Covenant: 1.) A usually formal, solemn, and binding agreement
2.) A written agreement or promise usually under a seal between two or more parties especially for the performance of some action.
There are times when for no obvious reason I feel separated from the Lord. I may be doing all that I know to do and praying to him, but somehow the communication is not happening. In those moments I feel an anxious loneliness that builds inside of me and cannot be explained. It's as though I can hear the song He is playing but, try as hard as I might, I'm just slightly off key. I rack my mind trying to find why and how I am out of sync with His music.
The past couple of days I have found myself in this state of limbo. Longing to hear Him, see Him or somehow break that strange separation and truly communicate with Him once again. This morning as I drove into work I contemplated my thoughts and feelings asking God, "What am I doing wrong that I feel so far away? I want to feel you right next to me guiding and protecting me." I waited for a brief moment, but nothing...so I turned on the radio and halfheartedly sang along. All the while my heart was crying and after a few moments I could not ignore it anymore. I turned off the radio and told the Lord I would just sit in the silence and listen for Him....nothing. Mentally I began talking over my feelings with one of my friends when all at once it dawned on me....maybe I should just talk it over with Him. Huh. That should have been more obvious. So I started talking, I started by apologizing if it was an incorrect approach but I just felt the need to talk with Him as though He was sitting right next to me. I told Him how I felt and did not understand why. Was there something inside my heart holding me back from Him? Then it came. No voices, no lightning or thunder, just a single thought, "your will". All at once it was that obvious, my will.
This human heart of mine is such a willful thing. Even in moments when I believe I have handed over the controls there is a part of me, ever so tiny, that withholds. It was that part of my heart which was making me deaf to the Lord. Keeping me from feeling His whole presence, because I was attempting to keep Him from the whole of my heart.
I know you are wondering what this can possibly have to do with David of old...but I promise I am getting there. Typically I start my morning with a run. It's a beautiful run and a perfect way to start the day, but after my revelation on my way in I felt the need to spend the time walking with my Heavenly Father. I wanted to watch the earth wake up while still feeling Him close to me, as if waiting to show me the day He created for me. I turned on my praise music and began a slow jog along the canal where I run. It was splendid and with each step I relinquished a little more of my personal hopes and desires.
As I jogged I thought of David. When he returned to Jerusalem with the Ark and Covenant. I considered how he came before it dancing and singing praises to his God. The story has always been intriguing to me. I remember as a small child thinking his wife was probably right to mock him for acting like a fool in public like that. As I have grown my outlook on the story has changed, but this morning I believe part of its purpose came into full focus for me. Here was David, the king of a chosen people. What responsibilities and weights must have been on his shoulders? He believed in the faithfulness of his God and yet he was human and prone to failure. How could he lead a people without divine strength and guidance? Without a sacred covenant to lend him wisdom and truth.
I don't know how familiar you may be with the history but the Ark and Covenant was not just a sacred relic or symbol. It contained the expectations and promises between a people and their God. It had been lost to them because of their refusal to fulfill their end of the bargain. Because of their short sighted disobedience of God's laws. Now, after years of struggling without the fullness of His presence in their midst, the people had turned their hearts to Him and were being given in return the sacred promises of God's guidance and protection. The covenant was being returned into their midst.
While thinking on what the scene may have been like and the joy at the Lord's return to their midst, I saw with perfect clarity how overwhelmed David must have been. The all encompassing need to praise His holy name and the complete lack of ability to properly do so in our lowly human form. Every cell in his body must have been bursting at the seams to shout praises to God and all he could do to show his thankfulness and praise was to leap and dance and sing like a madman. Then the thought hit me, "Did I not have a small portion of such a miracle this very morning?"
Sure enough...I was separated from my Savior by my attempts to withhold my heart from Him and He, in His mercy, showed me the way to tear down those walls and be allowed back into His full presence. True, mine was not on such a large scale, but was it not the same process? Well...what else could I do?
I knelt down right there on the canal path and thanked the Lord. I don't remember the specific words except that I asked Him to help me praise His name through my words and actions throughout the day. That I would be worthy of His covenant with me. Then I went a little David all up and down that canal. I danced around for all I was worth spinning and singing and thanking the Lord for His patience with me.
I would love to say that my lesson is learned and I will never again allow my own will to cloud my relationship with my Heavenly Father...but I know my failings too well to lie to you. I am a willful creature by nature and I am sure I will have to fight that nature until my dying day, but I am thankful that when I do fight it I will forever have this testimony to remind me. May God bless your day and give you great testimonies of His ever present care!
Friday, September 28, 2012
Monday, September 3, 2012
On Hollywoodesque Reunions
We all know and have been told since we were children that Hollywood is not real. (the movie side of it anyway) Those romantic fairy tales, magical reunions and happy endings....they are our idealized versions of real life. Well, I have been a firm believer in that outlook....until this last Saturday afternoon when something magical and purely Hollywood happened to me. I know what you cynics are thinking because until recently I have been one of you, but perfect moments do exist. Let me share one of mine with you.
I have a dear family in Colorado who I love with all of my heart. Even into the tiny nooks and cracks and crannies that are usually reserved for dust and cobwebs. My love for them is so great it spills over into every available space inside me. I call them my Hedrickites. I love each of them dearly and individually for the incredible loving and God fearing people they are and I love none more than the other. But the littlest Hedrick and I have always had a very close bond. She is my Meah and she is the spunky, stubborn, loving, courageous and shy ray of sunlight I hope to be someday. When I am feeling timid or unsure about stepping out into something new I think to myself, "Meah would be brave and try it." and I go for it.
I have not seen my Hedrickites in nine loooooonnnng months and I have been feeling it like an ache somewhere inside me that cannot be comforted. When I learned they would be camping at the ranch in Heber with us this last weekend I began counting down the days. Three weeks then two weeks then five days then two days then TODAY!!!! They got to the ranch on Friday night, but because of work I could not travel up until Saturday morning.
