seems to keep the bench mark a little higher than attainable, when it comes to acceptable?  Me, who often get's blindsided and captivated with my own shortcomings and failures.  Caught in the vortex of fear... that, left to my own devices,  I may never be "enough"

Or 

Can I take the sound all of these voices,
turn the volume to minimum
and tune the ears of my heart to what my 
Father is saying about me

 Accepted

There Are No Expectations Of Me

Perfectly Made 

Loved 

Complete

Believed In

Comforted

Cared For

Whole

Rescued 

Free

Seen

Known

Saved

Adopted 

Beautiful

Precious

Valued

Safe

Protected

Understood

Carried

Gifted

Blameless

Covered

Forgiven

Anointed

Healed

A light

A Voice

A Mighty One
A Sweet Fragrance to Him

Father, I am all of these things

 In You

I am a done deal

A finished work in Your Son

To You God, 
I am Beautiful

Help me to see and believe this, Father

XOXOXO

T - Dot

A song that I think was unknowingly written for my husband before he was even born!

It so reminds me of Trevor!

Happy Friday Babe!

Martha and Mary... Revisited

It's not often that I go back through my old posts.... but this morning (like 5 AM), I woke up thinking about Martha and Mary... I went back to one of my first posts from May 2012..... I'm re posting it, as it is speaking to me fresh today...... It's funny how I am learning the same old lessons nearly a year later :)

The story I am referring to, of Martha and Mary, if you aren't familiar is found in (Luke 10:38-42... link below)

http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=(Luke%2010%20:38-42)&version=NLT

Enjoy

May 2012

I've been up since 4AM.  Mind rushing around all the things I would like to get done today.

Now, its actually time to start the day and I have the same fatigue headache I've had for the past few weeks.  Normally, I'm not a complainer....(okay, maybe sometimes with Trevor) but, I'm really struggling here in the area of Rest.  More so,  rest at its most basic form.... sleep.

I've been reading about Martha and Mary.  (Luke 10 :38-42)  and really wrestling with it.

Wrestling Ring:

So Jesus and His disciples are in town.  Martha and Mary Love the Lord, decide to have a dinner party for Him, cuz you know, He's kind of a "big deal!"

So Martha decides to go all out ..... and I mean all out! (I'm pretty sure her love language is Acts of Service) She doesn't mess around when it comes to entertaining (How can you not love this girl!). I'm sure she was excitedly planning dinner courses, table settings, colours.......running all the ideas past Mary, who was reading her book and only half listening..... "Ya!  that would be great Martha.. We could totally do that! (Not really grasping the magnitude of the plans that were in the making) I kind of get the sense that dinner parties are not Mary's thing, she's way more excited about the social aspects and good times than the  boring details.

Night of the party.... Everyone arrives:

Martha hasn't slept for days..... the creative flow, now more like a flash flood.  She's been excitedly rushing around doing everything, even more so tonight.  Martha hasn't seen Mary all night but also kind of glad she isn't around, cuz there is nothing worse than having someone help with your creative masterpiece who doesn't give a crap about esthetics's!

Martha's daydreams about how Jesus is going to flip over the Risotto, are abruptly interrupted when she hears Jesus, the disciples.. and Mary's Piercing laugh coming from the next room. Martha peers around the corner, sure enough, there is "long lost" Mary sitting right at Jesus' feet hanging on every word He is saying.

This is the part of the story where Martha gets a bad wrap. See, I don't think that Martha was angry at Mary for not helping.  It was probably a common scenario for her, I mean, trust a Sanguine personality to "plan" a Party but not want to have any part in the "Work".  I'm sure Martha knew what to expect from her sister. I do think, however, that Martha felt really extremely excluded and left out. (Just imagining her face as she peeks around the corner makes me want to cry). After all, Martha opened her home to Jesus.  She wanted to hang out with Him,  and all the preparations were to express Love and make Him feel special and thought of..... to be close to Him

With pang's of jealousy towards her sister, (who is now slapping Jesus' knee in a roar of laughter), Martha, desperate to be included and remembered, walks right up to Jesus, interrupts His story, and basically says "Is it nothing to You that Mary has left all the work for me to do" (even though we all know that the party runs way smoother without Mary involved.) "Tell her to come help me, Lord!"

Now, every other time I have read this verse, I have found Martha to sound like a selfish, whiny ten year old.  Now, as I read, I can hear the hurt in her voice, and my heart breaks. 

 What she's really saying is ("Lord, I love you.  I want to be near You.  I want to be having fun with You too.... that is all I ever wanted from tonight!  I'm in the kitchen pouring my heart into a mean Risotto because I know its Your favorite, and I picked blue place settings because I really wanted you to get this fresh and calming feeling after all the travelling You've done.  Now,  it feels like I'm left out and You've forgotten me")

Then He goes and does it.... (gets me every time)  

 I can see His kind eyes looking straight into hers that are brimmed with tears of hurt and frustration.  He already knew what her heart was saying but her mouth couldn't.

