Love Manifested in a Whisper

A few weeks ago, I was reading through a couple of chapters in my The Organic God book by Margaret Feinberg and completing the corresponding worksheet pages for the weekly women’s Bible study I've had the pleasure of attending this autumn. One of the Scriptures Ms. Feinberg directed us to in this particular section was found in 1 Kings 19:9-13*:

The Lord Appears to Elijah

And the word of the Lord came to him: “What are you doing here, Elijah?”
¹⁰ He replied, “I have been very zealous for the Lord God Almighty. The Israelites have rejected your covenant, torn down your altars, and put your prophets to death with the sword. I am the only one left, and now they are trying to kill me too.”
¹¹ The Lord said, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.” Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. ¹² After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. ¹³ When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave.
Then a voice said to him, “What are you doing here, Elijah?”

It is a passage that God has used to tug at my heart for a number of weeks now. All I can say is wow! Just simply… wow! There is so much love conveyed in this passage that it makes my heart want to fairly burst at the seams! For starters, God had not left or abandoned Elijah, but still He called Elijah out to seek Him. Likewise, God is with us always but still He calls us to seek Him and to spend time in His presence. Then, I love how the passage goes on to describe how God did not speak to Elijah in the wind or the earthquake or the fire, but in a whisper. A whisper. To me, that moment was just saturated in love. God wasn’t present in a way that would shatter, shake or burn Elijah. Instead, He came in a way that required a closeness, a relationship and - on Elijah’s part – a listening ear. I love that God spoke not in some cosmic way but in a personal, intimate, relational way!

And it got me to thinking…

How often have I expected to see God in my circumstances, to catch sight of a bush ignited in fire but not consumed, to see the sea parted before my very eyes?

Now that’s not to say that He hasn’t or can’t or won’t reveal Himself or His will by these methods.

Because He has. And He can. And He does.

But my point is this, my friend:

It is easy to get caught up in what I can see, in trying to pinpoint the presence of God or His will based upon my circumstances, to decipher His signature in the crumbling rock or the shaking ground or the burning fire.

Sometimes, He doesn’t make His presence known in a way I can see or feel.

Sometimes, like Elijah, I have to be willing to listen.

He’s speaking.

In a whisper, He calls me by name.

“Rebecca, My child, My beloved...”

In a whisper, He calls me to seek Him.

In a whisper, He calls us all to seek Him.

It is a Creator cherishing His creation.

It is a Father bestowing favor and love upon His child.

It is a Lover wooing His beloved.

It is a King willing to make mere paupers heirs to His throne.

It is Holy Perfection beckoning us to come into His presence.

It is Love manifested in a whisper.

 

 

*Scripture taken from NIV Bible.

Little Birds and Faith

We have had two pleasant additions to our family this weekend. However, before I get around to introducing them, I have yet another story to share. And it begins a little something like this...

I have always had a fondness for little birds. Wrens and sparrows and chickadees and whatnot. Maybe it has to do with the Bible verse (Matthew 10:29-31) that says "29 Are not two sparrows sold for a penny ? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father. 30 And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. 31 So don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.^"  Maybe it has to do with Civilla Martin's old traditional hymn, His Eye is On the Sparrow. Maybe it has to do with the fact that visits to my Great-Grandma Jones' house during my growing up years meant getting to see the numerous birdhouses and bird feeders she had surrounding her home and the multitude of birds that visited them. Maybe it has to do with spring and how once the air warms enough, I leave my windows open 24/7 just so I can hear the melodious bird chirps from the moment I awake in the morning until the sun sets that night. Maybe it has to do with how easily Mary Poppins got that darling little bird to perch on her finger and sing. I don't know. And frankly, it really doesn't matter. 

But what does matter is how God has used these little creatures to teach me an invaluable lesson this past year. (Isn't it funny how God can use what seems to be the most ordinary of things to reach our hearts in such remarkable ways? Yeah. I've come to the conclusion He is just AWESOME like that!) Anyway, a few months ago, I was struggling with a number of situations and issues that were weighing heavy on my heart and my mind. I tend to worry and emotionally take on more problems than I probably should, but I also believe in a God who is more than capable of handling whatever we throw at Him. And when I find myself struggling with what life has thrown at me and the ones I love, I try to spend some extra time in quiet conversation with God, surrounding myself with His Words. On this particular night, the worrying had manifested in absolute sleeplessness. Despite enjoying the soft, quiet breeze blowing through my open windows, I couldn't sleep. After spending time in Scripture and prayer and finally turning on some random television movie, I continued to struggle. As the hour passed 4am, I was also exhausted but still unable to find peace or sleep. As I lay in bed, surround by darkness, I heard something.

