Lessons from Second Grade Girls

At my church this school year, I'm teaching the second grade girls in the mid-week program. I saw the appeal for teachers on Facebook on a Monday night and I felt drawn to it, but I'm not a religion teacher.

Surely there was someone more qualified. I argued this point with God.

Besides, I had other plans on the first night of class, so it had to be that someone else was destined to teach second grade this year. Tell you what; I bargained with the big man upstairs, if the ad is still in the Sunday bulletin, I will talk to Amy about it. But, I'm not the person, so you need to have someone else step up.

Do you know that bargaining rarely works with God?

Yeah, but I had my hopes. And here I am with 6 adorable, innocent little girls looking up to me one night each week.

And the truth is I feel inadequate. Surely, there is a soccer mom or a home schooling mom or a pastor wife mom who would be so much better at this than I would. The key word in that sentence is mom, and that is something I am not. Momma Girl to a fur baby doesn't count.

But I show up each week, and I ask God to give me the words and to fill in the gaps I might create. I pray that He will give me what I need.

It came to me as I lay here tonight, that maybe my being not a mom is the reason God has called me. My singleness isn't a topic of conversation with the second graders, but it's no secret. Maybe one of these sweet children will one day need to know that it's okay to be single and going on 50. Possibly 40 years down the road, it will be one of them struggling with being single in a married church. Being childless in a mom population. Needing to know there is life and love and happiness without a husband or children.

I'll be honest. Singleness is something I have never wanted to claim. I was the girl who wanted to get married young, have six kids, and be Grammy by the time I was hitting 50.

When my two younger sisters got engaged before me, I railed at God about the unfairness of it all. My baby sister was only 18 when her husband popped the question. I told her, it's not right, a younger sister getting married before the older.

Her response was a simple; I want to have kids before I'm too old.

Wow, she couldn't have known at that age how true her words would be because I'm still not married, and she has approached the age at which it soon would be too late for her to have kids. Good thing she's strong willed and has always known what she's wanted.

Both of my sisters became incredible moms, and I never once held it against either of them that they got married before I did. (My brother went off and got married young and had kids also, but it wasn't quite the same when the older brother got married before me!) I love all of their kids and relish my role of auntie.

Somewhere in my early 40s I came to realize that my having kids was not part of God's plan for me. He had another road for me to travel. It was hard and beautiful and heartbreaking, but truth is I wouldn't have walked away from this road because God had an incredibly important role for me, and he was there holding my hand the whole way. Along that road, he showed me how he had been working in my life. He filled me with the amazing knowledge that this was part of the plan.

And part of that plan was to teach second grade girls.

There are still nights that I wonder if I am really teaching them anything, but I try to remember that showing up, loving on them, listening to them - that's important. I trust that God is using my participation to minister to them in some way. Then a couple of weeks ago, one of the moms told me that her daughter loves coming because she really admires me. That made my heart sing!

No, most of life is not what I would have chosen, but God has his plans. And one thing I've learned is that God's plan is always better than mine.

I Live in a Box

I live in a box. Not literally – I am very thankful for my little house with its running water, electricity, and heat.

No, my box surrounds me, but others cannot see it. I try to hide it from everyone but those very close to me, and even then, I don’t always let people know.

The walls of my box are comfort, fear, complacency, uncertainty. I sit in my box with my fingers in my ears. Sound seeps in, so I sing to myself. “Lalalalala, I cannot hear you.” Truth is I can hear. No matter how loud I sing or how deep I stuff my fingers, I can still hear.

It is God. The rustling I hear outside my box. He moves around me, touching my walls. Whispering words of courage, conviction, love. His voice always permeates my barriers.

I try harder. I pick up my box and run. God runs after me, loving me, not willing to let me flounder in my current situation.

He sees the future. I cannot. I try, but just cannot. I try to trust because He loves. Trust is hard, but it shouldn’t be. That stepping into the unseen fills me with trepidation. My heart pounds against my ribcage. It hurts, but it is not physical pain. It is the pain of hearing God and hesitating. This is not who I am called to be. My human sight focuses on the now, ignoring the divine and leaving me in this place where God never meant for me to live.

It is easier here in my comfort and complacency I think to myself. But then the fear and uncertainty push in. No, it is not easier here in this hiding from God, so I poke my head out of my box.

“There you are. I’ve been waiting for you.” God speaks and I know it will be okay, this living on the outside of my box. With God, it will be okay.

Fingerprint Friday

Fingerprint Friday is the brainchild of Beki at The Rusted Chain. I love the idea of looking for God's fingerprint in our lives so I've decided to make this a regular post.

