Category Archives: Inspirational

The Incredible Patience of God

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I have learned lessons we experience in life are not purely for our own benefit, but for sharing with others who struggle and need encouragement, support, and wisdom by others who have ‘been there-done that’.

It could be I am not necessarily slow, but rather I am ready to hear what I need to hear when I am ready to hear it.  I am not defiant, not rebellious, but some of us can only learn when we are ready to learn it.  Otherwise, it goes into mind storage in the brain, way in the back with all other stuff labeled, “Keep and go through later.”

How am I intimately familiar with the patience of God ?

I am still here.
I am still breathing.
I am still here.

Days come and go.  I listen.  I hear a voice and respond.  I find I listen to the wrong voice.  Again.  And again.  The incredible patience of God once again, prevails.

All my mistakes.  Poor choices.  Knowing right and doing wrong.

The patience of God shines upon me as tears stream down my face while a repentant heart cries out for mercy and grace, yet again.

Calmly enduring pain and trying situations.  Even-tempered perseverance.  These are the words chosen to insert onto the pages of dictionaries to define a holy word.  A holy act.

Patience.  The incredible – the indescribable patience of God.

Via Old French from Latin: patientia – meaning ‘endurance’ and pati, meaning ‘to suffer’.

A chill encircles me as I give this some thought.

He endures my poor choices so I may learn to make better ones.  He endures with me while making well-known His even-tempered perseverance.  For my benefit.  For my   learning of lessons taught.  He suffers beside me through the error of my selfish ways, through my mistakes so I am able to crawl out of the muck once again.  And again.

Oh how patient, how long-suffering is the Lord my God.  Over me.  Again.  And again.

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is [His] faithfulness.  Lamentations 3:22-23

From my heart -

Sherri

Being Still and Knowing Who God Is

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It is quiet behind our house this time of year.  Many aren’t using the pathway that stretches from one town to another.  It is cold outside and it pierces your flesh, leaving you shivering as you stand and wait.  In the silence I can hear my teeth chatter

So what compels me to stand out in the cold wet of winter?

Nothing.

And everything.

I walk the icy pathway.  Barren trees lift their branches high up into the blue of sky above.  This is Christmas morning.

The white bark of the birch tree that stands tall and erect beside me almost glows as the sun radiates its light on trunk and limbs. And I see utmost beauty.  I stand speechless.  It is a beautiful Christmas morning sight.

I have learned many lessons this past month within the silence of the keyboard.  The rattling of keys has been minimal.  Social conversations via internet sites have not been.  The telephone has been in the hands of another and so one on one conversations via satellites and modern technology of a cell phone have been almost nil.

Through the silence, through barrenness of winter – this dark season of life – God has spoken.  A mere whisper perhaps, but He has been there.

One Who lately seemed so terribly far away, still walks beside me.

In silence.

And it is in silence He is teaching…

The faster I walk, the less I see, the less I hear.

The faster I live, the more I am life-less.

I miss the surprises.

I miss the beauty.

I miss the Creator.

I stand on the path and a man on a bike stops.  He asks what I am taking pictures of.  I tell him salmon in the creek.  A woman stops, repeating the same question.  I tell her Downy Woodpeckers.  They both look – one up into blue and one down, into murky waters.  They smile politely and continue on their way.  They can’t see.  They are hurried into experiencing life and in their hurry, they miss it.

I listen to the sounds of birds who are wintering over and have found sustenance at my bird feeders. Filled with black sunflowers, thistle seeds and suet, they sing with thanksgiving before they  dive down for another bite.

This – all of this – a wonderful gift God has given.  Shamefully, I have often walked dark winter’s path and have not looked up into barren branches as those who often pass me by.  To my regret, I have missed the surprises that are hidden for those who have learned to be still.  For those who have learned who God is.

Merciful Father.  Pouring undeserved kindness and compassion upon the head of one undeserving.

Me.

I stand in the cold, warmed by knowing He is gently leading me back.  Back to a fullness in Him. A fullness that once discovered, once experienced – no other can fill.

I stand there, taking in a deep breath of icy air surrounding my face.  As my lungs fill with a cleansing cold, I see it and it sees me.  There, in high limbs a hawk is perched, watching, observing, following me where I move.

