The King Never Quits

"I feel like a train wreck," I told my friend Lynn. "I'm completely tired."

She smiled. She, also, is a soldier-princess and she has been walking alongside me for years. She encourages me as only a close friend can do. She sends meals and gives me flowers. She sends texts and prays diligently for me.

As she coached me through our Pilates workout, I gained the surge of energy that would carry me through the rest of my schedule. No soldier-princess would fail to fight for her comrade, and Lynn faithfully spurred me on so I could continue to show up for love and good works.

A soldier is trained to hear the voice of truth and to obey marching orders without questioning, without doubting what the King is able to do. She has her sword, the Word of God, at the ready, her shield of faith is lifted against enemy attack and she continues to do the next right thing over and over again. The mind of a soldier stays focused on God during battles and there is peace.

A soldier-princess never quits. She continues showing up to love alongside her King in enemy territory, in the trenches of the daily hard and in the unfamiliar dark wilderness where she feels afraid and inadequate. She keeps pouring herself out, laying her all on the altar of service to the King and she considers it an honor. A soldier-princess never quits.

When the energy gauge is on empty, when physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually she is poured out for the King, it is the King who recognizes the need for a soldier to rest.

When a soldier-princess "feels like a train wreck", defeated and exhausted, she learns to wait for the familiar voice of the King. She knows her King never quits. Though a soldier cannot always leave her battlefield, the King is able to lift her soul away for awhile. He carries His exhausted and broken princess in arms of love where only He can heal, sustain and pamper her.

After the whirlwind, a still, small Voice. "Come away to a quiet place."

Away from the noise and the fray, deep in the innermost being of the soldier-princess, pain and fatigue, brokenness and confusion, prisons and disappointments are left behind.

One fist lifted warns the enemy, "Back off. She's mine." One glance at the angel army and the battle is finished. One smoothing of His hand over her and the princess rests. He sings over her, a song no other will ever hear. He quiets her with His love, calls her by a special name only she will hear through all eternity.

"You look like you're running out of steam," a neighbor called as I was limping past her house. "Are you okay?" Most mornings I am happily jogging or running when she sees me. I call out and wave, but I am unwavering in my training and discipline. Today my heart and body were aching from the inside out so I stopped to visit a few minutes.

"You need to go to a movie or even take a vacation. Or do what I do. Shut the bathroom door and have a good wailing session. Then take a hot bath and read a good book. Sometimes we just have to crash."

She's not a soldier-princess and she wouldn't understand. I may feel like a train wreck, but I'm not. I am a child of the one true King and He would never let me crash. My name is engraved on the palm of His hand. I am the apple of His eye, His protected and treasured soldier-princess. I am my Beloved's and He is mine.

 A soldier-princess never quits, but neither does her King.

Sunlight on a Cloudy Day

As I was leaving the store one December, I paused to encourage an elderly gentleman who was ringing a bell for the Salvation Army donation bucket. >

A small boy dropped some pennies into the bucket, then handed me a paper snowflake he had made.

"Thank you so much," I told the boy. "What a kind thing you are doing to give both your money and a snowflake to help other children."

"My mom gave me the money, but I made the snowflake," he said softly. "Do you think some kid would like to have it?"

I smiled at his "widow's mite" and nodded. "Very much. Snowflakes make everything better, don't you think?"

He agreed and reached into his pocket. Sprinkles of glitter fluttered around us, a snow fall in a rainbow of colors as he pulled out a stack of paper snowflakes. "Would these help, too?"

I glanced up and noticed tears in the eyes of the old gentleman still faithfully ringing the bell. I looked back into the bright, hopeful eyes of the young boy. With my hands full of paper snowflakes I began to sing, "Away in a Manger."

The little boy grinned and began to sing along. The older gentleman joined in with a strong, cheerful bass voice. Then an elderly woman, waiting beside her cart for a ride, began to sing along. In moments, a crowd of strangers was smiling and singing Christmas carols one after another.

The Christmas season has been left behind.  February winds have blown in swirling, sparkling snow. Focus on giving has turned to complaints about the weather, a longing for spring as beautiful snow becomes dirty and tiresome.

Sabbath heart, a heart set on things above, not on earthly things, is a heart with steadfast peace.  Goodness and faithfulness are my focus. A Sabbath heart does not brood over circumstances, does not spread negativity. We are the sunlight on a gray, dreary day. We share the God-colors and God-light in a dark weary world.