I woke up aching to jump in the car and drive like the wind on an open plain. Too bad packing had to be done. Finally we were on the road and heading to the wilderness and closer to my Hedrickites and my Meah. As we drove the too familiar road from Phoenix to Heber my memory started playing old reels of family trips up to camp. My first trip camping with them when as we drove through the pines up the mountains listening to an Italian aria by Josh Groban little 5yr old Cody out of nowhere burst out with, "This is so beautiful...it's all so beautiful." The time when Trav and I got to ride up the ranch road being towed in the Bronco by his dad while we pretended to race up the mountainside at breakneck speeds. The first trip with Meah when she was still an infant and I spent an entire church service walking up and down the campsite with her as she cried in my arms....and the perfect moment when she relaxed and trusted me enough to fall asleep in my arms.
By the time we got into Payson (just about 30min or so from the ranch) my emotions became near overwhelming as I began to tear up at the thought of being so close to holding each of them in my arms. It took all of my will power not to allow tears to flow freely down my face. Instead I chided myself for being so weepy and stopped allowing myself to remember family trips.
I don't know what kind of reunion I was expecting as I made the final turn into the ranch, but it was not the amazing reunion that occurred.
You know in those movies when people have been separated and as they see each other the world stops and they dramatically run toward each other yelling the other persons name until they collide into an embrace of perfect happiness? Yep....that happened, no lie. There were witnesses.
As my car came into view I spied my Meah playing on the hay wagon, her fiery red hair all glowing in the sunlight. She looked up and as soon as she saw it was my car she began screaming my name and running toward the vehicle. What else could I do? My car immediately went into park and I jumped out yelling her name and running to her across the small expanse of the meadow we were camping in. I know there were others around us...I remember other human forms being there....but I cannot tell you who they were. I only remember seeing my Meah in all of her grown up eight years leaping into my arms as we shared the best hug ever.
You know, come to think of it.....it was way better than anything in a movie. Movies can't come close to the perfect joy and love that exploded onto that field. I challenge Hollywood to come up with anything that pure and happy and perfect. Real life is so much better than movies.
I have a dear family in Colorado who I love with all of my heart. Even into the tiny nooks and cracks and crannies that are usually reserved for dust and cobwebs. My love for them is so great it spills over into every available space inside me. I call them my Hedrickites. I love each of them dearly and individually for the incredible loving and God fearing people they are and I love none more than the other. But the littlest Hedrick and I have always had a very close bond. She is my Meah and she is the spunky, stubborn, loving, courageous and shy ray of sunlight I hope to be someday. When I am feeling timid or unsure about stepping out into something new I think to myself, "Meah would be brave and try it." and I go for it.
I have not seen my Hedrickites in nine loooooonnnng months and I have been feeling it like an ache somewhere inside me that cannot be comforted. When I learned they would be camping at the ranch in Heber with us this last weekend I began counting down the days. Three weeks then two weeks then five days then two days then TODAY!!!! They got to the ranch on Friday night, but because of work I could not travel up until Saturday morning.
I woke up aching to jump in the car and drive like the wind on an open plain. Too bad packing had to be done. Finally we were on the road and heading to the wilderness and closer to my Hedrickites and my Meah. As we drove the too familiar road from Phoenix to Heber my memory started playing old reels of family trips up to camp. My first trip camping with them when as we drove through the pines up the mountains listening to an Italian aria by Josh Groban little 5yr old Cody out of nowhere burst out with, "This is so beautiful...it's all so beautiful." The time when Trav and I got to ride up the ranch road being towed in the Bronco by his dad while we pretended to race up the mountainside at breakneck speeds. The first trip with Meah when she was still an infant and I spent an entire church service walking up and down the campsite with her as she cried in my arms....and the perfect moment when she relaxed and trusted me enough to fall asleep in my arms.
By the time we got into Payson (just about 30min or so from the ranch) my emotions became near overwhelming as I began to tear up at the thought of being so close to holding each of them in my arms. It took all of my will power not to allow tears to flow freely down my face. Instead I chided myself for being so weepy and stopped allowing myself to remember family trips.
I don't know what kind of reunion I was expecting as I made the final turn into the ranch, but it was not the amazing reunion that occurred.
You know in those movies when people have been separated and as they see each other the world stops and they dramatically run toward each other yelling the other persons name until they collide into an embrace of perfect happiness? Yep....that happened, no lie. There were witnesses.
As my car came into view I spied my Meah playing on the hay wagon, her fiery red hair all glowing in the sunlight. She looked up and as soon as she saw it was my car she began screaming my name and running toward the vehicle. What else could I do? My car immediately went into park and I jumped out yelling her name and running to her across the small expanse of the meadow we were camping in. I know there were others around us...I remember other human forms being there....but I cannot tell you who they were. I only remember seeing my Meah in all of her grown up eight years leaping into my arms as we shared the best hug ever.
You know, come to think of it.....it was way better than anything in a movie. Movies can't come close to the perfect joy and love that exploded onto that field. I challenge Hollywood to come up with anything that pure and happy and perfect. Real life is so much better than movies.
Friday, August 24, 2012
Random Bursts of Happiness
I don't know what the thunder is going on with me today, but whatever it is it's a good thing. I woke up this morning like any other and set about getting ready for work. Somewhere on the road between home and work my heart began lifting up. Maybe taking a cue from the clouds that slowly lifted back like a curtain opening the whole of the heavens to my view. With every passing mile the day became more beautiful and pure unadulterated happiness began bubbling up out of me until it burst forth in random smiles and giggles. I cannot explain why...there is no specific reason. But today is a fantastically happy day. I feel like I'm floating on the perfect rainbow that spanned the sky in my very honor. (okay maybe that last part is going a bit far....maybe.)
Monday, August 13, 2012
Sweat, Alfalfa, Sunrise and Koi
While driving into work this morning I was running through my mind what tasks needed to be completed when I sadly realized I have to stay late at work for a mandatory meeting. Three and a half hours past 4pm is not so bad....until you consider I will have to drive about an hour across the valley to get home. That puts me arriving home at about 8:30pm, which is exactly 8hrs from when I have to leave for work again tomorrow morning. As this reality dawned on me I struggled to determine what I would do in the two and a half hours between work and this meeting. Then an idea dawned in the back of my mind...I could go for a run this morning and cross train after work. Hmmm...