The birds -who up until this point had only chirped or tweeted periodically through the  night - broke out into a beautiful chorus, with some singing a high-pitched, continuous melody and others singing softer, lower-pitched twitters. Together, they blended into a beautiful chorus filling the quiet of the pre-dawn hour. As I listened, something occurred to me.

They were singing.

The sky was still velvety black and the world was still cloaked in darkness, but the birds were singing. They were singing more beautifully than I have ever heard them sing in the daylight.

And then I heard something else. Someone else.

The still, sweet, precious voice of God.  "Don't you see? Their surroundings are dark, the sky has not yet taken on the first faint hues of dawn, but still they sing. They are doing what comes most naturally; praising their Creator. They are singing praises for the promises that have yet to be fulfilled, for the dawn and the sunlight they know is coming but cannot yet see. Their songs are born out of faith, out of trust, out of hope."

If these beautiful little creatures could accept the promise of dawn as they sit in the dark of night, and still manage to sing, surely I can trust the goodness of a Loving Father even in times of  difficulty.

And I will do it singing.

Which brings me to our two newest additions, Lou-Lou and Spot. They are two Parakeets. Lou-Lou  is a green and yellow, male parakeet and is the result of Peanut's 1 1/2 year petition to get a green bird named Lou-Lou. Spot is a periwinkle-blue, female parakeet, the result of Little Bear's 24-hour petition that it was not quite fair that Peanut now had a bird and he did not. The two little feathered friends are still in the process of settling in to their new surroundings, so they have not done much in the way of singing. However, every time they chirp or tweet, it is, for me, a sweet reminder that the peace of God can come in the midst of our struggles, that the light of hope is present even in the depths of darkness and our God is a good and loving Father.

A Story to Share

I was hoping to upload and post a few recent pics on here. However, since I am on the sick side of some sort of bug and I still have about a million and one things I need to be doing right now (none of which really includes blogging), I thought I'd cheat a bit and share an old blog story and photos. I originally posted these on Facebook, and I believe that this tragedy took place late last March. This is the tale of Stanley.

Last night we suffered a tragedy. Our dear friend, Stanley, passed away. It was inevitable, I suppose, that one such as he should die at such a relatively young age. But even knowing his chances for a long life were slim, we were still surprised by his sudden departure. It was as if one minute he was there, bobbing his way around the house, just as he had done every day for the past three or four weeks, (which, as it would happen, was the sum total of his life) and the next moment *POP!* he was gone.

It was really quite a misfortune, the way Stanley died. In a brief and unexpected encounter with Little Bear, Stanley became injured and was left, as Peanut put it best, “like a fruit”. Misshapen and deformed, Stanley was not the same. Oh, sure, he tried to put on a brave face, his smile was as big and bright as it had ever been. But, he just wasn’t Stanley anymore. After much wailing and many tears of sorrow over the loss of his very best friend by his own brother’s hands, Peanut did the only humane thing he could do for poor Stanley, “It was my only choice.” Peanut later told us. With a swift and mighty blow from his powerful, plastic sword, Stanley was no more. With tear-filled eyes, Peanut held limp, little Stanley one last time, the life of his smiling, small friend now vanished, the joy from their weeks together, now deflated.
Who would have ever guessed that such a deep and emotional bond could have formed between a little boy and his goofy little pal in just a matter of weeks? And yet it did. Wherever Peanut went within our house or car, chances were that Stanley would come, too. Even at bedtime, Stanley could be found bouncing on the bed or plopped on the floor, waiting for his friend to play with him again the next morning. Yes, we will certainly miss Stanley and his ever-present smile. We will miss Peanut’s stories of the adventures he had with “my boy ‘tanley”. Even now, over 24 hours later, Peanut is still very much grieving for his favorite friend to snuggle with at night. But Stanley is gone. Tucked away in a little corner of a jewelry box, he is close enough that Phoenix knows he is still nearby but kept safe from any future danger.

So, Stanley is gone. Such is the life of a smallish, red balloon-turned-imaginary-best-friend; short-lived but wonderfully sweet. Good-bye, Stanley.

Stanley Balloon
February 26, 2010
to
March 24, 2010

Peanut, saying his final good-bye to Stanley, while holding on to Stanley Green

(They were all named Stanley, but only Red Stanley was more than just a

balloon but was indeed a dear friend)

This was the face of absolute sorrow.