He puts His hand on her cheek, cups her face and says "Martha, My dear, treasured, precious friend. My best little hostess ever, Martha."  "You are worried and upset about many details for this party (all of which are stunning, by the way, nice touch with the centrepiece!) I see your Love for Me in every detail.  I know what you really want, though.  You want to hang out with me, and to be honest, Love, I feel gypped because I wanted to enjoy your company too, and I've hardly seen you all night.  I Love what you have planned, only you would be so thoughtful as to make strawberry Margarita's for me, but Mary has the right idea right now, taking full advantage of our precious time together.  Come and have a little rest with Me in here. You look beat!  We can all pitch in afterwards (except Mary, I'll make up some sort of distraction for her)  I have so much to tell you Martha.  You look beautiful tonight, by the way,  that's a new dress isn't it" He notices as He leads her into the den....... (K, the last line was just added in as a little cheat sheet for Trevor....... my love language is verbal affirmation... you're welcome Babe)

Okay, I have written way more than I intended.  I got a little absorbed in evolving the emotional climate of the story.  Really, though,  this story has been stuck in my head the past few days as I find myself waking up in the wee hours of the morning, so excited with all these good intentions I have for the day.  Lots of which are plans of good... God, Work, Me time, Trevor, others......,  but by mid day, I am exhausted, and "my precious time with God" has become a to do list.  There's always seem to an underlying sense that I am doing something for Him, and not really allowing Him to do something for me.

Rest, (Ahhhh!) the word simply taunts me.  The question that is rolling around in my mind now is "What is it about Mary that allowed her to sit at the feet of Jesus when there was a ton of stuff to be done?(some of which she was even responsible for) Good things, things for Jesus.  How was she able to let the whole night of events fade into the background as she laughed, talked, enjoyed her Savior, and allowed herself to be saturated with His presence?  

Dearest Martha,

I'm not going to lie, I'm a little jealous of Mary as well.  To be so carefree.  No weight on her shoulders. ......... 

 I've found myself often annoyed/envious of girls like Mary (whoever Mary is, right now, I've turned her into a fictitious character in my very exaggerated and embellished bible story)

Mary just seems so free to Love Jesus.  Free to not give a rip about anyone's expectations. Free to enjoy friendship.

I do know (from the actual facts of the bible) that Mary was the woman who poured the expensive perfume on Jesus because she had been forgiven  of many sins.  Some even speculate (?)   that it may have been Mary who was the "nameless" woman caught in the act of adultery, that Jesus saved from a stoning, forgave, and empowered  to leave her life of sin.  She may or may not be the nameless woman but  something tells me that there is more to Mary's intentions than being a mere sociable and slacker.

What does she have with Jesus that is so special?

And I'm sure it's not  only with Jesus.  I bet she is good at recognizing what and who is important in the moment.  I bet she has a ton of friends, adored by everyone, and sleeps 8 hours a night!

You know,  Martha, I really do enjoy our personality. Ya, I said it....  I love to get things accomplished, be creative.  I love to pay attention to trivia about others and give thought out tokens to show them that they are special and important to me.  Plus, there is not much more satisfying to me than flipping through my day planner (I'm like the only one in the world who still uses a paper one) and seeing the highlighter strokes through every task done with as much excellence as I was capable of.

............... or is there something more satisfying?

I can relate with the ache of loneliness you feel, being in the kitchen,  lost in the genesis of an offering so dear to your heart, but  only hearing the bursts of laughter from the next room.  The sounds of fun being had, memories being made, inside jokes being created, while we stand alone, pretending that we really do prefer to be in the kitchen doing something of way more importance (I mean, its for Jesus.. how much more momentous does it get?)  It hurts, though, because as much as we crave connection, we don't believe that, stripped of all the adjectives behind our names, and accomplishments we are remembered for, no one would want to include boring, responsible, stick in the mud, awkward us in the festivities.

What you thought would be the very center and highlight of the evening, what you have poured yourself into, what you thought would attract a circle of friends around you, what you thought would cause everyone to see that you really are an awesome person and want to get to know you,  has only served to keep you on the outside... longing to be on the inside.

Jesus saw your heart, Martha, and I know He sees mine too.  I believe He loves us, even created the details about us that we admire about ourselves (secretly of course).  I have been pondering the reality that I may view myself (my likability, my charisma) as lacking or non existent, and I can see how that

assumption is an explanation for all the striving and working to "add"  something of appeal to myself.

When did I ever start to believe that I was not enough, that there needed to be descriptions behind my name to make me worth someone's while?

God, You knew all this was in my heart, and behind my excess activity. You've been whispering to me for days.  Man,  I need  help to see myself with Your eyes.  

 Father, I don't believe You want me to live my life on the outside - longing to be on the inside.

Your word says,  at the very core, I am made in Your  image, therefore, I must be good like You, lovable like you, have a captivating personality like You.  You wanted to be my friend.  You say You are delighted to be in my company.  Just me, stripped of everything I would hide behind or use to define myself.   Help this truth to become revelation to me, Father.    Help me to leave the safety of the kitchen, follow You into the den for a little rest, and hang on every word You say about this Christina that You love so much.

XOXOXO