I lift the camera and point in his direction and shoot.  He is annoyed and removes his talons from tightly held limbs and takes off into flight. As I stand in stillness, I watch with held breath.  I want to remember this moment forever.

I want to remember this lesson He teaches me.  How His wings protect and shelter us underneath.  I want to remember in stillness there is sight.  I want to remember the undeserved mercy lavished upon me day after day after day.  The unconditional love, forgiveness of sins, and pounding of nails into human flesh against a splintery tree that once stood atop a hill. Nails meant for me, driven into the hand of Another.

I want to remember to live.  Unhurried.  Full of life.  Full of thankfulness.  Full of gratitude and be a grace extender.  I want to live in stillness, knowing deep in my being just who God is in my life.

Hope-maker.  Fear-taker.  Peace-giver. Grace-coverer.  Stillness-trainer.  Life-sustainer.  Soul-redeemer.  Silence-creator. Day after day after day.

From my heart  ~Sherri

Trusting the Great I AM

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“The Israelites groaned in their slavery and cried out, and their cry for help because of their slavery went up to God. …So God looked on the Israelites and was concerned about them.”

Meanwhile…

“When the Lord saw that Moses had gone over to the burning bush, God called to him from within the bush, ‘Moses! Moses!. …Moses hid his face, because he was afraid to look at God. The Lord said, ‘I have seen the misery of my people… and I am concerned about their suffering. …I am sending you to Pharaoh to bring my people the Israelites out of Egypt.

“But Moses said to God, ‘Who am I, that I should go to Pharaoh…

“Suppose I go and say to them,’The God of your fathers has sent me to you’ and they ask me, ‘What is his name?’ Then what shall I tell them?

“God said… ‘I AM WHO I AM. This is what you are to say…

“The elders of Israel will listen to you. …But I know that the king of Egypt will not let you go unless a mighty hand compels him. So I will… strike the Egyptians with all the wonders that I will perform among them. After that, he will let you go.’

“Moses answered, ‘What if they do not believe me? …Lord, I have never been eloquent… I am slow of speech and tongue.’

“‘…go; I will help you and teach you what to say.’

“‘But Moses said, “O Lord, please send someone else to do it.’

“Then the Lord’s anger burned against Moses and he said, ‘What about Aaron…your brother? I know he can speak well. …He will speak to the Lord for you.

“…When you return to Egypt… say to Pharaoh, ‘This is that the Lord says: Israel is my firstborn son, and I told you, ‘Let my son go, so he may worship me.’”

And so…

“…when [the Israelites] heard that the Lord was concerned about them… they bowed down and worshiped.” ***

So many people – so often – say God doesn’t care. As I was reading through these chapters this morning, God’s concern for us is painted all over the pages. In chapter two, he hears the Israelites cry for freedom.

He hears their cry for release of the oppression put upon them from the Egyptians.

He hears their cry to be free from bondage.

And, He’s concerned.

So – He develops a plan.

Moses, once a prince in a palace, through various and assorted circumstances, becomes a sheep herder in the dry, hot desert. While wandering with these wooly rams and ewes, he comes upon a bush that is on fire. He watches. And he watches. And it doesn’t burn up.

“Dude, this is totally illogical,” he cries out. “Simply illogical.” After all, how often do you see bushes that are burning in the desert and refuse to burn out? It’s not like there’s an overabundance of bushes in the desert to begin with and this specific one drew him nearer.

As Moses approaches, God calls to him. “Moses! Moses!” And Moses says, “Here I am.”

Then God stops him. “Don’t come any closer. Take off your sandals, for the place you are standing is holy ground.” At that moment, Moses hides his face, because he is afraid to look at God.

Then the conversation begins. God has an agenda. He has allowed Moses to live the first forty years as a prince of Pharaoh’s palace; the next forty as a shepherd in the desert; and now, God has called him to be the deliverer, the savior – so to speak – of the Israelites. And what is Moses’ response? I’m a nobody. What if they don’t believe me? Can’t you send someone else to do it?

Uh, no Moses. This is the plan – God is sending you.

Moses finally got his way, but not before ‘…the Lord’s anger burned against Moses.’

Can you imagine going from hearing the voice of God, standing before God and then – experiencing His anger? Like Moses, we so often oppose God’s plan – His will – with our ‘what if(s)’, ‘but(s)’, and our ‘are you sure(s)’, that we end up disobeying, ignoring, and distrusting Him.