Let your light shine in such a way that others will see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven. 

One small boy believed a paper snowflake could change his world...and it did.

Magenta Words

My mother taught me to write words before I was old enough for school. With a treasured box of Crayola Crayons beside me, I grasped my favorite magenta crayon in awkward, eager fingers. I drew each letter carefully, writing "I love you", my first sentence, on a paper heart.

My mother encouraged me as I created one valentine after another. A plain white heart covered with magenta words became a thing of beauty to treasure, something precious to share.

I remember running up the steps and flinging wide the back door of my grandmother's house. Grandma knelt to hold me close as I showed off my words.

"She wrote this?" Grandma asked my mother, obviously pleased with my treasure.

My mother nodded. "She made it for you."

I smiled. My words had the power to change my world and bring happiness. Heady stuff for a preschooler.

God wrote "I love you" with His own blood on my ordinary heart. I am beautiful because I am His treasure. I am His special something to share. So are you.

On the front of my Bible is stamped in gold, "The Word of God". God's Words have the power to change my world and bring happiness. Heady stuff for an ordinary heart.

He brought us to life using the true Word, showing us off as the crown of all His creatures. And I will treasure His words in my heart so that I will not sin against Him.

The To-Do List

"A to-do list?" laughed Stephanie, "I always have one, but never finish it! Motherhood steps in and everything falls apart. I can't balance everything."

Is there any among us who hasn't looked at our to-do list and wanted to stamp it: "Impossible. Going back to bed."

"Life isn't meant to be this hard, is it?" Stephanie asked.  "My goals shouldn't be foes to conquer! They're supposed to bring joy, right?"

When life is full of joy, the heart is restful.  Joy propels us forward. It pushes away thoughts of defeat and failure. The joy of the Lord is our strength. He is the great joyride with a never ending supply. When joy is flowing, we build momentum and motivation. We feel happy about who we are and what God is doing through us, in us. The to-do list looks possible.

"Nobody ever tells you how hard it is to maintain joy and peace with four children underfoot," Stephanie confesses. "My life is one giant interruption.  I want to be strong. But I'm not. I'm just not."

Jesus had a to-do list:
      1. Spend time with the Father.
      2. Show up to love.
  
People clamored and shouted and made demands for His attention. Joy spurred Him on to love and good works. But He, too, got tired, frustrated and stressed. He needed to get away just like you and I do. Oh, how He understands the mothers of young children!

The needs and interruptions were opportunities for love and grace. His life bore much fruit because of His habit to get away to a quiet place with the Father. His mind was set on things above.

Pull out that festive paper you bought for your to-do lists. 
        1.  Spend time with the Father.
        2.  Show up to love.

Like a shepherd He will tend His flock.  In His arm He will gather the lambs, and carry them in His bosom;  He will gently lead the nursing ewes. -Isaiah 40:11

Who better than the Good Shepherd to show you how to care for your young? Ask and it will be given to you.  Seek and you will find. 

Soldier-Princess: Thanks Giving

Burrowing into my soft robe, I snuggled under a quilt before the fire, a steaming cup of tea warming my hands. Soft jazz soothed my weary spirit. As I breathed in the lingering sweetness of gingerbread and glanced around at the photos of my healthy loved ones, I smiled. 

The cheerful surroundings called me to a thankful heart with relaxed ease. My heart, fueled by thanks giving, frequently bursts forth into song.

But am I truly thankful or am I reacting to creature comforts and happy thoughts? Am I thankful only when life is going my way?

An avalanche of misery and suffering in the world can so quickly overwhelm us. Burrowing into a robe of complacency and snuggling under a quilt of happiness is a mistake, however cozy we can make ourselves feel. That sort of thanks giving is temporary and accomplishes little. We cannot sustain happy feelings in a world where life is hard.

There is a giving of thanks that is more powerful and steadfast available to us. It goes deeper than transient feelings because it comes from praising God's gifts rather than our own perception of circumstances.

Faith that moves mountains starts with being truly thankful in all seasons of life. The me I want to be is beckoning me toward a life of deeper faith, a faith fueled by thanks giving no matter what my circumstances. 

Am I thankful when disease exhausts and disappoints?  Am I thankful when my heart is broken? Does my thanks giving fade away when my hardship surpasses my strength? In my weakness, am I thankful for the opportunity to prove God's strength? 