Fingerprint Friday is based on these words from the beautiful song by Steven Curtis Chapman:

I can see the fingerprints of god

When I look at you

I can see the fingerprints of god

And I know its true

You're a masterpiece

That all creation quietly applauds

And you're covered with the fingerprints of god

 

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: ~Ecclesiastes 3:1 NIV

Things, They are a Changing

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: ~Ecclesiastes 3:1 NIV

For some reason, fall reminds me of these verses in Ecclesiastes more than other seasons. I’ve always loved fall and after the summer we had this year, fall was more welcome than ever. Fall, for me, is a time of renewal and regeneration. It’s a time of cleaning out and planning for the future.

Since I went on a blogging hiatus earlier this year I’ve had trouble getting back into the swing of things. Thoughts of the blog and it’s direction still swirl in my head. For those dear readers who are still sticking with me, thank you. I will be back to a more regular schedule soon.

The Ecclesiastes verses have been wandering around my heart the last few months. I have a feeling  there are changes in the air, not only for the seasons and this blog, but in my life. The words community, intentionality, transparency are riding the waves of change. I don’t know exactly what that means. I can tell you that there is a bit of trepidation surrounding all this. Change and growth come with pain and well, I’m not so much a fan of pain. And I’ve been hiding from God on some of these issues the last few months for exactly that reason. In case you’re wondering, hiding from God is hard…He usually finds a girl. I do have a couple of posts that I’m working on relating to some of these things.

So, that’s a little bit of where I’ve been recently. My goal is to have a real post for you next week. In the meantime, enjoy a little pumpkin spice latte and the beautiful colors that come with the season!

Days of Mundane Faithfulness

What will you do in the days of mundane faithfulness?

This quote comes from Martin Luther, the German monk and professor of theology. I first saw the quote when my pastor’s wife began a new blog using this quote as her springboard.

Since I began reading her blog this thought has wandered around in my brain and my heart. It echoes through the quiet times and roars at those chaotic times when my faith is being tested.

The thing about this question is that it gets to core of faith for me. I’ve been asking myself, “What do you do with your days of mundane faithfulness, Tammie?” (Yes, I do ask myself fully formed questions and address myself by name, but that’s fodder for another post all together. Or perhaps a visit with a therapist!)

When I really consider my faith, I realize that in times of ease I put my faith on autopilot and don’t think much about it. In the quiet times I live as I will. I don’t ever think it consciously, but when life is easy peasy I’m like a toddler, “I can do it myself.”

Then the garbage disposal springs a leak or the brakes need to be fixed or my shoulder hurts like the dickens and suddenly I don’t want to do it myself, I want God to be there for me.

Since faith is all about relationship with God, this model really isn’t great. What kind of a relationship can thrive when one party only comes knocking when they need something?

It’s been sobering as I have mulled the Luther quote for the last few weeks. I know it’s way too common for me to not really live out my faith in those mundane days. And, that’s not the kind of Christian I want to me.

So, this week I’m asking myself, “Tammie, what WILL you do with your days of mundane faithfulness?”

 

 

 

Fingerprint Friday

Fingerprint Friday is the brainchild of Beki at The Rusted Chain. I love the idea of looking for God's fingerprint in our lives so I've decided to make this a regular post.

Fingerprint Friday is based on these words from the beautiful song by Steven Curtis Chapman:

I can see the fingerprints of god

When I look at you

I can see the fingerprints of god

And I know its true

You're a masterpiece

That all creation quietly applauds

And you're covered with the fingerprints of god

 

Long Summer Update

Well, I’m back from hiatus, but I haven’t really blogged a whole lot other than pictures. When I scheduled my hiatus back in May I had no idea how important this time off was going to be for me.

About this time of year I usually write a post about how tired I am of the heat and how I detest the heat. I sometimes say things like “this is the summer of my discontent.” Really, though, every summer gets that way because I don’t like heat and I don’t tolerate it well at all.

The only thing about this summer that is different is that the heat started early and hit us with a vengeance. I have family who live in places that get much hotter than it usually gets here and they are always surprised that I don’t have A/C. I always tell them it’s because the weather rarely gets hot enough to really need it. This summer I longed for A/C like crazy.

The summer was tough for my city and my state. I’ve been on the outskirts of all that has happened and some say that we out here on the fringe weren’t really affected. I don’t believe that’s true. While not directly affected we feel the effects especially when it happens to friends and people we know. My heart has cried out over the things that have happened.

See, our summer started with a bad rain storm in early May. I’ve probably said this before, but this is a semi-arid state. We need moisture pretty much all the time. Rain like this doesn’t really help. The rain came in torrents in early May. Not for a long duration, but in buckets. So much rain that streets flooded and cars floated.

