Blog Archives

Snow - "God's invitation to pause."

2/16/2016

Snow is falling on Hickory Lane.
Even inside I can hear the quiet it brings,
muffling every sound,
smoothing off the sharp edges of daily life,
bring tranquility to the scenes outside my window.

But inside my head, the racket continues. My ears (still) ring, and my mind is noisy and chaotic like a radio turned too loud with fuzzy reception and random station changes.

Somehow the snow helps me to slow down a bit. My friend MaryJean describes snow as "God's invitation to pause." I think she's right, and I want to accept the invitation. I light a candle and watch through the window as ice crystals dance to earth across red shed and weathered gray barn board backdrop.

I struggle to bring order to the scattered fragments of worry I've managed to pick up this day before I remembered to pause. (I feels like I'm herding cats.) Some bits I must simply release; they are soul lint and gravel that I have somehow added to my bag for the day because I hit "start" before I chose pause:

-the state budget (or lack thereof.)
-the unavailability of a jacket I thought I needed...now where will I find one before our trip?
-another presidential debate. (could somebody please at least act presidential?)
-the projected weather and how my projected plans will be affected. (School isn't the only thing that gets cancelled when the weather turns south. Errr, I mean north. Brrr.)
-rude words I recently heard directed at me seem to stick like lint...

Let it go, B, let it all go. Turn every bit loose to blow with the snow flakes.

Other floating anxieties, worries, fears are harder to toss. They are deeper, closer to my heart. I move them to a list for praying, my "holding up list."

-friends dealing with the big C's, cancer and chemo.
-relationship tangles near and far.
-my friend with a houseful of orphans and no water
-a short list of mourners who have lost their mothers recently. I.know.how.hard.that.is.
-a friend's struggle with drama, how she hates it yet creates it.
-on and on.
Half the stuff I can't list because...the stories aren't mine, yet somehow I pick up these heavy bits and haul them around with me day after day.

It takes awhile, sitting in deep silence, unpacking a lot of...stuff, but I gradually feel the peace of Jesus encroaching on each spot vacated by the piecemeal release of my collection into His care. I'm letting go. (Again.)

It's not that I don't care; it's that I am choosing not to carry. I'm putting these anxieties in better hands, off loading on One who has offered to carry all of it.

I sense a change as the volume of my inner radio is dialed back, notch by notch, and I breathe in the quiet.

This. How I've missed this quiet on the inside.

I've been too goal oriented lately; I've been doing too much multi-tasking; I've been moving too many directions too soon most mornings. Like a loose throttle on a lawn mower, my life speed has been inching up, faster, faster, faster.

The noise of life lived too fast has been overshadowing the whisper I want to hear more than any other.

Even though I read these words every single day (or, at least I see them....) I've lost track of their truth.

But not this day.

Today the quietness of snowfall murmurs a reminder-
to pause,
to listen to the silence,
to listen in the silence for the whisper of God.

Hummin'B

0 Comments

"Sometimes a light surprises..."

2/9/2016

0 Comments

“It has been the hardest, darkest season of my life...”

These hard words from a dear friend have been murmuring and mumbling in a corner of my heart over the past weeks as I’ve held her up in my prayers. I have been doing some muttering too, asking God what He was thinking to allow her to walk through such a difficult stretch of the journey. I’ve been scrambling, wondering how to care, how to pray, how to walk with her on a path of serious anxiety/depression that seems wide enough for only one?

About the same time, I stumbled across an old poem/hymn with this title: Sometimes a Light Surprises.

Sometimes a light surprises the Christian while (she) sings; (or hums??)
It is the Lord who rises with healing in His wings;
When comforts are declining, He grants the soul again
A season of clear shining to cheer it after rain.

The significance of the song has deepened in me as I learned the story of its author, English poet, William Cowper, who struggled with mental distress off and on throughout his entire life. According to my source, Kenneth Osgood’s Amazing Grace, 366 Inspiring Hymn Stories, Cowper had a conversion experience at age 33 after reading the Bible during a long stay in an asylum. He wrote prolifically in the years to come, but he never was completely free from the struggles of his mind and was periodically haunted by deep depressions, voices and visions. Nevertheless, he wrote prolifically and profoundly about the truths of the Christian life, come what may.

Some of his secular works achieved literary fame, but when he combined his talents with his close friend John Newton, the result was the famous hymnal, Olney Hymns. The sixty seven poems he contributed to that work included well known favorites such as O for a Closer Walk with God and God Moves in a Mysterious Way.

But Sometimes a Light Surprises is the poem that has captured my thoughts in recent days. The title alone stirs up questions and retorts, as I ponder the hard, dark seasons of life.

Sometimes a light surprises….but sometimes it doesn’t.

Sometimes a light surprises…do you have to be watching for it...but then, it wouldn't be a surprise, right?

Sometimes a light surprises…but what about all the times when you just keep walking forward in the dark?

Sometimes a light surprises…do you have to be “singing” to trigger the surprise?

The thought that "sometimes a light surprises" raised as many questions as it answered. As much as I loved the title, I had my doubts.

And then I experienced a surprising light.

It was (another bleak winter day, and it was) time for a walk...and past time; it’s been hard to will myself out the door lately. (So, for those of you who think I faithfully do this every day, no. It’s hit or miss, and it’s usually a struggle.)

I don’t mind walking on cold, clear blue sky days…but one bleak grey day after another? No thanks.

It.was.a.struggle.
The kitchen was so warm...and cheerful.

I contemplated not even taking my camera; the day was colorless; dreary clouds smothered the valley.

I trudged down the road, thinking my own thoughts and wondering why I had waited until so late in the afternoon. It was Hickory Lane rush hour. (13 vehicles instead of the usual 3!?) I nodded and waved at vans, a few carriages, trucks…lots of local traffic, hardworking folks heading home from their jobs. I paused to take some sky pictures, noting that a few glimpses of late sun were reflecting off the cloud cover and coloring the mountain. I am often amazed at my view of the sky. Tucked away in my little valley within Big Valley, I feel blessed to have a big sky view. (Even gray skies can be vast and stunning...)

I reached my turnaround point at the bridge, and headed home.

I wasn’t singing, but I might have been humming, and I was definitely about to be surprised by light.

I looked up.

The sky in the EAST was a pastel wondercolor of pinks,
and where had all that blueness come from?

And then I turned around.
Oh my.
The sky was on fire.

I realized getting home was going to take a while,
walking backwards.

I didn’t see it coming.
I hadn’t earned it
or asked for it
or even been looking for it.

In fact, I almost missed it, walking fast east when the show was in the west.

So much radiance.
Even on those sitting (or lying?) in the shadow of death were privy to the glory.
(And that’s when I decided I want to be buried in this cemetery, facing west…but that’s a different post.)

I was more than a little glad that I had bothered to drag my camera out into the gray day.
Even winter dead trees looked different in this light…
everything was transformed.

Who knew that this much splendor was coming?

When I walked in the back door, I was humming my version of Sometimes a light surprises,
and thinking of my friend.

This has become my prayer for her:

…that light would sometimes surprise her in this dark season, that even in dark spots, a blaze of glory will shine forth.

...that she will realize she didn’t have to ask for it or do anything to make it happen.
...that she will see it – that when it’s coming she will be facing west, eyes wide open in surprise and wonder and maybe, just for a moment, joy.
...that she will experience a season, or at least some moments, of clear shining.

And that I will remember this truth during my own dark moments, dark seasons:

-sometimes a light surprises...

Yes!
(and thank You.)

0 Comments

Snow - "God's invitation to pause."

"Sometimes a light surprises..."

Author

Stay Connected!

Categories

Archives