If we truly believe that God is who He says he is, “I AM WHO I AM”, that should leave us desiring to obey and be submissive to His will. Seeking to trust Him completely. Seeking to be attentive to what He is saying to us. His “I AM WHO I AM” should be so important to us that we remember Him from generation to generation, as He requested, as “I AM”.

However, we get lax in our relationship with Him and forget just how who He is. Moses was afraid to look at Him. Moses felt inadequate before God, not thinking perhaps that if God called him to a task, surely God would equip him. Even having taken off his shoes after being told he stood on holy ground, Moses couldn’t wrap his mind around the truth that the One he was conversing with was the great “I AM”. The One who hung the stars in the heavens. The One who created every drop of water, every grain of sand. And because of his inability to trust God, God’s anger burned.

Yet – God still used him. He had to have a sidekick – his brother – but God still used him and continued to use him.

Moses went to the elders (as God had commanded), told them what was going to happen and they bowed down and worshiped the Lord. The great “I AM” had seen their misery and heard their cries because of their slavery and now they worshiped the God of their fathers and they had hope restored. A hope of being delivered from the Egyptians.

Did God care? Of course He did. Does He care now, when we are a people so selfish and sinful? Of course He does. He hears our cries – when we voice them. He is concerned when we are oppressed. And – He desires our worship. Most of all – He desires our worship.

So often we rely on signs to tell us of God’s power and God’s worth instead of relying on the fact that He is sovereign and can be trusted. Instead, shouldn’t our response then be – to worship the great “I AM” and to bow low before Him? Surely, it should be.

From my heart,
Sherri

***New International Bible, excerpts taken from the book of Exodus, chapters 2-3.

The Beautiful Struggle

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The season we call Autumn has got to be one of the most beautiful of all four seasons. Foliage dies to the coming of winter, only to produce an array of colors that can leave you speechless. There is irreproducible beauty in the fall of an autumn leaf. Leaves colored in hues of golds and reds, oranges and browns, silently letting go of the branch they spent the summer holding onto and slowly floating to the earth.

I took a walk today to capture some fall color and any bird that beckoned to me photograph it. In my walking, I noticed splashing in the creek below me. I thought it was a duck, but as I kept looking, I could not see anything. I waited.

It happened again and I realized it was a fish. A very large fish. I could see his tail and fins sticking out above the water as he wriggled his way back up river. The closer I looked, I wondered… Could it be? And just then a young man rode by me on his bike and asked if I was taking pictures of salmon.

Um, yes. That’s what I’m doing. I didn’t even know there was salmon in that creek.

I looked closer. As the fish wiggled and wriggled more, I saw his snout with the upturned mouth. Yes, there are salmon in that creek.

I stood almost an hour watching two fish swim upstream and then let the flow of the creek take them back downstream, only to repeat the process over and again. It was amazing – their commitment to get to wherever they were headed so they could lay their eggs.

Sometimes I have places in my life I’d rather be than where I am. I want to always be in the place where I am totally devoted to the Lord. I want to be in the place where He is my beginning and end, the first and the last. However, it can be and has been and at times I know will continue to be – a struggle. I fight my way upstream, sometimes making headway, only (it seems) to be carried back in a mere, unexpected instant by the currents of this life. Carried back downstream to where my shoes sit waiting for my feet. I find it happens because I either rushed ahead of God’s timing, I wanted things my way, I thought God’s way was my way, or I plainly just lost my way.

I can be determined in all of these situations. I can persevere. I can remain committed, only to realize I got it wrong. Somewhere along the way I lost the mark swimming upstream and fought a good fight, but I swam up the wrong creek. Somewhere along the way I made the decision to take the left fork of the creek, only to find it led to stagnant water. How I longed for the true path that led to the fresh water, the running water.

Easier is not necessarily best. Upstream – in the struggle – that is where the true lessons are most likely to be found. Wisdom is found in the experience of the struggle. Determination, perseverance, commitment – they will keep you moving no matter how difficult the struggle. Focusing on the mark God has set before you and ignoring the deceiving forks in the creek will keep you on the true path where the fresh water – the Living Water – can be found.