Not only was there rain, there was hail. Estimates to fix roofs and automobiles were in the millions.

Just weeks later I was at Dad’s on a Saturday when I saw a plume of smoke over the northwest part of the city. It was a forest fire burning in a canyon just outside the city limits. Being semi-arid forest fires are common. Still, we’ve never experienced one so close to the city.

Through the work of firefighters and other emergency crews the fire was kept at bay for three days. The Tuesday after the fire started an outflow wind whipped the fire up the canyon wall and it raced down the other side into the city.

People had already been evacuated and many were still in the process of leaving the area as the fire burned into populated areas. Pictures that afternoon showed a hideous orange-black horizon with long lines of cars making their way to safety. One family from my church was evacuating in that line of cars. The mom and daughter were in one car and dad was in another car. While trying to calm her daughter the mom was praying as she wondered if the fire would roar right over their car or whether they would die from suffocation.

My house is approximately 25 miles from where the fire entered the city and that night we had smoke and ash billowing over our part of the city also. I was glued to the TV and Facebook that night as pictures of homes burning were showed. Before the night was over 347 homes burned to the ground and 2 people died.

It was unlike anything this city has ever experienced. The community, though, came together and supported each other in a way I didn’t think possible. It made me proud to be a part of the city.

As the city began the recovery and rebuilding process the heat raged on. We get only a handful of days that get above 90 degrees in a normal summer and they come in late July or August. This year we had day upon day of 90 plus degree days starting in June and not ending until just a few weeks ago. I told my dad today, “Hard to believe that in the past 75-80 degree temperatures were hot for me and now when I see them in the forecast I rejoice for the cooler weather.”  Needless to say, this fall loving girl is just waiting for the cooler weather.

Just a week or so after the fire was contained and life moved on, the state woke up to the news that a man had walked into a crowded theater in a suburb of Denver and opened fire killing 12 people and injuring 58 others. Again, I was on the outskirts of this tragedy, but my heart broke for the families involved.

The saying goes that tragedy comes in threes and this summer proved that right. A few weeks after the shooting in Denver a local motorcycle police officer was responding to a call and was fatally injured in a traffic accident. The city reeled after yet another senseless tragedy.

In the midst of this hard summer there were some bright spots for me. In late June my siblings all came to town. Twelve of my fifteen immediate family members were all together at the same time. I love my family and enjoyed the chaos of having them all around.

Just days after the last of the family members left I flew off to visit my extended family in the heartland. Have I ever told you how much I love my family? It was a great vacation with aunts, uncles, and cousins.

This summer has a lot of people questioning and in pain. I try to cling to what I know is true and that is found in this verse.  “I am still confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.” Psalm 27:13

In future posts I will give you some insight on my vacation and I will reveal to you how I ended up with a streak of green hair!

Fingerprint Friday

Fingerprint Friday is the brainchild of Beki at The Rusted Chain. I love the idea of looking for God's fingerprint in our lives so I've decided to make this a regular post.

Fingerprint Friday is based on these words from the beautiful song by Steven Curtis Chapman:

I can see the fingerprints of god

When I look at you

I can see the fingerprints of god

And I know its true

You're a masterpiece

That all creation quietly applauds

And you're covered with the fingerprints of god

This is a piece I wrote for another blog, but it's about a place I see the fingerprint of God a lot in my writing.

            I sit on a porch of a cabin tucked back in the woods away from the rest of the world. The forest around me is alive with the sounds of insects and birds. The heat of the day hasn’t begun to set in yet. During a pause in my writing two tiny gold finches perch on the feeder just feet from me and I enjoy their presence. Once the tippity tap of my computer keyboard begins they take flight. Peacefulness envelopes me.

            The cabin belongs to my uncle and is far from my home base near the Rocky Mountains. I stay here when I’m visiting family in the heartland. I love this place and my heart often yearns to return here.

            When I dream of being a full-time writer supporting myself with the work of my craft it is this place I imagine. The kind of place where my spirit is at rest and I can shut out the rest of the chaotic world and reconnect. It is here that I feel closest to the work God has given me in my words.

            As I sit here I realize that while this place is wonderful, it is not where God has me at this point in life. My world is miles away in the city and I love that world also. Someday, this may be what God calls me to, but for now He has called me to something very different and has blessed me with this time of rest and renewal away from it all.

            So, what’s a writer like me supposed to do when I can’t sit on the porch of a cabin in the woods (or on a beach or wherever this place is for you) on a regular basis? Am I to just put my work on hold when I can’t plug into this source of rest?

