10000.Reasons

The word for 2012 is miracles. Twelve months ago, I didn't expect that to describe my year, but it resonates in my thoughts and soul.

According to Merriam Webster, it's "Middle English, from Anglo-French, from Late Latin miraculum, from Latin, a wonder, marvel, from mirari to wonder at."

These two guys teach me a lot about wonder. Noah likes to ask, “Why, Aunt Susan…?” Yes indeed. Why?

My dad is a marvel, a trouper. We thought we would lose him four years ago when the doctors couldn’t come to a diagnosis. They stumbled upon dialysis, and between that and seventeen (or so) medications, he is still with us. Earlier this year, he lost his “pep”, but again rallied and rehabilitated. I am grateful that my husband and I could celebrate Christmas with him and my mom.

I wonder at the way that God set me, the solitary one, in a family. He gave me, the barren woman, children. It’s been twelve years and I experience no less wonder than the beginning – actually, it is more “wonder-full” as years pass.

God provided a husband who loves Him and me, in that order. As a bonus, he makes me laugh. This picture is from his 60^th birthday dinner, and it’s how I’d like people to remember us.

It wasn’t an easy year. That makes this life even more miraculous. A good friend, a solid Christian man, committed suicide. Another good friend nearly died but has been restored to us. A family rift leaves me broken – but doesn’t God love to work in the broken places?

Psalm 103:1-2 is our family prayer and because of that, Matt Redman’s song 10,000 Reasons pierces my soul.

I've got a BOLO for 2013 because God paved the way in 2012.

Be on the lookout - for miracles.

christmas.day (-6)

They came with a warning not to eat them.

Living in my cubicle-world, I do what I can to acknowledge the season - in this case, window clings. It would help to view a snow-covered field outside, but this is the new Michigan winter.

It hasn't "felt" much like Christmas yet. Maybe it's because I still hope for a white Christmas (though I think Draco is going to pass us by). Or because I feel the grief of my friend who prays and waits for a sign that her son will journey safely through PTSD. And then there is the horror and sadness of Sandy Hook.

And yet.

It is Christmas. The words of Welcome to Our World by Chris Rice speak to me perfectly:

Tears are falling, hearts are breaking

How we need to hear from God

You've been promised, we've been waiting

Welcome Holy Child

Welcome Holy Child

Maranatha. Come, Lord Jesus.

I am thankful for Your gift.

the.conductor

With trumpets and the sound of the horn make a joyful noise before the King, the Lord! Psalm 98:6

I stood, awash in the glorious sound (trumpets, tubas, and every horn in between). I found myself crying at the sheer beauty of music never to be repeated in exactly the same way. Its message spoke to my heart of Epic God who came to us as Emmanuel.

The arranger and conductor - a high school student - directed the ensemble with confidence and skill. I watched his masterful leadership and the musicians' response - whether decrescendo to pianissimo, or a crescendo to double fortissimo. The conductor pointed, beckoned, kept time - continuously communicating so that each musician knew when it was time to play or to rest...

What if we, the body of Christ, responded to God with such unity and purpose? Would it not be as magnificent as what I witnessed this morning?

Let us make a joyful noise before the King, the Lord!

prince.of.peace

Come to us, Prince of Peace.

Shine light into our darkness.

Heal our broken hearts.

We do not understand when innocents are slain and innocence is stolen.

Evil stares us in the face and dares us to believe that God is always good and Emmanuel is always with us.

Come to us, Prince of Peace.

Yesterday, a school shooting left 20 schoolchildren and six adults dead. The media assault is continuous and attempts to explain the unexplainable. Why? we ask. Our questions expose our greatest fear, that we are not in control of our lives. The truth is, we are not. 

We can live only in the confidence that Emmanuel is with us, and when our time comes to die, He is with us. Even if our death comes in something as horrific as a school shooting. God.with.us.

sometimes

Sometimes you can travel the path to the Stinky Farm again and again and never see.

Sometimes you can walk right through your life not noticing what's around you.

I don't know how many times I've run down the country road to the Stinky Farm at lunch, 1.5 miles there, 1.5 miles back.

I've run through hot summer, brilliant fall and now, cold December. And I never saw it.

The swing. Still hanging from sturdy oak branches, strangely out of season.