From my heart,
Sherri

What God Sees

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We were walking up the pathway, Boo and I. Almost to the stairs. Boo suddenly needs to go back. I didn’t know why. Then she enlightened me.

There are weeds I need to pull. I walk over the clover and miss the miracle. Boo is adament about taking a few steps back. Huddled in-between the multiple leaves of rusty-red clover is a delicate, bright yellow flower, smaller than Boo’s little pinky finger. It has five petals. As Boo bends to pick it, she is having a hard time pulling it apart from the plant and as she does, she pulls a petal off. Saddened and not seeing any other little blooms, she continues up the pathway and into the house.

What I saw was a picture of God’s love. Sometimes all we can see in ourselves amounts to a basket filled with weeds. We feel we aren’t appealing, captivating, beautiful to anyone. Then, every once a while, someone sees something special. They see past the weeds. They see value. They see potential. They see the heart. Amidst the weeds. The garbage. The sin.

All I saw was a bunch of weeds that need to be pulled. All Boo saw was the tiny flower tucked in the center. All God sees is what’s in the heart.

“…the Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.” 1 Samuel 16:7

May you find a miracle today.

From my heart,
Sherri

In God We Trust-ed

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I have a friend that gave to me a new state quarter every time they were released. She also made me the recipient of a brand new shiny gold Washington dollar the year those were released by the U.S. Mint. It is a beautiful coin. Exquisite, really, if you collect coins. It’s quite similar to the Susan B. Anthony dollar.

The day I received those two coins – the newest state quarter and the Washington dollar, we were sitting in North Idaho, eating lunch. It was a beautiful day, full of sunshine and not a cloud in the sky as we sat by the lake right across from her work.

There were three of us there that day and she gave coins to the two of us who had met her for lunch. I looked at the coins in my hand. I was more drawn to the gold than the silver and noticed George on the face of the coin.

“Did you notice he isn’t smiling on the dollar coin?” I asked my two friends.

No, they hadn’t noticed.

They took another bite of lunch while I kept looking at George. Then I looked at George on the quarter. “He’s smiling on the quarter,” I said, bringing my ongoing investigation up to date. “It’s somewhat more of a mischievous smile, but it’s there.”

They hadn’t noticed that, either. I looked back at the gold coin.

“Did you notice they got rid of “In God We Trust” on the face of the coin?”, I asked.

One replied yes. The other, no.

“Get this,” said the friend who gave me the coin, “they’ve put it on the side.”

“That’s stupid,” I commented. “It’ll get rubbed off.”

I thought, ‘Just like we are rubbing God right out of our country.’

We take a little bit of Him out of this and we take a little bit of Him out of that and before we know it, He’ll be completely gone and when we are at the end of our ropes, we’ll cry out to Him – but why should He answer? We didn’t need Him then. We made that more than clear. Why then, should He want us now?

Some days we wake up and feel empty and alone and wonder why. The answer may be simple, really…

One day we chose to rub out our prayers before meals. Embarrassing when we go out to eat. Can’t have that. What will people think? And the next week we rubbed our quiet time out of our mornings. Gotta make this meeting, gotta make that luncheon, gotta do this, gotta do that. And it’s becoming quite easy to justify rubbing church off the calendar because of the songs they’re singing or the pastor’s preaching much too long, or no one says hi or… . Before we know it – we’ll have rubbed God completley out of our lives.

“In God We Trust.”

It’ll get rubbed right off of the sides of those dollars. Just wait and see.

A little here, a little there. To want Him off the coin, He had to have been void in our lives. Before we know it, we’ll have rubbed Him out of everything.

From my heart,

Season of Thanks

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I give thanks, look up into the sky and can’t help but wonder – why would a God so mighty, so pure, so holy – love me?

Me – full of small doubts and large fears, endless mistakes. Yet – You love me still.

I give thanks for love when I’m full of doubts and I’m full of fears and I’ve made endless mistakes and it’s difficult seeing past my limited focus. I give thanks when the storms rage. Growing in grace comes in every season. Winter must come before spring. My life needs the rain as well as the sunshine.

Through heartache and tears, the soil becomes fertile for growth. During the growth process, I find refuge in His care.

Safety in His arms.

Peace resting in Him.