            I don’t believe that’s the case. I think God gives us these places in our life to encourage us and fill us, but we don’t have to be in specific place to connect to our inner most writer. I think the key is being able to find places and time in our daily lives to visit the place of our inspiration in our mind and heart. It’s a learning of separating ourselves for a few minutes or a few hours wherever God may have us.

The key isn’t in this porch or these woods, it’s inside me. It’s just easier to find that place while I’m here because the distractions of the world are far away, hidden from my sight by the green trees and sounds of nature. When I return to the city, I return to my life, but I carry this feeling, this place with me wherever I go.



Call of a Coward: The God of Moses and the Middle-Class Housewife

Today I would like to introduce you to a dear friend of mine, Marcia Moston. She is one of those women who knows that when God calls we have to answer even in the face of our own fear. Marcia has a new book coming out on August 7th. Call of a Coward; The God of Moses and the Middle-Class Housewife is the beautiful story of how God took one woman from a place of comfort into the unknown and showed her she could thrive there.  Marcia's book is an honest and moving account of her family's time as missionaries in Guatemala and how that prepared them for a season pastoring a small church in Vermont.








More about Marcia:

1.       Tell us about yourself.

                Although I hold degrees in sociology and Christian education, most of what I’ve learned has been by the proverbial seat of my pants. I’ve taught English in a Christian high school, worked with orphans in a Mayan village, led mission teams to Central America, delivered Yellowbooks, stuffed vending machines, and lived in everything from tepees to parsonages.

                I love to share the stories and lessons I’ve learned along the way about what a very real God can do with the smallest of our offerings. My first and most dear word from the Lord is Be still and know that I am God—Psalm 46:10.

                Visit me at http://marciamoston.com

2.       Your writing experience is unusual in that until 2008, you’d never written anything, but by 2011 you had a book contract with Thomas Nelson. How did that happen?

                I am grateful to have experienced such abundant grace and blessing on my work. When we moved to the South a few years ago, I had a singular image in my mind: buy a house with a pool where I could sit and write.  Although I didn’t know what I would write, nor did I know how to write a book, it was as though my story’s time had come, and I needed a nesting spot.

                I took a writing workshop taught by the editor of the city journal. At the end of the class, she offered me my own weekly column. That’s when I realized I could write something that people would read.

                I continued to take workshops and go to conferences. In 2010, my manuscript won at the Blue Ridge Christian Writers Conference. I also won a self-publishing package, but turned it down because I felt constrained to wait.

                Later in the year, I entered the Women of Faith Writing Contest and won a self- publishing package from WestBow Press. Unbeknownst to me, Thomas Nelson was looking at my book, and a month after it came out, offered me a contract.

3.       Many traditional publishers avoid memoir. Do you have any advice for someone who hopes to publish a memoir?

                The first agent I approached told me no one would publish a memoir from an unknown. He suggested I turn my story into magazine articles. Although I didn’t do it at the time, I think his advice is good. Memoirists need the exposure magazines give.

                My path to publication, however, was through contests. I also made sure my story was about something more than me. Thomas Nelson must have agreed because they categorized my book as Christian living/spirituality.

4.       What do you hope readers will glean from your story, Call of a Coward-the God of Moses and the Middle-Class Housewife?

                A fresh confidence in the Living One Who Sees Them. A sense of expectancy in encountering him. Both the story and its path to publication are examples of the possibilities of an ordinary life in the hands of an extraordinary God. I hope readers will be inspired and encouraged that whether they travel a thousand miles or a thousand feet, God can do exceedingly more than they imagine.

5.       What advice have you found helpful to you as a writer?

                To do my part—learn the craft, be open for critique, write with guts, and then rest in Flannery O’Connor’s advice: “When a book leaves your hands, it belongs to God. He may use it to save a few souls or to try a few others, but I think that for the writer to worry is to take over God's business.”

6.       What or who has influenced you?

                I’m sure influences from thousands of books are floating around my brain, but most recently, I’ve been inspired by the  imagery and metaphors of the Bible, the essays of E.B. White and Annie Dillard, and the stories of Rick Bragg—people who capture the extraordinary in the ordinary.

7.       How did you know you should become an author?

                Unlike my fiction writing friends, I never had voices carrying on in my head (at least not the kind you talk about) or flashes of the perfect plot. But threading throughout all the other things I wanted to do in life (astronomer, archaeologist, doctor) was the idea that someday I’d write a book. Of course, as Sholem Asch so succinctly points out: “Writing comes more easily if you have something to say.” A few years ago I realized I did.