I should explain that Monday's are typically a cross train day for me. I get to work early enough to spend a good 45min-Hour with weights and other such nonsense. Tuesday and Wednesday are currently my run days, so to run this morning meant either adjusting my entire work out schedule for the week or just add another run in. As I drove I mulled over the possibilities. Did I really want to run in the morning and do my cross training in the afternoon? That would be somewhat overzealous, no? And who knows what it could lead to! What if I became one of those run all the time people?! This could be dangerous. And it's not like following my regular routine and taking that three hours to just rest would be lazy exactly. I would still have done a solid workout for the day.
While parking my car I made my decision. There was no pressing reason to do more than necessary, sometimes more is not better it's just more. I would follow my regular routine. As I crossed the street I switched my iPhone from it's current audio book to my running music. I found myself walking toward the running path by the canal and watching the back of giant Koi crest the placid water as I stretched....it was all too inviting, I was going to run.
There is an irrigation canal that runs just west of my new work location. It heads south into the city of Gilbert and is flanked on it's western border by fields of corn and alfalfa. Inside the canal swim multitudes of the largest and most beautiful Koi I have ever seen. The water is clear enough you can watch their solid muscular bodies sometimes slicing through the water like torpedoes, sometimes suspended as if they had no concern but to float with the calm current of the channel. To the south and east of the canal are beautiful mountain ranges. Shadows touching their peaks and canyons like folds of a soft blanket thrown over the rocky heights. The fields impregnate the surrounding air with the odor of warm earth, growth and decay. The odors of agriculture, the odors of my childhood. Every mile or so there are dams created for the even distribution of water to other smaller canals. At each of these crossroads the water at once becomes a bubbling cauldron as a miniature waterfall is formed by the changing water levels. The sound is at once arresting and soothing, enticing you to stay and listen to it's melody.
This morning the air was cooler than the past week has been. There was a very quiet breeze that even bordered on feeling fresh as it touched my cheeks which were hot from my exertions. As I ran I allowed the surroundings to soak into my being. The colors, odors, sounds even the feel of the path beneath my feet...I wanted to take it all in and make it a permanent part of my memory. Arriving at my first road crossing I paused to look back toward the northeast. The sunrise was stunning. A bright orange orb rising from behind the mountains and ascending through clouds. The sky blushed a rich pink hue as warm yellow fingers of sunlight sliced through the clouds and burst out onto the world. It was a sunrise of singular beauty, painted by my creator just for me to see in that perfect moment.
I won't lie and say I am now perfectly happy with getting home late tonight and not having as much rest as I am used to...but I will say I am thankful. Thankful for the rising of the sun, for another day full of opportunity, for the gift of being physically able to exercise and sweat, for the smell of alfalfa and for the beautiful Koi.
I should explain that Monday's are typically a cross train day for me. I get to work early enough to spend a good 45min-Hour with weights and other such nonsense. Tuesday and Wednesday are currently my run days, so to run this morning meant either adjusting my entire work out schedule for the week or just add another run in. As I drove I mulled over the possibilities. Did I really want to run in the morning and do my cross training in the afternoon? That would be somewhat overzealous, no? And who knows what it could lead to! What if I became one of those run all the time people?! This could be dangerous. And it's not like following my regular routine and taking that three hours to just rest would be lazy exactly. I would still have done a solid workout for the day.
While parking my car I made my decision. There was no pressing reason to do more than necessary, sometimes more is not better it's just more. I would follow my regular routine. As I crossed the street I switched my iPhone from it's current audio book to my running music. I found myself walking toward the running path by the canal and watching the back of giant Koi crest the placid water as I stretched....it was all too inviting, I was going to run.
There is an irrigation canal that runs just west of my new work location. It heads south into the city of Gilbert and is flanked on it's western border by fields of corn and alfalfa. Inside the canal swim multitudes of the largest and most beautiful Koi I have ever seen. The water is clear enough you can watch their solid muscular bodies sometimes slicing through the water like torpedoes, sometimes suspended as if they had no concern but to float with the calm current of the channel. To the south and east of the canal are beautiful mountain ranges. Shadows touching their peaks and canyons like folds of a soft blanket thrown over the rocky heights. The fields impregnate the surrounding air with the odor of warm earth, growth and decay. The odors of agriculture, the odors of my childhood. Every mile or so there are dams created for the even distribution of water to other smaller canals. At each of these crossroads the water at once becomes a bubbling cauldron as a miniature waterfall is formed by the changing water levels. The sound is at once arresting and soothing, enticing you to stay and listen to it's melody.
This morning the air was cooler than the past week has been. There was a very quiet breeze that even bordered on feeling fresh as it touched my cheeks which were hot from my exertions. As I ran I allowed the surroundings to soak into my being. The colors, odors, sounds even the feel of the path beneath my feet...I wanted to take it all in and make it a permanent part of my memory. Arriving at my first road crossing I paused to look back toward the northeast. The sunrise was stunning. A bright orange orb rising from behind the mountains and ascending through clouds. The sky blushed a rich pink hue as warm yellow fingers of sunlight sliced through the clouds and burst out onto the world. It was a sunrise of singular beauty, painted by my creator just for me to see in that perfect moment.
I won't lie and say I am now perfectly happy with getting home late tonight and not having as much rest as I am used to...but I will say I am thankful. Thankful for the rising of the sun, for another day full of opportunity, for the gift of being physically able to exercise and sweat, for the smell of alfalfa and for the beautiful Koi.
Saturday, August 11, 2012
On Leading
On various occasions over the years have been told that there is something special about me, that I am born to be a leader or have some great destiny set before me. I would like to go on record for a moment to say that there is no good in me. There is only one good and that is God, if there is anything good in things I have done or said in my life it is only a gift of His grace to me because I have plenty of failings to speak of. And by the way, it is terrifying to be told you are meant for greatness. I look at my life and I see nothing particularly great that has been achieved, then I think I must be failing or there must yet me some insurmountable task before me that in all honesty I do not want to face.
