I Am a Masterpiece!

Recently I was looking in the mirror and noticed a couple of new spots and wrinkles.  I am fast approaching 60 and it is beginning to show in my face, around my eyes and even on my hands.  I could swear that brown spot or this wrinkle wasn’t there last week.  To be honest, I don’t feel anywhere close to age 60 so when I look in the mirror I am surprised to see an older woman staring back at me.  I’m active, happy and up for just about anything women much younger than me are.

As I trace the lines on my face and wrinkles on my neck, I think to myself “Wow.  How and when did I get old?” I am richly and extravagantly loved by my family and a host of sweet friends, old and new.  But still…… I often do not feel very pretty any more. 

I’m gazing into the mirror, focusing on the blemishes, scars and imperfections when I hear a sweet, still Voice :“ Oh, my lovely one.  Do you not know? You are my most precious masterpiece!”  That beautiful face has smiled thousands of smiles; that’s why there are lines around your perfectly blue eyes.  Your lips have kissed away your babies’ tears and whispered prayers in the night that no one heard but Me.  You have always loved My sunshine and it's okay that it shows on your face!

Your hands…. Aww, those hands.  How many meals have you prepared with so much love……how many little hands have you held, guiding and protecting?  You have played so many songs on your piano, simply to glorify My Name! I watched your tiny little-girl hands learn to fold and say prayers.  I delight when you raise those very same hands in worship to me!

Your belly isn’t flat anymore, as it was when you were a girl. The warrior princesses that serve in My kingdom today? Why, you covered them and protected them in your womb as I secretly knit them together.  I whispered tenderly to them even before they were born, while they grew safely in the warmth and quiet of your strong, young body.  Had it not been for you they would not have been born.

So you see, My beloved, you are far more beautiful to me than the most breathtaking snowcapped mountain range, field of wildflowers or surging ocean.  Nothing in this world compares to you. You are the masterpiece of My heart!  And, I cannot wait until I can put my arms around you and welcome you home to be with Me where the sun shines forever more!

Grown Up Mom

I recently saw a poster on the train while commuting to my job in downtown Dallas. There's a mom and 38 year old son who are having dinner together. The mom says “Don't eat too much bread; you'll spoil your dinner.” To which the son replies” Did you really just tell me not to eat too much bread?” The mom thought to her self, “If he only knew. When we are crossing a street I instinctively still reach for his hand.”

I can relate to this mom. Watching children grow up and become adults is just not that easy. You never really stop thinking of your children as the little chubby cheeked cherubs they were once upon a time. My daughters pretended to be princesses and built tents in the living room. We ate pizza on a Strawberry Shortcake sleeping bag spread on the living room floor and watched The Cosby Show. I got them up in the middle of the night just so they could go outside with me and lay on a blanket and stare at the sky hoping to catch falling stars. (To put in your pocket of course.) On hot summer days we laid on the trampoline while the sprinkler splashed us from below. When a storm came up we made Thunder Cake. The first windy day of Spring we were out to fly our new kites. So many wonderful memories. It was quite perfect, this life I shared with my little daughters.

Now I have grown-up daughters. I want them to marry wonderful young men who will love, protect and provide for them. I want them to be able to stay at home and raise babies if that's what they want. I want them to have a nice home, an SUV and a vacation now and then. They shouldn't have to worry about electric bills, tires for the car or broken hot water heaters. Those things are for grown ups, not little princesses who build castles out of Disney bedsheets. I don't want them to worry about the price of gasoline or what to make for dinner. I should still be the one to take care of these things for them.

Okay. Truth be told, in my perfect world, we would all live together in a huge house. We would share every meal together. I would read Mother Goose to my grandchildren and giggle under the covers with a flashlight when they are supposed to be asleep. I would bake cookies for them and go to all of their school programs. The guys would all go off to work to earn our living and we would live happily ever after.

Some of my friends are glad when childhood days are over and their kids are “raised”. They seem to be able to dis-connect easier than I can. I guess I am irreversibly and irrevocably tied to my children's hearts. Its seems only natural that I would want a perfect life for them. And, I suppose it's normal that I get frustrated because it's not in my power to make it happen. Oh, I know "that's life”, “life is hard” and all that. I am realistic. I do realize they have to resolve grown-up issues and make grown-up decisions. And they have to do it at times without their mom. So far they are doing quite well. I have every reason to believe they will be fine long after I'm gone. But I like to think that somewhere along the line, amongst chalk pictures on sidewalks and wading in rain puddles they picked up a few things that will help them succeed in whatever life they make for themselves. My girls will be content and happy. My job will be complete. And maybe, just maybe, I can finally let them go.

Praising in the Rain

Praising in the Rain

Although not personally in a rain storm right now, I know several people who are. Some of them I know well and some I don’t know at all. I pray when people ask me to pray and when the Holy Spirit prompts me to. I have friends with ill children; some very ill. A dear saint in our church recently found out she has breast cancer. A beloved girl whom I’ve known since she was a child is fighting cancer also. There are numerous among us without jobs and struggling financially. I write for them-those I know and love and those I do not know but love nonetheless.