There, under His care and protection, I wait for dark, hovering clouds that boldly threaten storms, flooding, devastation – there I wait with Him.

It is in the sitting at His feet, in the waiting and trusting that my tears are wiped by the palm of His hands. It is in the trust that causes me to be still. It is in the still, quiet wait that teaches me calm.

He says Go, it is safe and I will be with you. And so I go.

Hesitantly, I take a step and as I do, spring awaits. Earth the once stood bare, without life, now stands in royal grandeur, it barrenness turned to beauty.

Where dark once reigned, warmth now resides. Tiny hopes for life, once called buds, are now beautiful blooms with a sweet fragrance that drifts through the garden. Blossoms of bright hues are scattered by Your hand.

Every bird beckons me with its song of magnificence. Each buzzing bee joins in at His orchestrated command.

Tree branches lift their foliage in praise. New life sprouts for all to see. New life fills every nest and together, creation shouts praise to its Creator.

Once I have walked the road of a new spring, it is only a matter of time before the cycle is evident to all and a new season is upon me. Vibrant, healthy life, with the rains of the spring and the warmth of summer, will begin to die again. The cycle now resumes.

Seasons must change, winds must blow, storms must rage. It begins when leaves fall, giving way to the coming winter. Yet it is in their silent death, a beauty I see. Their vibrant colors sing out praise to their Creator. It is in the crunching and smashing, the scrunching and mashing of fallen leaves that once brought shelter from the scorching sun that now bring delight to Your children.


As they are pushed away from their branches above, they clear space for the new life that will follow in step. History will repeat itself once again with the cycle of life. Change comes, though no human eye can see. It is before the silent, unseen miracle I worship You.

You have taken this life, like branches once bare, and breathed the breath of new life into the old and barren. Embraced with grace, chains fell away like dead, dry leaves on a blustery day. Storms of darkness blew with the pelting rains of winter and You held me close. I feared no evil. No storm took me captive. I did not drown.

Again You took me to Spring and have gave to me fragrance as perfume. The stinging, pelting rains of winter did not keep me from You, but drew me close, caused me to wait, to trust, to grow, to bloom.

I have learned from You in hard times. I have found shelter in Your care. I can walk in the darkness, for I have found your comfort and safety in that place.

My God, I give thanks to You now, when thanksgiving comes with ease. When the skies are clear and the sun bathes me in its warmth, I praise You. I give You thanks then, in the season where life gives way to change, and light turns to darkness, having learned that in the cold, in the pain of life, You have held me close. Close is where I want to stay.

This season of celebrated Thanksgiving, I thank You as others do – for joy, being a part of the living, obvious blessings of this holiday. Food, fellowship, memories and more.

Most – I thank You for taking me – soiled, shattered, broken and bruised – me, who only someone You could make new. Once lifeless, in pain, lost, and alone – I praise You, my almighty, all-powerful, omnipotent God, and give you heartfelt thanks. For all you’ve done, for the gift of hope, for restoration, for making me whole again. It is my whole heart that You alone have won.

The flowers of spring that bloom with beauty. The autumn winds, the falling of leaves. The cold chill and storms of winter. The wonder and new life of spring. There is a purpose for everything, for everything a divine and greater reason.

I give thanks now. I will give thanks again. For You have remained so faithful to me. Over and over. Again and again.

From my heart,

When My Mind Says Go and My Muscles Say No… I Worship.

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Several years ago there was a popular craze among Christians… the 40 Days of Purpose craze. This popular craze ran its course, like so many other Christian crazes tend to do until another idea is targeted to promote Christ-likeness.

The one thing that impacted me more than anything was really allowing to sink down deep the truth that my greatest purpose in life is to worship God. I have to admit that since I have let that truth sink deep, I have struggled with what that actually looks like 24/7.

Until one day.

Having Parkinson’s at the age of 46 can sometimes leave me feeling extremely purposeless at times. Feeling as if I don’t have much to contribute any more. When I am in a good frame of mind, I know that there is much I can contribute to life, but my mind isn’t always in such good a frame and I struggle with how one worships when they feel lost, discouraged, frustrated, displaced and even… alone.