I recently had this conversation with a friend of mine, we will name him Sven because I like Scandinavian names, and discussed with him the dread I feel inside when over the years I have heard such comments made. I said if being a leader meant I could just go about my life living and loving people as I have thus far then I was fine with that, but if it implied some great task set before me I wanted no part of that leadership, it was too scary, too much. He then asked, "Well, what if you are a leader just by being you and nothing else?" Well, that would be okay with me, and after that the conversation went another way. But as someone who is constantly thinking (a very dangerous trait at times) I continued to mull over the conversation in my mind. What is it to be a leader? Well, very simply this is what I have come to.
Many years ago a member of my church was given a vision. I cannot relate it to you word for word as I do not have it in front of me and I apologize for any mistakes in my memory, but I will share with you what of it made a lasting impression on my young mind. He saw a frozen wasteland and across it were scattered believers. We were all struggling towards some sort of safety (i don't recall what) and were forced to walk through a menacing gale that threatened to blow us off course and into oblivion. Many people came from different directions and converged on the same course, some carrying nothing and some bogged down with the weight of their belongings. As the gale blew harder some lost hold and were blown away, some began to let go of their bags to lighten their load and ensure their safe passage, but others held on tighter refusing to let go. There were a few who had stakes with them and they began to drive them deep into the frozen ground as anchors. Those people surrounding them began to hold on to them to keep themselves from being swept away by the brutal winds. When the person awoke he felt upset that those who refused to loose themselves from their baggage would use take the strength of others as their anchor, but he was given the following understanding:
The group of believers were all those whose hearts were seeking Christ and the winds were the temptations and trials of Satan blowing them off the goal of salvation. The baggage that some carried were the hopes, belongings and joys of this life. Some would be willing to let go of them and others would allow this life to weigh them down. The ground that the stakes were driven into was the foundation of the word of God which held them fast to their goal. Some would not have the strength on their own to drive fast into the word and be an anchor for others. Some needed the strength of those around them to hold true to their course. The responsibility of those gifted to drive anchors into the foundation, was to be a strength to those around them. To be a strength in the midst of the storm.
I heard that vision related when I was a young teenager, and it remains an impressive and moving image in my mind to this day. From that moment until now I have prayed that God might bless me to be that anchor for someone when my time comes. To hold fast so strong and true to His word that I might bring some relief to a soul weary from their journey, to give them a moment of rest.
After my conversation with Sven I mused over what was said, my memory of this vision and my hopes and prayers associated with it. If that is what it is to someday be a leader, if it means to drive my strength and trust and hope deep into the solid foundation of the word of God; to follow that word to the end of my days, then I am okay with that. It doesn't fill me with the same dread or fear as it did before. If leading just means following my Lord and Savior over all else, well that would be just fine with me. In that case...lead on Lord.
I recently had this conversation with a friend of mine, we will name him Sven because I like Scandinavian names, and discussed with him the dread I feel inside when over the years I have heard such comments made. I said if being a leader meant I could just go about my life living and loving people as I have thus far then I was fine with that, but if it implied some great task set before me I wanted no part of that leadership, it was too scary, too much. He then asked, "Well, what if you are a leader just by being you and nothing else?" Well, that would be okay with me, and after that the conversation went another way. But as someone who is constantly thinking (a very dangerous trait at times) I continued to mull over the conversation in my mind. What is it to be a leader? Well, very simply this is what I have come to.
Many years ago a member of my church was given a vision. I cannot relate it to you word for word as I do not have it in front of me and I apologize for any mistakes in my memory, but I will share with you what of it made a lasting impression on my young mind. He saw a frozen wasteland and across it were scattered believers. We were all struggling towards some sort of safety (i don't recall what) and were forced to walk through a menacing gale that threatened to blow us off course and into oblivion. Many people came from different directions and converged on the same course, some carrying nothing and some bogged down with the weight of their belongings. As the gale blew harder some lost hold and were blown away, some began to let go of their bags to lighten their load and ensure their safe passage, but others held on tighter refusing to let go. There were a few who had stakes with them and they began to drive them deep into the frozen ground as anchors. Those people surrounding them began to hold on to them to keep themselves from being swept away by the brutal winds. When the person awoke he felt upset that those who refused to loose themselves from their baggage would use take the strength of others as their anchor, but he was given the following understanding:
The group of believers were all those whose hearts were seeking Christ and the winds were the temptations and trials of Satan blowing them off the goal of salvation. The baggage that some carried were the hopes, belongings and joys of this life. Some would be willing to let go of them and others would allow this life to weigh them down. The ground that the stakes were driven into was the foundation of the word of God which held them fast to their goal. Some would not have the strength on their own to drive fast into the word and be an anchor for others. Some needed the strength of those around them to hold true to their course. The responsibility of those gifted to drive anchors into the foundation, was to be a strength to those around them. To be a strength in the midst of the storm.
I heard that vision related when I was a young teenager, and it remains an impressive and moving image in my mind to this day. From that moment until now I have prayed that God might bless me to be that anchor for someone when my time comes. To hold fast so strong and true to His word that I might bring some relief to a soul weary from their journey, to give them a moment of rest.
After my conversation with Sven I mused over what was said, my memory of this vision and my hopes and prayers associated with it. If that is what it is to someday be a leader, if it means to drive my strength and trust and hope deep into the solid foundation of the word of God; to follow that word to the end of my days, then I am okay with that. It doesn't fill me with the same dread or fear as it did before. If leading just means following my Lord and Savior over all else, well that would be just fine with me. In that case...lead on Lord.
Sunday, July 22, 2012
On Chastening
"...My son, despise not thou the chastening of the Lord, nor faint when thou art rebuked of Him: for whom the Lord loveth He chastenith, and scourgeth every son whom he recieveth." -Hebrews 12:5&6
This post is not an easy one for me to admit to, because it very clearly shows my failings. That being freely admitted I hope you will find forgiveness for those failings and learn from my weaknesses. After all, the point of this entire blog is to share the very heart of me. I cannot honestly endeavor to share myself if I refuse to share my moments of weakness as well as moments of strength. Especially when those moments contain within them some of the most powerful examples of grace and love from the Lord. So, here goes...