8.       Do you have a writing schedule?

                I’m a bad example here. Wisdom leans on the side of schedules and quotas, and not on the side of sporadic, task-driven efforts, which I seem to favor. I’d rather pull rusty nails out of old decking than sit in a chair all day, but if I have a specific project that has the possibility of a future, like writing an essay for the Writer’s Digest competition, or better yet—writing a second book because my first did well enough to warrant one—then I’ll sit, and write, and squirm until I’ve got something. I always need the first line of every section before I can go on. (It may change, but I have to have a satisfactory one at first.)

9.       Are you working on a second book?

                Yes. My working title is Going South-the God of my Mistakes. When we moved south, we didn’t expect our plans to go south too—but it’s really a story of hope.

10.    Tell us about Call of a Coward-the God of Moses and the Middle-Class Housewife.      

                It’s about laying aside your hopes, dreams, and fears to follow God even though where He’s leading seems to require credentials you lack and courage you don’t think you have. And about discovering just how personal and gracious He is. Here’s my opening:

                The problem with promising God you’ll follow Him wherever He leads is that you just might have to go.

                 I suspect it would be easier if you were certain of His calling—like stepping out the door and seeing the lilac bush on fire and hearing a voice commanding you. But when it’s your husband who is delivering the message—well, that leaves a little room for wonder.

                At least that’s how I felt when my husband rocked my comfortable middle-class afternoon with his belief God was calling us to pack up and move to a Mayan village in Guatemala.

Permission link: Excerpted from Call of a Coward: The God of Moses and the Middle Class House-Wife. Thomas Nelson ©2012. Used by permission of Thomas Nelson, Inc. www.thomasnelson.com.

11.   How were you personally impacted working on the project?

                Recording events and later rewriting them helped me to see just how involved God was (and is!) in my journey. I gained a deeper appreciation of his grace, and then after the manuscript won several contests, including the women of Faith writing contest, I realized it was a message bigger than my personal story.

12.   Is there anything else you would like readers to know?

It was with fear and trembling that I put my name on the same line as Moses’, but the story is not about me or Moses; it’s about the God who is the same yesterday, today, and forever.

Call of a Coward: The God of Moses and the Middle-Class Housewife is available online at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Christian Book Distributors or from your neighborhood bookstore.



Fingerprint Friday and Book Giveaway Winner!

Fingerprint Friday is the brainchild of Beki at The Rusted Chain. I love the idea of looking for God's fingerprint in our lives so I've decided to make this a regular post.

Fingerprint Friday is based on these words from the beautiful song by Steven Curtis Chapman:

I can see the fingerprints of god

When I look at you

I can see the fingerprints of god

And I know its true

You're a masterpiece

That all creation quietly applauds

And you're covered with the fingerprints of god

Speaking of songs, do you remember the old Garth Brooks song that talks about some of God's greatest gifts are unanswered prayers. Recently I had the opportunity to see how a prayer from long ago might have turned out if God had answered in the way I thought He should. I have to say that His plan really was better than mine.

I see the fingerprint of God in the way He orchestrates my life even through unanswered prayers.

Giveaway Winner!

Congratulations to Lisa from That's What She Said for having her comment picked by Random.org!

Fingerprint Friday

Fingerprint Friday is the brainchild of Beki at The Rusted Chain. I love the idea of looking for God's fingerprint in our lives so I've decided to make this a regular post.

Fingerprint Friday is based on these words from the beautiful song by Steven Curtis Chapman:

I can see the fingerprints of god

When I look at you

I can see the fingerprints of god

And I know its true

You're a masterpiece

That all creation quietly applauds

And you're covered with the fingerprints of god

God's fingerprint really is all around us in the simplest to the most complex things. This week I am enjoying these little bits of God...

1. In the soft nuzzle of my kitty cat's head against my cheek when he wakes me up in the morning and the low, gentle purr he emits.


2. The fresh scent of grass and earth after the rain that is so needed to drench our dry land.


3.My dad's deep chuckle as we talk.


4. The gaping hole in my nephew's mouth that signifies his first lost tooth. This too is part of God's plan for our bodies.


5. The juicy, sweet taste of strawberries.



Fingerprint Friday is the brainchild of  Beki at The Rusted Chain. I love the idea of looking for God's fingerprint in our lives so I've decided to make this a regular post.

Fingerprint Friday is based on these words from the beautiful song by Steven Curtis Chapman:

I can see the fingerprints of god

When I look at you

I can see the fingerprints of god

And I know its true

You're a masterpiece

That all creation quietly applauds

And you're covered with the fingerprints of god

Today's fingerprint is the simple beauty in spring blooms as seen in this photo.

I first saw this on Lisa's blog and thought it was a good point so I wanted to share it here.

Thanks, Lisa, for posting this originally.

"For attractive lips, speak words of kindness.