Last week I was physically struggling with the regular, mundane chores of life. You know, the doing-dishes-folding clothes-sweeping chores and on and on the list meanders silently down the page, waiting patiently to be crossed off once again. This is the kind of physical struggle that no matter what you say silently or aloud to your ten fingers, they won’t obey. I say, “Type faster,” and, they don’t. Do they hear me? Yes. Do they obey? No. “Scratch my back,” I say and they can’t. “Tie my shoes,” I plead.

Nope.

Ain’t gonna happen.

Today we’re wearing slip-ons.

Sometimes I’m finding I have to ask family members to tie bows and knots in my shoes, zip zippers, button buttons, put on or take off a coat. Those are met during my off times. Times when my mind says go and my muscles say no.

Off times can have a tendency to make me feel lonely and discouraged, as if I actually have lost my purpose in life. Life as I once knew it, isn’t quite the same any more.

Somewhere in the change,

during the change,

because of the change,

I feel my purpose changed as well.

If it is true that I was made to worship God, my first realization – it’s a 24/7 activity. God doesn’t shut off now and then, but exists and is available at all times. At work, at school, at home, in the sunshine, in the storms, in the garden, at the dump. Worshipping God 24/7 and what that looks like for me became my quest. I wanted to know intimately this purpose for my life – that of worshiping a holy God. Every other purpose that once seemed real or important has, one by one, slowly faded to a lesser priority or disappeared altogether.

I began with the fact that

I am a mother.

Mothering duties seem to lessen as I scan an empty nest, its gaping empty spaces filled occasionally – only temporarily. Feathered friends flitter about, with no playmates to be found. I am a mother of three whose primary purpose for 32 years seemed to be that of training up my children in the best way I knew how to point them – direct them – in the path they were bent towards. Now, I am left sitting on a sharp twig in a pokey nest where there are weightless feathers tucked amongst the twigs where my three little chicks once squawked for dinner. I have asked myself, “How do I worship at a time like this, as I sit here watching my children fly away, needing me no more?”

I am a wife.

I know as well as my husband does that I all too often fail in that primary, earthly role, easily distracted with lesser things in life, indirectly and unintentionally putting him second. The role of wife is an extremely important role – jammed full of purpose – and yet somehow, I all too often convince myself that I have fallen short. And so, as a wife, I find myself asking, “How do I worship when I feel I fail so often at who I perceive I am to be as a his wife?”

I am a daughter.

Instead of me being able to run to and fro – doing things for my parents, doing things for his parents – time and distance play much too large a factor in journeying away from home so easily. I learn that our parents are trying to figure out how they might be able to help take care of me in the years to come because of my physical changes. Instead of me thinking about the opportunities to care of them, they think of ways to care for me. This daughter asks, “How do you worship when you feel like you may not be able to do that which you actually looked forward to – giving back a little of what was given to you?”

I am a friend.

In the roles of friendship, I find myself forgetting the things I long to remember. Birthdays. Anniversaries. Prayer requests. Names. My head is filled with too much and remembers too little. I ask, “How do I worship when friends feel I don’t care because I forgot to return a phone call or send an overdue letter or reply in some fashion or form? When they think something’s wrong because the muscles in my face have ceased to obey my brain when it says to smile and a frown is what they witness plastered there instead?”

Fairly good questions. In the asking, however, I notice there is much feeling occurring. In that realization, God shows me the need to live by truth and not feelings that so easily deceive.

Truth One.

I am good a mother. Never perfect, but fairly decent.

My little chickadees may be flying away but every once in a while they turn around and say, “Remember when you taught my how to do this?” then they take a fancy dive, pulling up out of a crash landing just in time and…

it’s beautiful.

Every once in a while, they fly back and sit a while with me in a familiar nest and I like that. It makes the next departure a bit easier. It makes the gap that is left not so gaping.

Then there’s

Truth One, Part Two.

I will never sit on that branch alone. I will never be in that nest alone.

It might seem high from ground view. My wings may be tired and the wind may blow. I may, at times, feel I am being blown away, but there is One who covers me with his wing and it is there under His protection I will hide and find shelter.

Truth Two.

I am a good wife. I could do better. I could do as my husband says and not cook on high so often. I could leave the dishes and sit and talk to him a while. I could quit expecting so much of myself and realize that sometimes it’s okay to just be… me.

Truth Three.

