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Wednesday, April 30, 2014

Why Did The Turkey Cross The Road?


While driving home from a sweet and somewhat risky evening of sistership ('cause fellowship is just for the guys, right?)  a headstrong lone turkey crosses the two (or 3?) lane highway - right. in. front. of me.  She looked so graceful and confident, for a turkey.  The thing that stood out like a broomstick handle on a feather duster was her incredibly straight neck.  Her little pea-head aimed at her destination and she courageously strode to the other side of the road.  

I watched the scene as if it were in slow motion, and am still not sure how my little bug of a car didn't even come close to hitting her.  

The images burned in my brain and I was awestruck.  My mind's facebook feed immediately posted "Why did the turkey cross the road?  #noreally #HWYinsertnumberhere #turkeyshavesurprisinglylongnecks  

It wasn't until after arriving at my destination that I physically posted to facebook, and even later when I realized there really was an answer to the age old question!

I KNOW WHY THE TURKEY CROSSED THE ROAD!!!!

10 But Moses said to the Lord, “Oh, my Lord, I am not eloquent, either in the past or since you have spoken to your servant, but I am slow of speech and of tongue.” 11 Then the Lord said to him, “Who has made man's mouth? Who makes him mute, or deaf, or seeing, or blind? Is it not I, the Lord? 
12 Now therefore go, and I will be with your mouth and teach you what you shall speak.”   

(granted, Moses continued to be a chicken and Abba gave in by allowing Aaron to speak to the people...)

But then we have Esther's story in chapter 4 of her namesake book:  

12 And they told Mordecai what Esther had said. 13 Then Mordecai told them to reply to Esther, “Do not think to yourself that in the king's palace you will escape any more than all the other Jews. 14 For if you keep silent at this time, relief and deliverance will rise for the Jews from another place, but you and your father's house will perish. And who knows whether you have not come to the kingdom for such a time as this?” 15 Then Esther told them to reply to Mordecai, 16 “Go, gather all the Jews to be found in Susa, and hold a fast on my behalf, and do not eat or drink for three days, night or day. I and my young women will also fast as you do. Then I will go to the king, though it is against the law, and if I perish, I perish.” 

When I grow up, I want to be like Esther and that sweet turkey who stuck her neck out and crossed the road instead of being like Moses who, after seeing God's 'blow your mind' amazing-ness FIRST HAND, thinks only of his own inadequacies.

Nor do I want to be like the disciples who were in a boat with the hands that created the ENTIRE EARTH fearing for their lives in the midst of a storm.

...but if I'm honest, I'm more like them than I want to be.

#grateful for all the Esthers, Moses's, Peters and Thomas's



Tuesday, April 29, 2014

Rejoicing Over (a) Spilled Milk(shake)



Sometimes I look at something I've posted on facebook or instragram (or both) and marvel at myself.  What was I thinking? Not only did I *purchase* a milkshake that contained Oreo cookies (and a side of gluten) for the first time in 8 months (yes eight) - I dropped it, and then *actually* tried to salvage what didn't actually touch the sidewalk....and when the cold stark reality of a milkshake-less night loomed, I took a picture.

Wouldn't you? :)

Here's what I posted with the picture:  "I stood in disbelief at least 10 seconds...then I realized (too late) the 5 second exemption was void. #IConfessIWasCheating #JesusLovesMeEnoughToSlapItOutOfMyHands #crimedoesntpay #newmotto #ThroneBeforeCone"

As funny as it truly is, I was still despairing last night.  The hard stuff of new creation living seemed too much.  I spent almost 13 hours at school that day and wasn't anywhere close to being finished.  After a fitful night of "sleep" (if you can call it that), I turned around and did it again.  It's a busy week and I'm not sure I can get everything done in time with all that's going on.

No surprise that the Bible Study theme of the week has been "Enough".   I've meditated on passages like the story of the widow who didn't have hardly any flour and oil left - and yet what remained fed she and her son for quite a long time.

At the core of my being, I'm convinced that God is bigger than anything I encounter.

Yet, I doubt it when the sky turns dark and the wind picks up.  Is He really bigger than the storm I'm about to encounter?  Do I have enough enjoyment of the healthier choices of food I've been eating?  Does my crunchy refrigerated protein laden, super minty "skinny chocolate" really satisfy better than the (almost immediate) heartburn causing, calorie laden creamy hazelnut "bliss" I used to treat myself to?