For lovely eyes, seek out the good in people.

For a slim figure, share your food with the hungry.

For poise, walk with the knowledge that you will never walk alone.

People, even more than things, have to be 

restored, renewed, revived, reclaimed and redeemed.

Never throw out anyone."

~Audrey Hepburn

Good Friday

They call it Good Friday, but it commemorates the day Jesus died. We hung him on a cross and let the life seep out of him. Then he lay in a tomb for three days.

I often wonder about the people who were there, his followers. What were those three days like? I can only imagine the darkness that descended on them. They called him friend and messiah, but then he was gone. It must have been devastating for them.

Thankfully he didn’t stay in that tomb. He rose and lives. The followers rejoiced on that third day.

We call it Good Friday because of the sacrifice that Jesus made for us. We know that he rose so we can mark Good Friday with hope and a quiet joy.

Praying the hope and joy of the Lord encompasses you this Easter weekend.

Sara's Story

This was originally posted in March 2010, but I wanted to post it again. This week before Easter I find myself pondering what it was like, what people thought, how they must have felt during those days when Jesus lay in the tomb. And as I think about these things I am once again thankful He didn't remain in that tomb; that He rose again and conquered death.


The sun is high the sky as I head out to meet Mara at the market. I had finished my chores in record speed so we could have all afternoon to enjoy.

There is an awful lot of noise in the square this afternoon; not the usual noise of merchants hawking their wares. This is yelling and angry voices. I wonder what is going on. As I round the corner I see a huge crowd and there is Pilate standing on the stairs. Making my way to the front of the people I keep looking for Mara. There is a lot of murmuring, but I don’t know what it is all about.

“They say he performs miracles.”

“He is possessed of a demon; that’s why he can cast them out.”

“But did you hear, he raises people from the dead?”

“I heard he was going to tear down the temple and build it back up in three days. Such nonsense.”

“Sara, Sara, over here.” Hearing my name I turn to the left and see my friend.

“Mara, what is going on?” I yell out to her as I push past others to make my way to her side.

Mara’s eyes are wide with fear. “They have arrested that man they call Jesus and Pilate is investigating.”

I had heard of this Jesus before. He had been traveling in the area and drawing a lot of attention. People either loved him or hated him. I didn’t know what the fuss was all about.

The noise quiets down as Pilate begins to speak, “I find this man guilty of no capital crime. I will order a flogging and release him.”

The uproar around Mara and me is horrendous. When it quiets down Pilate speaks, “Very well then as is the custom, I will release one prisoner. Should I release Jesus or Barabas?”

“Barabas, Barabas, Barabas.” The crowd roars back to Pilate.

“Mara, I can’t believe it. Barabas is a murderer and they want to let him go free. That is crazy. They haven’t proven Jesus guilty of anything as bad.” Something wasn’t right here and I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“I know Sara, it is so sad.”

“What should I do with Jesus?” Pilate questioned the crowd.

“Crucify him!”

We watch in disbelief as they put a crown of thorns around Jesus’ head and lead him out of town. I know where they are taking him and I’m not supposed to go there. My parents don’t allow me to hang out at the Skull like some of the kids do. They say I don’t need to know what happens there, but I know that is where they take prisoners to die. I know I will get in trouble but I can’t stop myself. I have to see what will happen to the man with the crown of thorns.

Mara and I run to follow them as they make Jesus carry his heavy wooden cross. As we go we hear people talking about him. It seems there were as many who were upset at this turn of events as those who want him to die.

People talk of his compassion and how he heals the sick. They talk of love and beauty. Surely it wasn’t the same man they spoke of.

I see Jesus fall and go to help him up. They take his cross and find someone to help him carry it. I use my robe to wipe away the sweat and blood from his face. “Jesus, why is this happening? I hear great things about you, but they are going to kill you for no reason.” The tears flowed and I couldn’t stop them.

“Oh, little one, don’t be sad. This is my father’s work. I must do this.” The big brown eyes are full of light and something else. They look the way my daddy’s look when he looks at me. It seems Jesus loves me. Could it be?

“But Jesus, you have done no wrong. I don’t want you to go. I want to get to know you.” I sob and sob as he holds me in a tight hug.

Just then he is ripped from my arms by one of the soldiers. “Move along brat. You don’t need to be here.”

Jesus is pulled away as he says, “Child, do not worry. I will see you again in heaven. I do this for you.”

When we all arrive at the Skull there are two prisoners already hung on wooden crosses. The soldiers begin to nail Jesus to his cross. My heart aches each time the hammer comes crashing down.

“Oh Mara, this hurts so much.” I turn to my friend. She looks at me with tears in her eyes.