I am a daughter and I am still alive. This disease has become a part of my life, but it will not claim it. I refuse to sit in a chair the rest of my life and eat bon bons ‘til I die.

(See’s Bordeaux’s maybe.)

It is still my desire that if God is willing, I will be there to take care of our parents and give back whatever I can for what they have given and done for me.

Truth Four.

I am the best friend I know how to be.

I am the best friend that I am able to be.

Most of the time.

I could do better.

When I remember I need to call back, I need to just do it right then or… I will forget once more, leaving friends to feel neglected. When I remember a friends’ birthday is near, I need to get that card out then or… well, you know. The truth is, I need to not put off until tomorrow what can be done today for the fact is, I’ll plain forget.

Truth Five.

The smile’s there (even if it can only be seen on the inside) because joy is there. My ability to still smile on the inside is due to my life purpose of being made to worship God.

There is a song by the group Watermark called ‘Knees to the Earth’. This was playing the other day as I approached a red light. As I was slowing to a stop, there ahead of me was a beautiful mountain, presently catching the first snow fall of the season. As the soft, delicate, frozen flakes fell, each finding their own place to land, the picture being created before me quickly became a most beautiful portrait. I captured it in the photo frames of my mind.

As I waited speechless at the light, the view was breathtaking and took my thoughts of purposelessness away as I listened to the words of that song playing in the background…

Beautiful Jesus, how may I bless Your heart?

Knees to the earth, I bow down to everything You are

Beautiful Jesus,You are my only worth

So I will embrace You always, as I walk this earth

Be blessed, be loved, be lifted high

Be treasured here, be glorified

I owe my life to You oh Lord

Here I am

What He’s done, Who He is – this is cause for heartfelt worship.

Holding tight. Not letting go. Through the joys, through the pain of this earthly life. When I feel alone, discouraged, displaced – it is He that I will hold on to and it is me that He will not let go.

Be blessed oh Lord, be loved, be lifted high

Be treasured here, be glorified

I owe my life to You oh Lord

Here I am

My knees fall to the earth

Without Him I am nothing. I am no one, wandering aimlessly without purpose. Not as a mother, nor a wife, nor a daughter, nor a friend. It is He I will bow before and find my worth. It is He who is deserving of my worship.

It is on my knees that I find purpose.

From my heart,

Sherri

Magical Moments

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Last week I had the grand privilege of taking my 3 1/2 yr old granddaughter, Boo, to see her great grandparents, Gigi (Boo’s name for her great grandma) and Papa. What an experience in so many ways. I always love the trip itself – whether by jet, automobile, train… I’ve never gone there by train, I’ve been on a train ride once with my grandmother from Los Angeles to Seattle. It was an adventure and another story…

This trip was by ‘aircraft’, as Boo says now instead of ‘airplane’ because that’s what the pilots called it over the speakers in the planes. Anyhow, Boo’s mom and dad said she could go with me, my mom and dad graciously paid our way north, and we were there a little over a week.

I brought some dress-up items for her, as that is one of her favorite pastimes. She dressed up in her princess dress and tutu and fairy wings and went fishing down at the river. At one point in the trip, Papa teased her about her wings, saying to her that she was nuttier than a fruitcake. Matter-of-factly she replied to him, “I AM NOT A FRUITCAKE. FRUITCAKES CAN’T FLY. FAIRIES FLY AND I AM A FAIRY.”

The other day Boo was singing and when I asked what she was singing, she replied, “I am singing a song Jackson wrote.” Jackson is her favorite stuffed dog. Jackson is a she. Jackson uses the computer to write down her songs.

“What’s the name of her song?” I asked Boo.

“I Broke the Table.”

Hmmm… that Jackson is one smart puppy, writing such profound songs with just fluff for brains. Maybe there’s hope for me…

Today was Boppa’s birthday. I put Boo down for her nap and ended up falling asleep beside her. About ten minutes into my nap, she wakes me to tell me that she’s done with her nap and that she was going to go out to the other room but she’d come back in a few minutes to check on me. “Uh, no – you’re having your nap.”

Her agenda was much different. She insisted her nap was over and that I could “just fall back to sleep and I’ll (Boo) come back in a few minutes and check on you.”

Uh, no again. She finally settled down and slept a good 2 1/2 hrs.