THE END



Now, nearly nine months later, Peanut still misses his Stanley. When picking out balloons for his birthday party last month, he absolutely refused the idea of getting a pack of lovely, multi-colored balloons because, after careful inspection by Peanut himself, he discovered that of all the colors that the package came with, it was missing red. Or, as Peanut put it, "It's missing 'tanley." We finally found a package that had all red balloons, so we have had a few Stanley-friends this month (all of which Peanut now names "Stanley Number ##"). None, however, have come close to being the friend his original Red Stanley was or having the adventures that Peanut and the original Stanley supposedly had.  I guess best friends simply cannot be replaced.

Counting Ourselves as Blessed

This week, we've had yet another reason to choose to count ourselves as blessed. And I assure you, it is most certainly a choice we make in seeing this event as a blessing and not as another number on a laundry list of unexpected calamities and minor catastrophes that have come our way these past couple of years.

This week, our house caught on fire. Sort of. Actually, the relay switch (?) on the refrigerator malfunctioned and instead of causing the fridge to simply quit working (as the repairman said it should have done) it kept running until the the little component began to smolder and burn.

Thankfully, mom and the boys were home and detected the ever-suffocating smell of an electrical fire and the haze of smoke filling the house and called 911. After contacting the fire department and dad (who was at work), mom called me at school. Since it was almost exactly 1pm and I was already in class (although my instructor, Mr. P, was not), I let my silenced phone kick her call over to voice mail. I proceeded to text her to ask her what she needed but almost immediately received a second call from mom. Since Mr. P was still not present, I stepped out in the hall and answered the phone only to hear mom frantically say, "Becca, the house is on fire." In that second, everything around me silenced, everything just seemed to stop. Surely I did not hear what I thought I heard, surely she did not say what I just thought she said. My response was a stunned and shaky "What?!? Not our house, right?" Yes, it was our house. I quickly got off the phone just as Mr. P was walking past me and into the room. Before anything else could be said, I simply told him that I had to leave. As I quickly, numbly, gathered my things, he asked if everything was okay. I sort of shook my head and said "My house is on fire." Seriously, that was one of the most surreal moments of my life, to have to turn and tell someone that at that moment, my house was on fire. I am quite certain I looked and sounded a bit frantic, but having no idea at that moment the extent of the supposed fired or if everyone was safe, I felt quite frantic. My mad dash across the parking lot to my car was steeped in prayer. In those seconds that seemed like hours, all I could image was the fire that had claimed one of Grandma A's neighbor's home a couple of years ago. The neighbor had put his dogs outside as he went to run errands. An electrical fire had engulfed his home less than an hour after he left. He drove down his street, believing that he was simply returning from shopping to find fire trucks blocking his street and firemen simply trying to contain the blaze of a burning structure that was only hours ago his home. It was a total loss. Everything gone. Clothing, cherished mementos, personal items, pet birds, everything. Just gone. And the look on this man's face... Shocked. Confused.  Broken.  Was this to be our fate, too?

For all the "what if's" and worst-case scenarios that my mind took on that surprisingly peace-filled ride home, the Peace of God was on my heart and my lips. Whatever the outcome of this situation, I was okay with it. I knew that God would provide for all of our needs. As soon as I made it to the main road not far from our house, I kept looking for smoke, breathing a prayer of thanks every moment I failed to see smoke.

I pulled into our street and parked in neighbor's driveway (it was only a little after 1pm and she works at a local school and does not arrive home until after 3:30pm), our driveway having been blocked by two monstrous red firetrucks. The house was intact and apparently unharmed, but the strong, sickening smell of an electrical fire met me at the end of our driveway as firemen scurried in and out of our house. After an hour or two of searching the attic, the closets, the outlets, and the walls with various pieces of equipment (because there was no visible flame) the firemen finally came to the conclusion that the refrigerator was the source of the smoke that had filled the house and the smell that choked us all up before we ever re-entered the house.

As I said, the relay switch on the refrigerator malfunctioned (which the repairman said really shouldn't have happened on a fridge that was only 5-6 years old) and instead of causing the fridge to simply quit working (as the repairman said it should have done) it kept running until the the little component began to smolder and burn.

The house was a mess but unharmed. We were a bit unnerved but safe. The smell of electrical smoke is still strong in the kitchen and family room, but it is diminishing. The fridge more or less caught fire and we had to spend the rest of the evening cleaning up the mess and emptying the fridge and freezer, but a repairman was able to fix the fridge. Had this happened when no one was home or when we were sleeping, had the smoldering fridge not been unplugged and repaired, it could have easily ignited into a flaming, burning, destructive, deadly fire. We could have lost our house, everything we own, even our lives. But we didn't. We were blessed.