This story begins Thanksgiving weekend 2003. I had traveled to Phoenix to attend a church reunion and was fully enjoying my stay with family and friends while excitedly contemplating my plans for the future. On Sunday afternoon I chose to take a small walk through the neighborhood around the church simply to drink in the sun and contemplate the lessons of the day. As I walked the streets my eyes wandered to the beautiful mountains surrounding the city. I was speaking with the Lord in my heart, thanking Him for the beauty of His creation when all at once as if sitting suspended over my view of the mountains I saw an image that I instantly knew was of a future time. I was sitting at a dinning table surrounded by my children and my husband and we were preparing to eat. As I looked on the scene I knew God was preparing a future for me in this desert. I thought to myself, "Okay Lord, I never wanted to live in the desert but if this is your plan for someday then I am okay with it." I didn't consider the image I had seen after that. It was for someday far down the road, it did not impact my current plans or life in any way so I quickly pushed it to the back of my mind and the next day was back in Kansas City moving on with life.
Over the next year I obtained a solid job with my university working in the financial aid department, I was finishing up my degree program and I had purchased my first home which was everything I could want or love in a home set on a hillside in farm country. My life was full of church, family and friends. I was on the right track. But as the year went on I felt an unsettling in my heart and I found my thoughts turned toward the southwest.
Slowly I began to do research on jobs under the guise of a 'what if' scenario. What if I did move there someday, where could I work? Where might I live? That year a group of my friends and I drove down to Phoenix for Thanksgiving weekend again. There was no bolt of lightning, no trumpets sounding or booming voice telling me to move. There was simply a growing fever burning in my heart and an image burnt on my mind imposed on the mountains. I did my best to ignore this thought of moving. Surely it was not the time, that was for a later date years and years down the road still. I had a plan, I had a life in Missouri. It was all so smooth and beautiful, surely God was not calling me here now?!
After returning home I could not get the thought out of my mind, "It's time to go." I struggled through the winter with the decision. I applied for several jobs at ASU and told the Lord if He wanted me there now He would need to prepare a job for me. Of all the jobs I applied for, only one responded...the police department. "I never want to work for a police department!", I thought, "This is ridiculous! I would hate the job completely." I didn't want to even respond, but to show obedience I responded while praying, "Okay Lord, if this is where you want me I'll need your help to get this job." Several months passed with me flying back and forth to take test after test, on each trip I was sure this would be the end of my trial and I would be able to stay in Missouri. But a couple weeks later I would get a response that I had passed and when can we schedule the next test. Finally, the last test loomed nearer and I felt sick to my stomach with the knowledge that I would pass yet again and be forced with the final decision to leave my home. I knelt in my living room saddened, troubled and not a little bit stubborn and spent an entire afternoon in communion with my maker. By the end of my long struggle I found myself broken, even more sad and completely at peace. It was time to go.
Moving across the country is never an easy task, but somehow everything fell into place perfectly and soon I was locked into a steady rhythm of day to day life. I missed my home and farm country and seasons and family, but I had loved ones and family here too. I was reunited with my dear cousin and childhood friend who became as close a sister to me as I ever could have hoped for had I been blessed with sisters. I had her sweet babies to love on and great friends as well as a job I did not hate after all. And in the back of my mind I had a promise of someday lingering in the distance.
Then came the summer of 2009. My dear Hedricks were leaving to go to Colorado. The Lord had a work for them and they had their witness to go. My dearest sister and friend, my babies and their father who was a confidant and trusted minister would no longer be a short drive away. I dealt with the blow as gracefully as a broken hearted girl could do when faced with the knowledge that it was right in the Lord for them to go. That year as I struggled with my loss I also had a loss of another kind. The man I was dating, who I believed to be 'the one' did not turn out to be who I had thought. I began to look for jobs in Colorado. To dream of going to be with my Hedricks again. I love the area they live in and would be more than happy to live there. The nearby areas were hiring off and on, surely I could find something. As I looked I began to pray for guidance.
Have you ever prayed for the Lord to guide you but secretly begged Him to do what you want? Well, that's what my prayers were and in my gut I knew they were wrong. Heedless of the promises I had been given here and the knowledge that I was not truly seeking God's will but my own. I began to investigate my options in earnest. I was at the edge of applying for jobs several times but always felt held back by some unseen hand. I would pray in those moments, "Please just tell me yes or no.", but a part of me was saying, "Just give me a yes so I won't feel guilty." That year as reunion came I made a determination to fast and pray for a final word from the Lord on the topic. In one of the sermons the minister said, "If you have a question to ask of the Lord, ask in faith and he will give you the answer you seek." That's it! I knew for sure this was the weekend I would finally get my answer. The days ticked by and with each meeting I sat in expectation of some word, sign or feeling...something that would for once put my mind to rest. But nothing came. Then it was the last service. My ears and eyes strained with every effort to hear or see what the Lord would answer. "Please Lord, I am listening." I cried in my heart. Nothing. Then the last song and prayer came. "Here it is", I thought, "This must be the moment." The Amen was said and no word had come. No promised answer. I left the service dejected and worn. As I walked slowly to my house I struggled inside, "Why Lord, why won't you answer me? Have I not been faithful in asking? Has my fast not been acceptable to you? Where have I failed in my attempts to seek you?" A faint image of a dinning table peeked into the corners of my mind, but I pushed it away thinking, "That is not what this is about! That was for a later time, clearly there is no hope of that for me at this time." The image then floated fully into the view of my consciousness, but again I rejected it and told myself to focus on the request at hand.