I love when she wakes from her nap, as she’s so cuddly. We usually rock a bit and then she’s ready to face the afternoon head on with a mind full of ideas of what to accomplish until it’s time to go home. Today it was helping Grammy set the table for Boppa’s birthday dinner.

Boo takes birthday parties very seriously. She picked out a card for Boppa with a silly, strange looking cat on the front and every time she’d look at it, she broke out giggling.

I sometimes think God puts silly, nonsensical things like that in our days to make us laugh, but we are so intent on being busy that we miss it, thereby missing out on the laughter and the joy in it all. We take life much too seriously. Life was meant to live out loud. To enjoy to its fullest. Somehow, we miss that all too often. After all, how many times have you seen a fairy with a tutu fishing?









His,
Sherri

The Colors of the Old Life

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The leaves waltz to the ground, creating a song all their own as they skip along the ground to a tune accompanied by the whistling wind. It is breathtaking to me. We were made to enjoy this – to stand in awe of every hue, every detail – as the sun pierces through the yellows, the reds, the oranges, creating the illusion of gold shimmering from the limbs of the maple trees.

Fall has got to be, hands down, my favorite season. But then, I would probably say that about each one as they transition into the other. I love to listen to the sounds of fall – the wind blowing, the leaves as they dance along the ground, neighbors raking. On a quiet day, it is a beautiful sound against the quiet. The crisp air that turns your cheeks pink and makes you long for warm cups of tea or cocoa and a good book. Colorful kites that fly high against a sky that determines whether to bring days of winter or pass the storm on by for yet another day.

It is the season of preparing the ground for the cold and hardness of the coming months. It is the shutting down of growth as we have known it for the last two seasons. It is – a time of dying. I stand in my driveway and all around me there is evidence of life slipping away. Shrubs are thinning. Vegetables have quit producing. Flowers have faded and turned to seed. Trees are almost bare and the grass lies dormant against the coming frost. And yet, it is the most beautiful of all seasons to me, for it reminds me that real beauty comes when death occurs.

The Christian’s life is like that. I have met Christians who have died to self. They are like the picture of fall, having been touched by the sun of summer and watered by the rains of spring. They are absolutely beautiful. What makes them so beautiful is their lack of self. They have become less of themselves and more like Christ. A dying to self, reflecting the colors of their Lord.

I have seen Christians who sound like fall. That may sound absurd, but theirs are the sounds of worship and praise from a heart of gratitude for what God is doing in, through, and with their life. They dance the waltz of thanksgiving. Their leaves are turning from green to brilliant yellows, oranges and reds and they are breathtaking. They are learning to let God have His way and paint His picture on their lives with such radiant colors that they reflect their Maker. However, with all that we know of fall, we know all too well that winter follows right behind. It often comes sooner and more fervently than we anticipate, much less desire. Soon the hardships and the tests of a cold, dark season must be endured. Branches will be stripped of every last leaf that was clinging to its branch.

It is in the winter season where a Christian is strengthened by the weight of the struggles he must endure. In nature, the snow falls and it can either cause a limb to be strengthened, or the branch will snap under the pressure and – so it is with us. The winter months of our lives can allow us to be strengthened like those branches or we can say ‘enough’ and snap.

If we hold tight to the Lord through the dark times and make Him our refuge, we find that eventually, the storms pass through this season we call winter and spring brings new life. New hope, soft, spring rains, the air begins to warm and buds turn into blossoms. So often we forget that in those winter months, it may seem harsh, dark, and cold, but there is life inside. A life that cannot be touched by the cold and the darkness that surrounds us. A place where buds are being formed, where blooms will burst forth. A place where God is at work even though we may not be able to see evidence right away and new life will be evident once again.Fall. We need the fall and winter seasons of life in order to experience the springs. Seasons of transformation, dying to self. Seasons of dormancy where we wonder if the sun will ever shine again.

But, it will. And it does.

Spring has come and gone, the fun of summer is coming to an end, and the beauty of fall has arrived with evidence of life transitioning from one critical season of life into another. Instead of discouragement robbing our hope of the coming winter months, let’s remember that spring will come once again. The colors of fall are a beauty to behold. How I desire to be colorful just as the leaves on the maple trees that line the city streets – dying to self so that my colors shine for His glory.

What colors do you want to be?