I suppose that this could be viewed as something unpleasant, as one more bit of bad luck (and yes, we've even had neighbors tell us, "You guys have the worst luck" or "Just wondered what hit you all now"), or even as some sort of indication that God must simply not like us. I prefer to think of it as a blessing. Because I realize what could have happened. We were spared. We are blessed. And I am grateful.

Yes, we count ourselves as blessed.

A (Belated) Happy Thanksgiving

Given the fact that it is now December 1st, I guess it is a bit late to be posting Thanksgiving greetings. But how do you skip a day that A) is meant to remind you of all the blessings for which you should be thankful and B) was awesomely fun?

Thanksgiving is (or rather, was)… 

A)    A day to remind you of all the blessings for which you should be thankful.

To begin with, I am thankful for so many blessings in my life. My God, my sweet Jesus, my family, my friends, my home, my country, the chance to continue my education, the people I get to work alongside in the graphics design program, yummy food, fun games, a good book, art supplies, quiet time, sunshine, rainy nights, windy days, snowflakes, a good movie or TV show, colorful leaves, beautiful flowers, pretty pictures, thought-provoking sermons from my favorite pastors, visits to my favorite stores, a cup of hot, creamy coffee, laughter, joy.... the list could on and on, counting all of the blessings I am thankful for but sometimes overlook.

Actually, it reminds of the little wall plaque I saw at the Daisy Lane Scrapbook and Craft Mall in Decatur last week... "If you are so busy listing your problems, then you won't have time to count your blessings." It’s true. Sometimes we get so caught up in listing out our problems that we forget to count our blessings. Sometimes (more often than any of us would like to admit, I’m afraid) it is so easy to sit down and list our problems and in tallying the total decide that our lives are lacking, that somehow we or what we have been given just doesn’t measure up to the lives those around us. We remind ourselves that "they" (whoever "they" might be)  have a bigger house, a newer car, a better-paying job, etc. It is even more difficult when we bring in judgment to the mix and say, “They have bigger house yet they cheat on their spouse, they drive a brand-new car but they've lied on their tax returns for years, they received the promotion and the raise because of who they knew, despite the poor quality of work they do."  Like a two-year-old in the midst of a tantrum, we want to stomp our feet and proclaim to the Heavens that “It’s not fair!” And sometimes it isn’t fair. Sometimes evil seems to have its day. Sometimes bad things happen to good, Godly people. Sometimes life is hard. But God never promised us easy. And on earth, He never promised us fair. He did, however, promise to love us, to never leave us and to take us home to have eternal life with Him in Heaven someday. And therein lies the greatest blessing of all, the number on reason to be thankful, the blessing that makes all of the other blessings worth counting.

So instead of listing and numbering the problems that come my way, I am going to count my blessings. And you know what? I wouldn’t be at all surprised to find that they far outnumber the problems (if I were counting my problems, that is). Which will you chose to count?

B)    A day that was awesomely fun!

I love Thanksgiving. In fact, this holiday in and of itself is my favorite (although Christmas and Easter tend to be more spiritually substantial and meaningful.) There is just something about Thanksgiving that seems to roll up many of the best aspects of all the other holidays throughout the year and form a special unto-its-own kind of day. There are days of advanced planning required, shopping to be done, lots of cooking and baking to be completed the day before and the day of the holiday. For all of the busy work required on Thanksgiving, it is a very laid-back time when our family can get together, away from the stress of everyday life and bask in each others’ presence and the blessings we’ve been granted. It is a time of (in our house, anyway) twinkling Christmas lights and sparkling ornaments, delicious food and delightful smells, anticipation of the upcoming Christmas holidays, fun games, heartfelt movies, love and laughter. A blessed time. A peaceful time. And one of the best parts? Thanksgiving practically lasts the entire weekend, Thursday through Sunday!!!

 Mom and I began our Thanksgiving grocery shopping the Thursday before Thanksgiving. As Martha Stewart might say, it is always “a good thing” to not have to go to the grocery store at any point during the final few days before Thanksgiving. Princess came home on Friday the before Thanksgiving. Then, the day before Thanksgiving, Mom, Princess and I baked our pumpkin pies, mini apple pies and put together the cheese ball and the relish tray. Mom, dad, Princess and I began playing a game of rummy shortly after 11pm on Wednesday and did not finish our game until nearly 2am on Thanksgiving morning.