Again I addressed myself to the Lord, deliberately looking straight ahead to the mountains as I walked. "Why won't you speak to me Lord?" Then, as quiet as a whisper at the back of my mind and as loud as a burst of thunder from heaven I received my reply. "Have I not promised a life for you here?" My being, down to the marrow of my bones felt at once as frozen as ice and as shapeless as molten metal. I could not form words, but my heart acknowledged the truth. "And why is that not good enough for you?" There was the direct answer I was seeking, and the Lord was not pleased with me. I cannot explain to you how devastatingly crushed my entire being was. I do not know how I made it home through the torrent of tears and apologies pouring out of me. Of course I had been given a promise! Why was I treating it like nothing?! Why was I fighting to leave the very place I had been sent to with such great a promise as that? Because in my weak an shortsighted self I did not see the result of His promise when I wanted it to be there. Because I was impatient and attempted to make my own way instead of waiting on His perfect timing.
I entered my doorway and collapsed on the waiting ottoman. I don't know how long I cried and apologized to the Lord for my impertinence. Slowly as my strength drained away I was filled with a peace and love that told me I was forgiven. As I continued to pray pouring my heart out to Him telling him of my loneliness and my fears, He comforted me with His spirit and restored my hope until I found myself at perfect rest.
I still do not see that image in it's fullness. I would like to tell you I never have moments of doubt, after that experience how could I right? But I am a weak human and still have my moments of loneliness and fear, but I will never again ask to leave this desert He has sent me to for I know He has sent me for His good will and pleasure. This testimony is not about who I will marry or if I will marry or when I will marry. It's about my Heavenly Father who loves me enough to give me a royal chewing out when I forget His promises to me. It's about learning that whatever is in store for this life that He has given me, whatever trials or joys lie ahead, it is the life He has promised to me. And that promise alone is enough, for no matter how slothful I may be to remember His promises they are never far from His thoughts.
This post is not an easy one for me to admit to, because it very clearly shows my failings. That being freely admitted I hope you will find forgiveness for those failings and learn from my weaknesses. After all, the point of this entire blog is to share the very heart of me. I cannot honestly endeavor to share myself if I refuse to share my moments of weakness as well as moments of strength. Especially when those moments contain within them some of the most powerful examples of grace and love from the Lord. So, here goes...
This story begins Thanksgiving weekend 2003. I had traveled to Phoenix to attend a church reunion and was fully enjoying my stay with family and friends while excitedly contemplating my plans for the future. On Sunday afternoon I chose to take a small walk through the neighborhood around the church simply to drink in the sun and contemplate the lessons of the day. As I walked the streets my eyes wandered to the beautiful mountains surrounding the city. I was speaking with the Lord in my heart, thanking Him for the beauty of His creation when all at once as if sitting suspended over my view of the mountains I saw an image that I instantly knew was of a future time. I was sitting at a dinning table surrounded by my children and my husband and we were preparing to eat. As I looked on the scene I knew God was preparing a future for me in this desert. I thought to myself, "Okay Lord, I never wanted to live in the desert but if this is your plan for someday then I am okay with it." I didn't consider the image I had seen after that. It was for someday far down the road, it did not impact my current plans or life in any way so I quickly pushed it to the back of my mind and the next day was back in Kansas City moving on with life.
Over the next year I obtained a solid job with my university working in the financial aid department, I was finishing up my degree program and I had purchased my first home which was everything I could want or love in a home set on a hillside in farm country. My life was full of church, family and friends. I was on the right track. But as the year went on I felt an unsettling in my heart and I found my thoughts turned toward the southwest.
Slowly I began to do research on jobs under the guise of a 'what if' scenario. What if I did move there someday, where could I work? Where might I live? That year a group of my friends and I drove down to Phoenix for Thanksgiving weekend again. There was no bolt of lightning, no trumpets sounding or booming voice telling me to move. There was simply a growing fever burning in my heart and an image burnt on my mind imposed on the mountains. I did my best to ignore this thought of moving. Surely it was not the time, that was for a later date years and years down the road still. I had a plan, I had a life in Missouri. It was all so smooth and beautiful, surely God was not calling me here now?!
After returning home I could not get the thought out of my mind, "It's time to go." I struggled through the winter with the decision. I applied for several jobs at ASU and told the Lord if He wanted me there now He would need to prepare a job for me. Of all the jobs I applied for, only one responded...the police department. "I never want to work for a police department!", I thought, "This is ridiculous! I would hate the job completely." I didn't want to even respond, but to show obedience I responded while praying, "Okay Lord, if this is where you want me I'll need your help to get this job." Several months passed with me flying back and forth to take test after test, on each trip I was sure this would be the end of my trial and I would be able to stay in Missouri. But a couple weeks later I would get a response that I had passed and when can we schedule the next test. Finally, the last test loomed nearer and I felt sick to my stomach with the knowledge that I would pass yet again and be forced with the final decision to leave my home. I knelt in my living room saddened, troubled and not a little bit stubborn and spent an entire afternoon in communion with my maker. By the end of my long struggle I found myself broken, even more sad and completely at peace. It was time to go.
Moving across the country is never an easy task, but somehow everything fell into place perfectly and soon I was locked into a steady rhythm of day to day life. I missed my home and farm country and seasons and family, but I had loved ones and family here too. I was reunited with my dear cousin and childhood friend who became as close a sister to me as I ever could have hoped for had I been blessed with sisters. I had her sweet babies to love on and great friends as well as a job I did not hate after all. And in the back of my mind I had a promise of someday lingering in the distance.
Then came the summer of 2009. My dear Hedricks were leaving to go to Colorado. The Lord had a work for them and they had their witness to go. My dearest sister and friend, my babies and their father who was a confidant and trusted minister would no longer be a short drive away. I dealt with the blow as gracefully as a broken hearted girl could do when faced with the knowledge that it was right in the Lord for them to go. That year as I struggled with my loss I also had a loss of another kind. The man I was dating, who I believed to be 'the one' did not turn out to be who I had thought. I began to look for jobs in Colorado. To dream of going to be with my Hedricks again. I love the area they live in and would be more than happy to live there. The nearby areas were hiring off and on, surely I could find something. As I looked I began to pray for guidance.