I know...duh?  (we think together in hindsight)

So.  Wanna know the sweet song Abba woke me up with this morning.  The words except for "My soul cries out!" were muted.  My soul was still crying out.

While getting ready, I found it on my phone and played it.


Yeah.  I cried.  Abba's love is more than enough.  I forgot.  Oh Abba, I'm so sorry I forgot.  I cried, too, knowing that the mess I had left on the sidewalk was being washed away by the downpour of rain I was listening to from my haven's bedroom.  

Your mercy rains from heaven
Like confetti at a wedding
And I am celebrating
In the downpour

Your heart is wild with colour
Like a never-ending summer
You burn away the winter
Of my cold and weary heart

My soul cries out holy, holy
My heart is lost in Your beauty
All hope is found in Your mercy
You paid the price now I am
Finally free

Your grace, oh God's the anchor
That's holding me forever
Come trouble or high water
I am steadfast

Yeah, you lift me when I'm sinking
Like the swell of mighty oceans
The power of redemption
Yeah, it gives me wings to soar

My soul cries out holy, holy
My heart is lost in Your beauty
All hope is found in Your mercy
You paid the price now I am
Finally free

We'll cast our crowns before Him
Like the rusting leaves of autumn
Now every chain lies broken
And finally we're free

My soul cries out holy, holy
My heart is lost in Your beauty
All hope is found in Your mercy
You paid the price now I am
Finally free

The images of winter thawing are like the way Abba has been causing my fat to melt away.  I joke with everyone that since I'm technically not trying any particular plan, nor counting anything that it's His gift to me so I'll fit on the planes for the upcoming trip to Kenya.  (But I'm not really joking, I know the discomfort and shame I've been freed from too well.)

-and the idea of a never ending Summer to a worn thin teacher. (no words) <3 nbsp="" p="">
I'm SO #grateful for mercy, and for the beauty of His mystery being SO vast that the songwriter's heart is *lost*.

I am a beloved daughter who has been freed from the chains of hopelessness and despair.  Jesus paid my debt while I was still undeserving.

I'm still a mess.  ...just not a hopeless one.

Sunday, April 27, 2014

What's In A Name?

After I posted a picture on facebook, an old college buddy commented "Awesome photo Key!"  I "heart" that nickname!  It's my all time favorite.  There's a story behind it...but that's for another blog! :)

While teaching some super sweet girls to knit, I was reminded of my Middle School nicknames:  Burlap Becky and (drops head in shame) Hurricane Becky.  The former was because of my insane stitching skills with embroidery floss on the burlap we were using in Home Ec.  Fun times.  ....and I'm sure I don't remember why I was nicknamed for a terrible storm - unless it's referring to my early gifting for creating clutter.

Names are meaningful.  If someone were to call me Hurricane Becky, I'd be immediately tempted to be filled with shame, and even if they were joking, my feelings might be hurt & when my Grandmother called out "Rebecca Sue!!!" I knew I was in deep doo doo (...probably for creating a hurricane of a mess).  

Names like nicknames have to do with reputation.  When I heard that a little Kinder had a former colleague of mine for her teacher, I knew she was in incredibly capable hands and was having a great Kindergarten experience - just because I heard my colleague's name.

Then there's the name drop.  Yeah, we've all done it!  It can be fun. :)

I was recently asked how I wanted my name to appear on a certificate.  Struggling with it, I chose to have "Becca" put on the certificate (like Cher). Being in the awkward position of being separated and not yet divorced, part of me wanted to avoid the confusion and hurt all together.

Becca is a nick name someone very dear began calling me about the time in college when I was beginning to REALLY own my faith and committing to the journey of putting myself under Christ's lordship - being known as His.  

When I hear her, or other dear friends call me by that name, my heart is flooded with the fun of Christ's love, the sweetest of mercy covers me, and I am aware of the intensity of Abba's never-ending commitment to me.  The friend who first started calling me Becca knows me like no one else- flaws and all, and yet she loves me to pieces like Jesus does. 

If I had chosen my maiden name for the certificate, I would feel like I was erasing or turning my back on all of the *meaningful* suffering, joy and growth that happened because of my marriage to Kip.  Since Becca is a form of the name my parents gave me,  I didn't feel like I was dissing the family name by not including it.  