We sit there for hours on that dusty hill as the crowd taunts Jesus and tells him to save himself. “If you are the King of the Jews take yourself down from the cross.”

I cover my ears to drown out the horror but it seeps in.

It seems like an eternity when suddenly Jesus cried out. “It is finished.” And then he dies. The sun is blotted out and suddenly it is dark. Mara and I sit and hold each other. As I cry I remember what Jesus said. He had done this for me. He died a painful, awful death for me. Just so I could be with him in heaven.

Later they take Jesus’ body down and put it in a tomb. The place of the Skull is silent again. Mara and I head home.

Over the next few days I go about my chores, but can’t stop thinking about Jesus dying for me. He said he was doing it for me. I wasn’t sure I understand, but somehow that makes my heart happier.

Three days after his death I am at the well to get water in the early morning hours when a man approaches me. He looks familiar. “Sara, it is good to see you.”

“How do you know my name? Do I know you?” I search his face which is wreathed in bright light. When I get to his eyes I see the love and compassion and I know. “Jesus, is that you? How is it possible? I saw you die.” I run to him and hug him.

“Sara, you did see me die. But, today I have conquered death. I am as alive as you are and I will soon go to heaven with my father to wait for you.”

Oh my goodness. This is too good to be true. Jesus is alive! “Come with me to tell Mara. She will be so excited.”

“I must go to my friends, but we will stop at Mara’s on the way.” Jesus takes my hand and we head down the road to town to spread the news.

Jesus is alive! Death could not hold him in the grave!!!

Working on my Bucket List!

Back in February I created a list of 47 things I want to do this year. I’m a list maker and having a short term “bucket list” appeals to me. One of the items on my list is to memorize Psalm 139. I’ve never been good at memorizing Bible verses. I do okay for a while, but then it gets muddled and I end up saying things like, “Well, I can’t remember the exact words, but it goes something like…” Taking a year to memorize one Psalm might help engrain it in my life. A whole year, maybe it will stick :o)

Psalm 139 was one of the first things I learned after I came to know God 15 years ago. Thursday is my 15^th rebirthday! Sometimes it’s hard to believe it’s been 15 years since that night in a little church in the middle of a farmer’s field where I met the Lord, really met Him, and gave my heart to Him.

In those early days I used verses 23 and 24 as a way of letting God point out the things I needed to change. They read:

Search me, O god, and know my heart; Try me, and know my anxieties; And see if there is any wicked way in me, And lead me in the way everlasting.

It never failed that God would show me things that I needed to work on in my life. It’s been 15 years and it still never fails that He shows me things that need working on when I pray those words.

But those verses are at the end of the psalm and I’m still working on memorizing the first part. The last few weeks I have been looking at the copy of the psalm that I posted on my bathroom mirror. (The mirror is called into duty for more than just making sure I don’t have spinach stuck in my teeth!) In the first 3 verses it says that God knows me. He knows my lying down and rising up. He is acquainted with all many ways. I find comfort in the fact that is acquainted with all my ways.

He knows my thoughts, my lying down and rising up, all my ways and He STILL loves me! Each morning I see those words I am reminded that despite me, He loves me. He knows my ways, so I can’t do anything to cause Him to not love me.

What verses do you find comfort in?

Fingerprint Friday

I've recently started reading Beki from The Rusted Chain's blog. I first saw her jewelry on Facebook and fell in love with simple, whimsical design. I don't have any of the pieces yet so if you're reading this and just have the desire you know what you can bestow upon me ;o)

On her blog she has started what she calls Fingerprint Friday based on these words from the beautiful song by Steven Curtis Chapman:

I can see the fingerprints of god
When I look at you
I can see the fingerprints of god
And I know its true
You're a masterpiece
That all creation quietly applauds
And you're covered with the fingerprints of god


I love the sentiments in this song and I see the fingerprints of God all over the place. Today I'm going to join Beki and post my own story on the subject.

My hairdresser has a three year old son who last spring told his mom and dad, "I asked Jesus for a baby sister and he said yes."

Months later they found out they were expecting a baby.

Monday their beautiful daughter came into the world. She is the answer to her big brother's heartfelt prayer.

I see the fingerprint of God in the simple faith of children who are not afraid of asking Jesus for exactly what they want and then trust he will fulfill their request.

Labeling People

Source: sixninepixels / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Today I listened to the radio as drove to work and heard a quote by Max Lucado where he said that labels allow us to wash our hands and leave. Labeling people keeps us from seeing the real person beneath the label. At the very next opportunity I put the quote (as best as I could remember it since I had to wait until I was no longer driving) into my phone for future reference. But, you know how God is, future reference was apparently closer than I expected.