It has been pouring rain for several days now here in Texas. It would seem there is a huge dark cloud has specifically chosen our wonderful state to dump on. We have needed the rain in some parts and are thankful for it. Other parts, not so much. The rain is expected to continue with thunderstorms likely. At times the rain is a soft, slow rain- good for curling up with a book. At times there is a downpour, causing flooding in low lying areas. Sometimes I hear thunder. Sometimes the wind blows so hard I think the tree branches that hang over my house will come through the ceiling!

I’m here at home alone for a few days and I do not know if my senses are especially keen because of it. What I really think is the Holy Spirit is using the time to whisper sweet somethings in my ear. I woke up at 2:22 a.m. this morning, thirsty. I sipped a cool drink of water and listened to the rain. Then I realized the rain was not the only thing I could hear outside. A bird was singing. At 2:22 in the morning. During a rainstorm. Huh. Odd on several levels. While I pondered this, sleep overtook me once again and I drifted back into dreamland to the sound of rain and a bird singing.

At 4:08 a.m. I woke up again, thirsty. I sipped another cool drink of water. It was still raining and yes, “my” bird was still singing! Then it struck me. I need to write because someone needs to hear this. Maybe Jennifer, maybe Annette, maybe Robin. Perhaps one of the young mothers who is worried about her sick child. Once again, I drifted off.

Now it is 6:30 a.m. and the bird is still outside in the rain singing at the top of its’ little bird lungs! He either does not know its raining or he doesn’t care. It has not stopped the song he must sing. The song of praising Jesus! Yes, even during the wind and the rain he is praising our Lord! Can we be like that? Of course! You see, he certainly knows it’s raining but he is not letting the rain stop his praise song. His feathers are most certainly being ruffled and I’m quite sure he’s soaked but does he care? He sure doesn’t seem to. He’s been singing at least 4 hours without taking a break.

To my dear friends who are battling cancer or some other serious malady, to the ones who face unemployment the rainstorm is a picture of what they are going through. There are days when things aren’t too bad, like when the rain is falling softly. But there are brutal days when chemo has them violently ill and they believe they cannot bear it one more day. This is the wind and thunder. Now I know they praise the Lord even in the storm. I know this because I know them. They remind me of that little bird outside my window singing all through the dark night while the storm pounded around him. They, too sing through their dark night of cancer while chemo storm racks their tired, sore bodies.
The unemployed, concerned about mortgages and car payments rely on Jehovah-jireh, the One Who provides. The young mothers who pace the floor holding hot little bodies close to their hearts are walking through a storm of illness. They are faithful followers of Christ and know they are to cast their cares upon Him, which they do. But this is their baby so they worry. They do not give up trusting Jehovah-rapha, the One Who heals. Their lullabies in the darkest of nights are praise songs to the One who is Master over the storm that rages. He is the One who calmed the sea and they remember. So they continue to praise all through the sleepless nights while fevers rage.

I am thankful, so thankful that I am in a season of peace. But I know all too well that a storm will most definitely come again. Maybe a small rain but perhaps a thunderous storm with lightening and wind awaits me or my loved ones. I pray that we, like the bird who sings in the rain, will be able to praise Him. Even in the storm.

Perpetual Restoration

Recently I had the opportunity to visit the "HOZ", a place in Dallas where people can go to pray, praise, prophesy or just simply hang out with other Christ Followers. I was among the oldest in attendance that night but it didn't seem to matter to anyone. The focus was all on the Lord. Our Holy Father, our Redeemer, Savior, Friend. I entered into a time of worship and let the distractions of the day and concerns of tomorrow fade away. The music washed over me and I felt like I was in the Presence of The Lord. As I prayed I realized the praise team was singing a song about restoration and it occurred to me (yeah right. The Holy Spirit had a word for me that night) that we aren't restored just once and that's it.... Oh no, my friend! We are constantly being renewed, refreshed and restored! The Lord will restore your body, mind and spirit if you let him. I call it Perpetual Restoration. I looked up the definition of perpetual in the dictionary: everlasting, for eternity, valid for all time. Hmmm. Sounds like something the Lord would be in the business of. Restoration is the process of coming back to the original form so it makes sense to me that He would do this. He wants us to live victoriously and whole! He is the Original Form!

Life can be rough but God is always good. And He faithfully continues to restore my soul back to where it belongs: in His outstretched everlasting arms.

Where Do Dreams Go?

This one is for Robin.

Where do dreams go when they don't come true? Do they curl up and die in a dirty corner somewhere? Are they like a red geranium that is planted with every hope of blooming but somewhere along the way gets lost?