Yet, at the same time, I felt that if I had chosen to have my married name on the certificate, it would mean that I was holding on to the doormat version of me who didn't realize her worth to the Prince of Peace who conquered fear.  

In looking for a particular story about a name, I went to Biblegateway.com and entered in the search term "name".  I was floored at all the different ways names are used in scripture.  ...and I wish I had all day to delve further into it, but here's a short summary:  

Genesis - Adam's first job was to name God's creation.  What an honor!!  There were references to reputation and lineage, and the names themselves are often significant. Especially when they are changed.  Jacob changed to Israel after wrestling with God.  Abram changed to Abraham after receiving the promised God had made so many years before.  

Then there's this:
Proverbs 18:10
New American Standard Bible (NASB)
10 The name of the Lord is a strong tower;
The righteous runs into it and is [a]safe.

There's power and safety in the name of our Lord.   The sick are healed with just the mention of Jesus' name.  (Now *that's* a name drop worth repeating endlessly!)

...and this:  
Matthew 5:22
New International Version (NIV)
22 But I tell you that anyone who is angry with a brother or sister[a][b] will be subject to judgment. Again, anyone who says to a brother or sister, ‘Raca,’[c] is answerable to the court. And anyone who says, ‘You fool!’ will be in danger of the fire of hell.

Then names we call each other matter.  It is how we know that we are known.  

John 20 -  I might not respond with love if I were called "woman", but I'm hoping that "woman" is how they used to say "ma'am" back then!  Even still, just look at what happens when Jesus uses her name.  Isn't being known beautiful?

11 Now Mary stood outside the tomb crying. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb 12 and saw two angels in white, seated where Jesus’ body had been, one at the head and the other at the foot.  13 They asked her, “Woman, why are you crying?”  “They have taken my Lord away,” she said, “and I don’t know where they have put him.” 14 At this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not realize that it was Jesus. 15 He asked her, “Woman, why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?” Thinking he was the gardener, she said, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will get him.” 16 Jesus said to her, “Mary.”  She turned toward him and cried out in Aramaic, “Rabboni!” (which means “Teacher”).  17 Jesus said, “Do not hold on to me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father. Go instead to my brothers and tell them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’”  18 Mary Magdalene went to the disciples with the news: “I have seen the Lord!” And she told them that he had said these things to her.

Becca seemed the best fit for my certificate as a way of honoring the core of my identity...the unchanging part characterized by the newness that is constantly generated because of the presence of the Holy Spirit. 

Saturday, April 12, 2014

Simplified Hope

Today I feel lonely for what seems the first time in years.  The loneliness is so much deeper than ever before though.  Before Kip's alcoholism and rage took over, he really was a supportive, fun, God fearing, humble man...and had been my very best friend for a dozen years.    

He completed me.  He knew when to make me laugh because I was taking events (or myself) too seriously.  He knew when I needed one of our patented "hide in me" hugs.  He also demonstrated tender leadership by knowing when to ask me to simplify...because I often let things get too complex and overextend myself (I still do) He loved the creativity, tenderness  and depth that I added to his world, and said that I kept him grounded...but I think it was the other way around.  Knowing I felt less than what a good Southern wife should be, he even bragged on my Hamburger Helper prep skills to his aspiring foodie mama. (Ok, he wasn't perfect...)

There's a certain numbness in the aftermath of trauma.  I noticed when it wore off after my crash last February, and I'm noticing it now.  The trauma of having to leave the hope of my best friend restored was almost more devistating than having him turn on me as he did.  My numbness is wearing off and I'm feeing a little (maybe more than a little) empty. 

Hope makes living possible.

Hope, we're told in Romans, does not disappoint.  Hope is what kept me going when the going got very painful.  During the ripping apart of our marriage, I held onto this Romans passage just as tightly as I had during every other trial I had ever been through. 

Romans 5:3-5
Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God 's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.

I think a lot of my healing has been in redefining where I put my hope.   In his tender mercy He let me be numb for a time of healing.  Losing hope was harder than losing Kip.  He also let me be blind to my loneliness while I healed.  He even let me self anesthetize with ice cream so I would humbly see how I choose to sin in the same way Kip did, and also so I would be able to recognize how deep the roots of idolatry have been entangled in my heart for most of my life.  