Have you ever prayed for the Lord to guide you but secretly begged Him to do what you want? Well, that's what my prayers were and in my gut I knew they were wrong. Heedless of the promises I had been given here and the knowledge that I was not truly seeking God's will but my own. I began to investigate my options in earnest. I was at the edge of applying for jobs several times but always felt held back by some unseen hand. I would pray in those moments, "Please just tell me yes or no.", but a part of me was saying, "Just give me a yes so I won't feel guilty." That year as reunion came I made a determination to fast and pray for a final word from the Lord on the topic. In one of the sermons the minister said, "If you have a question to ask of the Lord, ask in faith and he will give you the answer you seek." That's it! I knew for sure this was the weekend I would finally get my answer. The days ticked by and with each meeting I sat in expectation of some word, sign or feeling...something that would for once put my mind to rest. But nothing came. Then it was the last service. My ears and eyes strained with every effort to hear or see what the Lord would answer. "Please Lord, I am listening." I cried in my heart. Nothing. Then the last song and prayer came. "Here it is", I thought, "This must be the moment." The Amen was said and no word had come. No promised answer. I left the service dejected and worn. As I walked slowly to my house I struggled inside, "Why Lord, why won't you answer me? Have I not been faithful in asking? Has my fast not been acceptable to you? Where have I failed in my attempts to seek you?" A faint image of a dinning table peeked into the corners of my mind, but I pushed it away thinking, "That is not what this is about! That was for a later time, clearly there is no hope of that for me at this time." The image then floated fully into the view of my consciousness, but again I rejected it and told myself to focus on the request at hand.
Again I addressed myself to the Lord, deliberately looking straight ahead to the mountains as I walked. "Why won't you speak to me Lord?" Then, as quiet as a whisper at the back of my mind and as loud as a burst of thunder from heaven I received my reply. "Have I not promised a life for you here?" My being, down to the marrow of my bones felt at once as frozen as ice and as shapeless as molten metal. I could not form words, but my heart acknowledged the truth. "And why is that not good enough for you?" There was the direct answer I was seeking, and the Lord was not pleased with me. I cannot explain to you how devastatingly crushed my entire being was. I do not know how I made it home through the torrent of tears and apologies pouring out of me. Of course I had been given a promise! Why was I treating it like nothing?! Why was I fighting to leave the very place I had been sent to with such great a promise as that? Because in my weak an shortsighted self I did not see the result of His promise when I wanted it to be there. Because I was impatient and attempted to make my own way instead of waiting on His perfect timing.
I entered my doorway and collapsed on the waiting ottoman. I don't know how long I cried and apologized to the Lord for my impertinence. Slowly as my strength drained away I was filled with a peace and love that told me I was forgiven. As I continued to pray pouring my heart out to Him telling him of my loneliness and my fears, He comforted me with His spirit and restored my hope until I found myself at perfect rest.
I still do not see that image in it's fullness. I would like to tell you I never have moments of doubt, after that experience how could I right? But I am a weak human and still have my moments of loneliness and fear, but I will never again ask to leave this desert He has sent me to for I know He has sent me for His good will and pleasure. This testimony is not about who I will marry or if I will marry or when I will marry. It's about my Heavenly Father who loves me enough to give me a royal chewing out when I forget His promises to me. It's about learning that whatever is in store for this life that He has given me, whatever trials or joys lie ahead, it is the life He has promised to me. And that promise alone is enough, for no matter how slothful I may be to remember His promises they are never far from His thoughts.
Sunday, July 8, 2012
On Baking
If you have spent any significant amount of time with me you will know that I love to bake. I love cooking in general, but baking is my favorite. The only thing I love more than baking is cooking or baking for people I love. I like to think that is something I got from my grandma Ruth. She was a phenomenal cook. Dinners at grandma's always consisted of: a meat, two veggies, a starch and dessert. Even if the dessert was as simple as cottage cheese with peaches, there was always dessert.
Now, not knowing my grandma you may wonder just how having dinner equates to love so I shall attempt to explain. My grandmother was never an overly 'huggy' grandma. While you may have gotten a short hug or a pat on the head now and again, cuddling was not something that happened often....if ever. Cuddles were grandpa's domain and he did plenty of it. Grandma was always the voice of propriety almost to the point of being straight laced. Everything was in it's proper order all of the time including children. If I were to stop right here you may get the impression my grandmother was a hard nosed and cold person, but I can never lead someone to believe that. You see, there was another side to my grandmother, one that was best seen when in the kitchen.
Most days when my brothers and I came home from school we went straight to grandma's for the afternoon/evening. As soon as I walked in the door my senses were immediately overwhelmed with the odor of hot cocoa and fresh baked cookies. Grandma always had them waiting on the kitchen table for us. Even now the thought of those chewy perfect peanut butter cookies makes me miss her. She would always stand at the counter watching as we ate. I remember wondering why she felt the need to watch us...did she think we would make a horrible mess?
Growing up on a 300+ acre farm we had plenty of woods to roam and in those woods were the tastiest gooseberries I have ever had. I remember in the summer time grandma would send us out to pick them (probably hoping for some peace and quiet) and when we would return she would bake the best gooseberry tarts you can imagine. The perfect blend of sweet and sour curled up in a flaky pastry shell, it was heaven itself dancing on your tongue. I would set up the step stool by the counter and watch while she mixed the dough and stirred the gooseberries and sugar on the stove. The house minute by minute filled with the warmth of the oven and the odor of spices and sugars mixing. When they were finally cooled (it felt like an eternity) we enjoyed them right on the spot with grandma, as ever, watching from her perch at the counter.
Sunday dinners were the biggest affair with grandma. Honey baked ham with cloves, mashed potatoes, green beans, rolls, carrots....the works were all on display on the dining table in her best blue and white china. I remember the smells and sounds of family gathered together, talking and eating and laughing. Almost always grandma was the last to eat. She was up and down getting this or that out of the kitchen, then when things would settle and the needs dissipated I would see her sitting in her chair with the food on her plate barely touched as she sat and watched us after a few moments her face would relax and she would begin eating in earnest.