Hopes and dreams are what keep us moving. Dreams of happiness and a good life compel us forward. We are driven by something within us that seeks contentment and fulfillment. When we are young our dreams are wild and we know no limits to what can be. The possibilities are endless! We want the knight in shining armour, the white picket fence and the two perfect children; one boy and one girl. We want them to grow up healthy and whole, then get married and give us grandchildren. Dreams are good. Hopes are real. Faith endures, except when bad choices or decisions cause us to lose our way.

It can happen overnight or little by litte. For most, small decisions like "just one drink" or "just one more pill" become giant obstacles that eventually, simply cannot be overcome. We slowly transform into someone we would never recognize if given a glimpse into the future. A slow, spiralling decent begins. Friends and family fade in search of a liquid high or a one night stand. The morning screams into reality and the cycle continues. Nothing else matters until one day you find yourself in a jail cell wondering how the hell you got there. You have literally nothing to call your own. Not a home, not a car.

I could say "you did this to yourself" and I would be right. I could say "I told you so" and it would be the truth. But you don't need to hear that. You need to hear "I'm here, Robin. I love you and I'm here." Let me show you the way back to where dreams live and where hope is alive. Take my hand, Robin. I'll lead you back home.

Finley the Fish

This morning I set out to change my beta, Finley’s, water. It was getting kind of murky and had a suspicious grunge building up along the water line. There were bits of unidentifiable objects floating on the surface but Finley just swam around oblivious to the declining condition of his home.

I got a big plastic bowl and dumped him into it, dirty water and all. He doesn’t seem to mind this part. I emptied his fish bowl and rinsed it well, scrubbing the water line of the build-up of who knows what. I agitated the rocks in the water to clean them as well and the silly leaf he sometimes hides under and even naps on. I filled the clean bowl with clean water and dropped in the tablet that would fizz and remove the chlorine from Finley’s new water, making it safe for him to live and breathe in.

His bowl had been made ready by me, his master and now came the part that makes my dear little fish very nervous. I dipped the green net into his temporary holding tank and Finley commenced to darting around looking for a way of escape. Of course, there not being one, I finally corner him (if you can corner a fish in a round bowl) and he has no choice but to submit to me by way of the net. I tell him “Finley, chill. Your bowl is sparkling clean and has all the gunk removed. You’ll love it!” But even in those few nano-seconds that he is suspended in midair as he is transferred to his clean new environment he fights and struggles to be free. He would literally throw himself out of the grasp of my hand on the net if I did not cover him there.

Wow! Aren’t we like that with the Lord? He removes us from the nastiness of the world, often against our will. He prepares a clean new world and even covers us during the transition from the old to the new. I’m like Finley! I can hear the Lord saying, “Vonnie, chill. I’ve removed all the gunk from your world. Now, relax, breathe, enjoy, live, thrive!” But it is uncomfortable moving out of the familiar; even if the familiar is not all the Lord wants for me. Come to think of it, the familiar is rarely what the Lord wants for me. He regularly transitions me from one level to the next in some area of my life. I may resist (most often I do) and it is never comfortable but even as I struggle, He lovingly covers me with His hand. He knows what waits for me; He knows what’s best for me. He has prepared living water for me and it is good.

Mobile Community

There are a number of us that ride the same commuter bus to and from downtown Dallas every day. Over the last couple of years we have come to know each other on various levels. I have talked to a lot of them and know some of their stories.

There’s Susan who works from home most of the time but once a week goes in to the office. Paula recently lost her husband and has had to re-enter the work force. Brandon sometimes dozes off and asked me to nudge him if he starts to snore. There’s Nina, the lovely young Muslim woman who grew up in Africa. We speak openly with one another about our beliefs. We watch for each other now and I pray daily for her salvation. Today she gave me a gift: one of her beautiful shawls.

There’s the young man who boards the bus and immediately pulls his sweatshirt hood over his face, slinks into a back seat and goes to sleep. There is the chubby Hispanic lady who doesn’t speak English but greets all of us with a huge smile every morning. There is the handicapped man who sometimes doesn’t make his connection. If we see him struggling to make it, we ask the driver to please wait. And he does. There’s the doctor who rides to the hospital in his scrubs who sits beside the construction worker holding a hard hat in his lap. A young girl reads the latest Harry Potter novel while the middle aged woman next to her reads a Beth Moore study guide.

Once, a teenage boy fell asleep on my shoulder. His father saw and started to wake him but I shook my head, “No. Let him sleep.” There was the 5 year old riding with his grandmother who was infatuated with me and told me he was in love with me.

We know who gets off at which stop and notice when someone is not there that day. A few have had surgeries and there have been a couple of broken feet and wrists. We celebrate with the injured when the cast finally comes off.

The riders of Route 204 only see each other once or twice a day and only for the 40-45 minute ride to and from work. We connect and converse as we commute and while it might not be the “model” for community, in that bit of time we share our lives and it's good.