Thanksgiving Day dawned cloudy, windy, cold and extremely rainy here in the SoIll region (my favorite type of holiday weather). As the boys watched the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, mom, dad, Princess and I set to work setting the table and preparing the meal. Sweet Grandma came over around 1:30pm and the seven of us enjoyed a delightful meal together. We had the most delicious spiral ham, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, green bean casserole, dressing, corn on the cob (Peanut’s absolute favorite), hot rolls, cranberry sauce, relish tray, cheese ball, two pumpkin pies, mini apple pies, Grandma’s awesomely wonderful layered banana pudding and iced tea.

 After dinner, Princess, Little Bear, Peanut and I set the Wii up and proceeded to play Wii Party all afternoon, as Grandma, mom and dad watched, participated or slept. Around 6pm, what had started out all day as a downpour of rain began to change as the temps dropped outside and before long, the patio table and other relatively flat surfaces took on a lovely glaze of ice from the falling sleet. Uncle K and Aunt J stopped by for a couple of hours to exchange names for Christmas Eve and visit with mom, dad and Grandma in the living room while Princess, Little Bear, Peanut and I played more Wii Party and various games on Wii Fit Plus together. It was absolute wonderful fun! Mom, Princess and I drove/followed Grandma home so she did not have to travel across town by herself after dark.

What's that? That's right... ICE!!!

I tried to [unsuccessfully] get to sleep early Thursday night but failed to really fall asleep before 1:15am Friday. 45 minutes of sleep, my friends, was all that took place between going to bed on Thursday and getting up on Friday. My alarm went off at 2am to get ready to hit the stores for the early morning Black Friday sales. Even though I did not get out of bed until almost 3am, I never did go back to sleep. Shortly before 4 am, in the dark of the pre-dawn hours and in the biting cold, Princess, mom and I made our way to the primary shopping area in our town. On our way to Wal-Mart (hoping to find the Nintendo DS’s that were on sale), we passed by Target.  I wish I’d had my camera because the shoppers were lined up outside the still-closed stored, around the outside of store and a large portion of the mall all the way back to Sears. In the dark. In the bitter cold. And I did not envy them one bit.

Not finding what we wanted at a very crowded and disheveled Wal-Mart, we went on over to Target, where we were able to get into the store and do some shopping. After finding some great deals, we stood in line for an hour (yes, I clocked it) before ever reaching the check-out section. The check-out line wormed all the way in and out and around the entire store, giving us ample opportunity to shop in every possible section of the store before we were able to check out. To their credit, though, the Target folks had the whole plenty-of-workers, lots-of-organization, and no-chaos thing down perfectly. Mom, Princess and I left Target (with deals, granola bar and diet soda breakfasts in tow) just as the sun was coming up. The rest of the day was spent at Macy’s, Hallmark and Victoria’s Secret at C’dale. Can you say “more awesome deals”? Yep. Lunch at Panera and MORE SHOPPING!

When we finally got home, the car so filled with shopping bags that I wasn’t sure all three of us were going to make in home in one trip, our feet were tired but we were happy. That is, until we realized that the Target cashier had failed to give us one of our bags of DVD’s and CD’s. Another trip back to Target to retrieve the lost package, but still a great day! By the time I got to bed at a little after 2am on Saturday, I was running on just over 1 hour of  sleep in the past 24-36+ hour span.

The rest of the weekend was fairly uneventful. Princess worked on school work, we all watched wonderful Christmas movies together (thank goodness for the Hallmark Channel’s 24/7 holiday program marathon that  began last weekend and will continue up until Christmas) and played Rummy and other games at night.

Picture 1: Princess was sitting in Lizzie's spot. Lizzie was NOT happy.
Picture 2: Lizzie ALWAYS gets her way. :-)

We took Princess back to school on Sunday. We got home around 6 pm only to turn around and have mom and I take Peanut to the ER. Poor kid can’t seem to get over this horrible cough and came down with a fever Sunday on the way home. Three or four hours, one set of blood work, one set of x-rays, one dose of pain reliever medicine, one “butt shot” of antibiotics, and one breathing treatment later, Peanut was traumatized, exhausted but free to go home. Peanut wanted me to tell Little Bear that he “took it like a man” (which he so did not), but the next night he admitted that he “screamed like a girl” (which he did, although, as a girl, I cannot help but feel a bit offended). Thankfully, on Monday, Peanut’s doctor finally prescribed a breathing treatment machine for us to have at home to help with Peanut’s respiratory problems. After nearly six years of respiratory issues, it is about time.

So, that was our Thanksgiving. Busy. Fun. Wonderful.  Blessed. And I am so thankful.

Now it is time to go into full-on Christmas mode!!!