A soldier-princess is not surprised to find herself called into battle. She serves at the pleasure of The King and considers it an honor. She doesn't quit and she doesn't fall back until circumstances are easier. 

When life gets tough, the soldier-princess turns into a warrior of thanks giving. She sees with The King's eyes and loves with The King's heart. Confident that joy will come through thanks giving, she picks up her sword, the Word of God, lifts her shield of faith, and follows The King into battle. 

Oatmeal Moments

Kate Ware, Flickr

Who taught you how to make oatmeal?" Katherynn asks. "Are we going to have walnuts and raisins in it? I like brown sugar in mine. I don't think I want apples in it today. Is that cinnamon? Because I like cinnamon. Do you like stirring oatmeal? It looks fun."

She watches as I stir oatmeal, memorizing my motions as if I were creating a gourmet meal rather than a simple breakfast.

 A child is a sponge, soaking in love and savoring life, one moment at a time.

I smile and hug Katherynn close. "I do like stirring oatmeal. Making breakfast for a little girl is one of the most fun things I get to do."

She grins as she spoons hot oatmeal into green bowls. "It's pretty, isn't it? And we can decorate it now!"

Decorating oatmeal? Yes. I want to be a person who decorates oatmeal.

Seeing the beautiful in the simple, the extraordinary in the ordinary, turns my heart toward the God whose strength sustains me with joy when my own strength is spent.  A heart trained to ponder what is good, what is worthy of praise, especially in the ordinary, is a heart that will more easily endure pain and suffering.

I don't know if Jesus decorated his oatmeal with honey and figs, but I know he was a little boy sharing life with a mother who treasured little moments with him. She surely trained him to be thankful for simple, ordinary blessings.

And, because she did, He had much to ponder that was good and worthy of praise when He had to endure pain and suffering, when he was exhausted by the noise and fray around him.

"Let the little children come unto Me," Jesus said.  "For of such is the kingdom of heaven."

Hoarding and the Inmate

"There's so much to clean out of this house. Truckloads!" Shelby moaned. "I'm not exaggerating. How can we move? How will we ever get past the piles of...stuff?"

Hoarders. We see them on the television and our eyes widen. How do they live like that? How can they not see their clutter is holding them back from a well lived life?

I have a neighbor who cleans out her garage about once a month. She says she is determined to live a better life. She pulls everything out of her garage, rearranges it, then returns nearly all of it to the garage. If something doesn't fit her new arrangement, she piles it by her front door or has a garage sale. Most of it slowly returns to the garage until the next time.

In prison you don't have a lot of stuff. There may be a few possessions you have collected during your stay, but, your job income of 75 cents an hour in the prison only allows for  necessities.

Hoarding is still a problem. Even in the prison. Not the hoarding of physical stuff, but the hoarding of sins.

Inmates do not have the luxury of ignoring their sins. They are offenders and their sins must be punished. A prisoner who longs for a better life must not only do the time, but redeem the time. Change that results from sorting through the clutter of sin is their only hope.

Many of us are in prisons of our own making. We make an effort to get rid of sins, to clean out the garage of the heart. But sin clutter mostly gets moved around, hidden behind walls or disguised with pretty words.  If we can laugh about the sin, we lessen its importance. In the end, like my neighbor in her garage ,most sins receive a little more time to continue cluttering our lives.

It's easier to consider sin by the truckload. "I'm just out of shape" is somehow acceptable clutter so that we don't have to exercise or take good care of the body, God's dwelling place. Hiding anger, pride or laziness behind words like "I'm just tired" or "All moms yell sometimes" somehow makes it easier to walk past the sins rather than removing them.

Some hoarders recognize the problem, but, like my neighbor, merely rearrange their possessions. The possessions look valuable, helpful. It makes them feel prepared for a future day.

Pride can seem valuable. Greed can seem helpful. Selfishness can make us feel prepared for a future day. The rich young ruler walked away sad because he had many possessions. His "stuff" kept him from living by faith not sight. He had much but did not live well because his choices kept him from giving God first place in his heart.

Less of me and my stuff opens up room for more of Him.

"Just tell me what to do and where to start," a young prisoner said to me. She has seven children and one on the way. She's a new Christian and ready to rid herself of piles of sin clutter. We start the same way I unload my own truckload of junk. One sin at a time.