The reality of Max’s words sunk in and began to work. How many times have I labeled someone as obnoxious and detoured around them? Or said, “They’re emotionally needy and I just don’t have the energy for that.”  It happens and as I thought about it I realized it happens more than I’d like to admit.

Placing a label allows us to not see the person behind the words we use to categorize them. When we label someone we can overlook the real person. We can make excuses and justifications. When we label someone we do that person a disservice. More importantly, we block the path for God to use us to minister to that person.

I’m thankful that God doesn’t label me the way I’ve labeled others.  He might label me pretentious, unloving, stuck-up. Yes, I’m thankful He doesn’t do unto me as I do unto others. I’m also thankful that He keeps at me until I finally figure out what He’s trying to tell me and then He helps me to change.

Love Sucks! Or Does It?

Image: graur codrin / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

It’s that time of year again. Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. Sadly, a day meant to celebrate love often causes grief and sadness for many.

While I was in my 20s, my friends and I often held “Love Sucks” parties on Valentine’s Day. It was a time to bemoan the fact that there was no Mr. or Miss Right in our lives. I actively participated in those parties of my youth because I wasn’t content in where God had me.

The expectations of Valentine’s Day are huge and those expectations create a lot of discomfort for many people I know. As a never-been-married person I’m here to say that it can be hard to be a single on a couple day.

Somewhere along the line I let go of the expectations and embraced the day for what it should be…a day to celebrate those we love even if it’s not a romantic love. So, I’m thumbing my nose at the Teleflora and Hallmark commercials and especially the Lifetime Channel and celebrating love, just love.

The love of my savior

For great is your love toward me…  Psalm 86:13

The love of family

God sets the lonely in families… Psalm 68:6

The love of friends

A friend loves at all times…  Psalm 17:17

Celebrate those you love today!

To Give Them Beauty for Ashes

This piece was originally posted in 2007 on the Christian Writer's Forum Blog.

To console those who mourn in Zion, To give them beauty for ashes. These words come from Isaiah in Chapter 61:3. He is proclaiming to the people of Israel that he comes at God’s command to promise these things. This verse has come to mind frequently over the last year. It is a promise I cling to.

Image: akeeris / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

This morning I lay in bed with Mom while she rested and watched the trees blowing in the breeze outside the window. There is one tree at the back of the yard that has begun to change to brilliant shades of yellow and gold. As the wind blew the leaves would catch a ray of sunlight and send out a shimmering flash. The effect was that of twinkle lights on a Christmas tree. It was a beautiful sight. I was encouraged by the fact that the leaves are dying, as it is their time, but still there is beauty in that dying. As I lay there enjoying this display of God’s beauty, I was reminded of the verse in Isaiah.

My mother has a chronic illness and there is nothing beautiful about the disease process. My family mourns for her. The loss comes slowly and stealthily. It is very hard to watch her suffer. Despite this, I am able to find some beauty in this situation. This comes as a shock to some people. They don’t understand how I can say this. I won’t ever tell you that I am happy with what is happening to Mom. However, I take comfort in the fact that God is in control and I look for beauty as a reminder of His promise to give us beauty for ashes.

There is incredible beauty in my parent’s love story. Always evident, it is much more so these days. I see the love that has lasted for more than 47 years reflected in Mom and Dad’s eyes as they interact. I see how patiently and lovingly my Dad fulfills his wedding vows. He keeps going despite his own grief. There is beauty in Mom as she laughs at our silly jokes and crazy things the dog does. The changes the disease has brought cannot change the fact that Mom is a beautiful person inside and out.

I see the beauty of God’s plan for my life that has allowed me to minister to Mom and Dad in a very tangible way during this time. In January of 2007 a lay-off took my job. I met with the HR Director the day after I found out and he asked me, “How are you doing, Tamara?” I responded with the truth, “I am doing just fine.” He then asked me how I could say that considering my circumstances. The truth is I trusted that God was working in this and there was beauty in that trust.

It’s hard to lose a job through no fault of your own. Not only was I thinking about how I was going to go forward, but 22 of my coworkers were losing their jobs also. There is no beauty in having your only source of income cut off. Yet, it was this lay-off that opened the door for me to take nine months to give Mom and Dad what they needed most, time. The beauty of God’s design for my life is evident.

We all will have times of ugliness in our lives. We will have times of mourning and suffering. James tells us to expect trials in the very first chapter of his book. There is no hiding the fact that in this world there is suffering. I encourage you, though, to keep looking for the beauty in life. When you least expect it God just may give you twinkle lights on a fall tree to encourage you. He has promised He will exchange your ashes for beauty. Hold tight to that promise.