Throughout my youth and adolescence I often wondered about grandma and her 'watching'. Knowing the strict side of her personality I chalked it up to her waiting for someone to make a mess or need something fixed. An inability to just relax and let the moment happen, but I now believe I was entirely wrong in that estimation.
I don't know exactly when it happened or how, but as my teenage years went on I discovered I loved cooking and baking. I enjoyed the process of combining ingredients that individually weren't so special but combined became something new and delicious. But more than that I began to realize I enjoyed the pleasure people had from eating what I made. I began to think of the people I was cooking for while I made the food. How much this person would enjoy this dish and what if I added this spice...so and so would love that flavor. The creation of the food became a process of putting my care for that person into the product. I found myself holding my breath just a bit waiting to see if those I had made something for enjoyed it. Is it too sweet? Need more spice? Should I bake it a touch longer? Those simple questions became a quest to find just the perfect combination that would bring them the greatest pleasure possible from my effort.
One evening while sitting around the dinner table with a new casserole I had invented (Cheesy Asparagus and Potatoes) I found myself sitting in my grandmothers position. My plate was full of food that was barely touched and I sat focused, not on my meal or the conversation but on the people I loved who were eating my offering. Did they enjoy it? Did they know I thought of them and prayed for them while I made it? Could they taste my love for them with every bite?
All at once the light bulb went off in my mind. That's what grandma was doing! She wasn't waiting for a mess to be made or making sure things were 'just so'. She wasn't unable to enjoy the moment, she was watching us to see how well she had done. She was waiting to make sure her offering of love had been accepted and enjoyed! She was telling us with every stir of a pot and each scrape of a pan that she loved us.
I am not like my grandmother in many ways. Where she had things 'just so' I tend to have chaos. While she was always perfectly put together, I many times am a shambles. That being said when I am in the kitchen I feel very much a part of who she was. When I am in the kitchen I am never alone, for in my mind I am standing by her side cooking away and thinking of and praying for those who would eat my small gifts of love.
Now, not knowing my grandma you may wonder just how having dinner equates to love so I shall attempt to explain. My grandmother was never an overly 'huggy' grandma. While you may have gotten a short hug or a pat on the head now and again, cuddling was not something that happened often....if ever. Cuddles were grandpa's domain and he did plenty of it. Grandma was always the voice of propriety almost to the point of being straight laced. Everything was in it's proper order all of the time including children. If I were to stop right here you may get the impression my grandmother was a hard nosed and cold person, but I can never lead someone to believe that. You see, there was another side to my grandmother, one that was best seen when in the kitchen.
Most days when my brothers and I came home from school we went straight to grandma's for the afternoon/evening. As soon as I walked in the door my senses were immediately overwhelmed with the odor of hot cocoa and fresh baked cookies. Grandma always had them waiting on the kitchen table for us. Even now the thought of those chewy perfect peanut butter cookies makes me miss her. She would always stand at the counter watching as we ate. I remember wondering why she felt the need to watch us...did she think we would make a horrible mess?
Growing up on a 300+ acre farm we had plenty of woods to roam and in those woods were the tastiest gooseberries I have ever had. I remember in the summer time grandma would send us out to pick them (probably hoping for some peace and quiet) and when we would return she would bake the best gooseberry tarts you can imagine. The perfect blend of sweet and sour curled up in a flaky pastry shell, it was heaven itself dancing on your tongue. I would set up the step stool by the counter and watch while she mixed the dough and stirred the gooseberries and sugar on the stove. The house minute by minute filled with the warmth of the oven and the odor of spices and sugars mixing. When they were finally cooled (it felt like an eternity) we enjoyed them right on the spot with grandma, as ever, watching from her perch at the counter.
Sunday dinners were the biggest affair with grandma. Honey baked ham with cloves, mashed potatoes, green beans, rolls, carrots....the works were all on display on the dining table in her best blue and white china. I remember the smells and sounds of family gathered together, talking and eating and laughing. Almost always grandma was the last to eat. She was up and down getting this or that out of the kitchen, then when things would settle and the needs dissipated I would see her sitting in her chair with the food on her plate barely touched as she sat and watched us after a few moments her face would relax and she would begin eating in earnest.
Throughout my youth and adolescence I often wondered about grandma and her 'watching'. Knowing the strict side of her personality I chalked it up to her waiting for someone to make a mess or need something fixed. An inability to just relax and let the moment happen, but I now believe I was entirely wrong in that estimation.
I don't know exactly when it happened or how, but as my teenage years went on I discovered I loved cooking and baking. I enjoyed the process of combining ingredients that individually weren't so special but combined became something new and delicious. But more than that I began to realize I enjoyed the pleasure people had from eating what I made. I began to think of the people I was cooking for while I made the food. How much this person would enjoy this dish and what if I added this spice...so and so would love that flavor. The creation of the food became a process of putting my care for that person into the product. I found myself holding my breath just a bit waiting to see if those I had made something for enjoyed it. Is it too sweet? Need more spice? Should I bake it a touch longer? Those simple questions became a quest to find just the perfect combination that would bring them the greatest pleasure possible from my effort.
One evening while sitting around the dinner table with a new casserole I had invented (Cheesy Asparagus and Potatoes) I found myself sitting in my grandmothers position. My plate was full of food that was barely touched and I sat focused, not on my meal or the conversation but on the people I loved who were eating my offering. Did they enjoy it? Did they know I thought of them and prayed for them while I made it? Could they taste my love for them with every bite?
All at once the light bulb went off in my mind. That's what grandma was doing! She wasn't waiting for a mess to be made or making sure things were 'just so'. She wasn't unable to enjoy the moment, she was watching us to see how well she had done. She was waiting to make sure her offering of love had been accepted and enjoyed! She was telling us with every stir of a pot and each scrape of a pan that she loved us.
I am not like my grandmother in many ways. Where she had things 'just so' I tend to have chaos. While she was always perfectly put together, I many times am a shambles. That being said when I am in the kitchen I feel very much a part of who she was. When I am in the kitchen I am never alone, for in my mind I am standing by her side cooking away and thinking of and praying for those who would eat my small gifts of love.
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