Which brings me back to today's revelation.  I'm lonly.  Tapioca pudding didn't make it better.  Net Flix didn't make it better.  Mimicking Abba in creating a pretty (and functional) guitar strap didn't help, no matter how many likes I got on Facebook or Instagram.  Last week, I spent my heart loving on my students and their parents.  I even tried to work on being more faithful and diligent in attempting to perfect difficult (for me) tasks.  Godly or innocuously ok pursuits (except for the slothfulness and gluttony, right?)

But my focus wasn't on God himself.  I was spending all my time and energy serving the created rather than my first love, the Creator.

Funny how this was the song I worked on playing all day today...and the lyrics didn't hit me until just now.  


Coming back (again) to my First Love, simply because He's truly what my heart hopes for, and... He's my world. ❤️

And then there's the old hymn verse that reminds me "my hope is built on nothing less than Jesus' blood and righteousness...on Christ (my first love) the solid rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand,

...all other ground is sinking sand.

Sunday, April 6, 2014

A Prodigal Daughter's Song

1. Abba I have strayed from you
Even though I stayed at home
Thinking my good deeds would earn Your love.

You want my heart

2. I cling to you out of fear
of losing you for good
But the fear drives a wedge between us

You want my trust

3. I'm further away than
My brother who left us
Oh how Your heart must grieve for both of us

You want our love

I think this is the Chorus: 

Take away this crutch that keeps me lame
Make straight the path
that will bring me home
A prodigal laid bare before your throne

This could be an ending: 
then...
In freedom I can
pour out my love
Dance at Your feet
Offer my heart ....up to you

& I will carry my cross
Go where You lead
I'll worship you alone ....in our Home

Broken Jars, Tardiness and Redeeming Love


Last night as I'm reading through Matthew 26, I was thinking how often I'm like Judas.  I get filled with righteous indignation about what isn't working out according to my own sense of justice.  ...and for the first time I pitied him.  I've always had a hard time imagining that God would call someone to follow Him and minister in His name if he was so evil.

This morning I woke up early, excited (and maybe a little nervous to see what I would learn about Judas and the beautiful woman who anointed Jesus so lovingly.  There was no way I could be late.  I had plenty of time to shower, eat breakfast, play guitar, crochet, walk and play with the dog ....and apparently misjudge how long it takes to get to hickory from the other end of Startown Road.

I sulked into church late (again), filled with shame, and listening to my own critical self contempt filled voice "Being late is a sign of arrogance.  You don't value God enough to be on time to church.  How can you trust your Yahweh when you won't risk encountering His people on Sunday morning?" 

I was grateful the message started, if only to drown out the ugly inner voice I was giving audience to.  Thankfully the voice of Love, reason, and teaching took main stage while the other yucky mean voice waited quietly on the sideline.

During Pastor Paul's teaching, I began to realize that Martha, with her busy formal food prep, and Judas, with his legalistic prudence, were falling back on what they knew to do before meeting Jesus:  hard work and the sacrifice of denial.  Their own power was used instead of choosing to rest, wonder, and  and wait in the midst of the Mystery.  I'm a lot like them both. Someone wrongs me and I start screaming inside "Injustice!!  Injustice!! Burn her at the steak!" (Or the more biblical "Lord, smite my enemy!")

The Mystery is such a wonderful place to discover- a place filled with perfect love, gentle and humble justice, it's as fluid as the Spirit and yet deeply rooted and unshakable.  The mystery is an oxymoron and yet homogenous at the same time.

I don't have the strength to do works that look good or that keep the ugly voice of self contempt silent.  I don't have it in me to easily choose relationship with my redeemer over my opinion of justice.

The band returns, and we start singing: 

By grace alone somehow I stand
Where even angels fear to tread
Invited by redeeming love 
Before the throne of God above

He pulls me close with nail scarred hands into his everlasting arms!

When condemnation grips my heart and Satan tempts me to despair, 
I hear the voice that scatters fear; the Great I Am, The Lord is here.

O Praise the One who fights for me, and shields my soul eternally!

I hear a new voice saying "Cease striving. I love you. You are SO precious to Me I died for you."  
Suddenly the self critical voice from before FLEES!  My Kinsman Redeemer paid the price for my sins long ago.  How quickly I forget.

Boldly I approach the throne, Grateful now I'm running home
By your blood I come welcomed as your own into the arms of majesty!