To get the best angle, I had to climb down into the deep ditch and up the steep bank, and navigate over downed branches.

(This happens to me. Instead of running the whole time, I stop when I see something interesting. A cat. A leaf. Roosters.)

It made me happy, though. Unreasonably happy. I felt like I discovered something. It made me think of play and rest. It was a small adventure, unexpected in the middle of the workday.

Sometimes God hands me the joys to count.

fight.for.joy

It chokes me up, this gift I received tonight - a book titled Change the Way You See Everything.

It's been a hard week because I handed over the keys to my emotional bank account - opened my self-esteem door wide to a person who has no right to enter. I handed them over without a fight.

I want to be less permeable, to put up a bully-proof glass shield. I want to be able to read his words and not internalize them into failure, disappointment, fear.

But how?

The tears come from longing, from hope.

Change the way you see. (Can I?)

Change the way you see everything. (How?)

This joy-thing is not easy by any means. Oh, there were plenty who prayed and prophesied joy over me back in the days when divorce and despair sucked the light, and nearly my life, right out of me. I don't want to go there again.

God healed. The light flickered and grew stronger and yes, restored my joy.

I am determined to seek joy and the enemy of my soul is equally determined to steal, kill and destroy.

The only way to change the way I see is to change my mind. And the only way to change my mind is to soak in the truth of God's word.

I.will.fight.for.joy.

thanks-full

It's Thankful Tuesday, so here goes.

Today I'm thankful that God makes all things possible. And that someone was talented enough to write a song about it.

All Things Possible

I'm thankful for a four-mile run on dry pavement after this morning's snow, and for the cold weather running gear that my husband bought me.

I'm thankful for my accounting students, especially the one who hasn't said two words to me all semester. Tonight he bubbled with joy as he told me about his decision to change his major from business (boring) to nutrition (passion). "Way to go!" I said.

Above all, I am thankful that God saved me, and kept me from committing suicide. He has brought such joy and life to me that people find it hard to believe I experienced depression.

Give thanks to the Lord for He is good, His love endures forever.

unexpected.gifts.

As I typed the title, it seemed to me that in a way, all gifts are unexpected. I try not to expect gifts, nor do I want to feel entitled to them... though a birthday without gifts has never, ever occurred in my life.

Tuesday's gifts?

My normally self-absorbed co-worker told me that she's baking Christmas cookies this weekend and to expect a plate of them (and to run a few extra miles in preparation!)

That won't be a problem as long as this continues:

The second gift - running in shorts and T-shirt in 56-degree weather. So, you say? This is December.in.Michigan. Any run without three shirts and two pairs of pants is a gift!

The third gift came from some of my accounting students.

I'm not "that" teacher, the popular one. So it was surprising and delightful to get a whole box, not just a sample.

During this season of Advent, I'm looking for this type of gift - the small, the unexpected - as well as reminding myself of the priceless gift, the reason for it all - Jesus Christ.

filled.with.joy

Source: flickr.com via Susan on Pinterest

Why is it so easy to believe that it's done when I pray for others, that I have what I ask?

Today we celebrated Joel's 55th birthday and his homecoming from the rehabilitation hospital. He almost died last month. A fall from a ladder, a fractured femur, a good-bye to his wife as he headed into surgery. The orthopedic surgery was replaced by a desperate nine-hours removing blood clots from his heart and lungs. The situation was so rare and grave that it required phone consults with a major teaching hospital two hours away.

It was easy to pray and believe that God would intervene for him.

Today is the second anniversary of terrible horrors that my friend's son witnessed in Afghanistan. Again, I find myself praying for a life. His psychological wounds go deep. The sense of betrayal (where was God?) has him turned spiritually upside-down. This is the boy who prayed for me when he was small, when my desire for life disappeared during divorce. When I was spiritually and psychologically upside-down, I truly believe that this child's prayers turned the tide.

It is easy to pray and believe that God will intervene for him.

Why is it easy to have such faith for these situations? Why not the other circumstances I face? I asked my husband. The difference seems to be that I have faith for God's work in others' lives, but not my own.

All I know is this: the Word was alive to me again today.

The LORD has done great things for us, and we are filled with joy. ~Psalm 126:3