Grace in Small Places

He also brought me out into a broad place;

He delivered me because He delighted in me.
Psalm 18:19

I'm learning that God's grace comes to us in surprising places . . . 

And many times that His grace comes in small places, in unexpected places, in places that the world looks over, but that the Lord sees as His stepping-stones to glory.

The manger, a small place, that held the glory of the Son of Righteousness, the Firstborn of creation. 

A small basket, whose five loaves and two fish fed 5000 and a small boy who offered the meager and the small. 

A small following - twelve disciples - whose testimony through the Lord's power shook nations. 

The Lord works through small things, so that His glory may shine greater through the impossibility of it all. 

And that all the glory is His alone. 

I'm in a small place right now. 

I didn't think of it as small when I first married, when my husband and I made our "home" in my Mom's home 5 years ago. 

It was cozy then, and we didn't need a lot of space; it was adequate, and we loved living with my Mom and still do. 

But then, the first baby came along, a little girl, and things got "cozier." 

It was still alright, though, and became a little easier when my Mom offered us the spare room for her to sleep in just before I gave birth to our second child.

A little boy. 

And I thought, how am I going to do this, fit all of our things, keep everything organized, stay sane? 

Add to this that my Mom has her house up for sale and most of my belongings are in storage. 

And that I am by nature an excessively organized person - for better, or for worse - and that I feel like I'm losing it when things are "out of place." 

I felt overwhelmed. And I looked at the clutter around me, the organized clutter, but clutter nonetheless, and I felt like it was closing in around me. 

And the space seemed so small  and I envied my friends who owned homes and even the ones who had apartments and I thought, if only I had more space. 

If only I had more space . . . 

If only I could organize my baby's toys and books . . . 

If only I could find Elisha's baby book - it must be packed away somewhere . . . 

If only, if only, if only. 

But the Lord constantly speaks to me in this small place, and though I still struggle with discontentment, I ultimately would not have it any other way.

Because this is His will for me right now. 

I know, I know, I know that He has placed me here for this time and that at the right time, He will bring me out into a spacious place. 

There are lessons that I have learned in this "small place" that I could never have learned anywhere else. 

So I would not change anything. 

And this small place holds blessings, hidden blessings, when I look beyond the "littleness" of my own thinking. 

My mother's constant loving influence on my children and the Godly advice that she offers me on a daily basis . . . 

Learning contentment in a "small place" so that by His grace, I may not take His provision for granted if He should choose to place me in a larger place . . .

My sister's help with my daughter when I was healing after giving birth to my second child . . .

My family's constantly stepping in to watch my babies for doctor's appointments, etc. 

So many blessings, countless blessings. 

And I'm reminded -

Reminded that the Lord works through the small, through the insignificant for
His glory.

And I believe that He will work through my small place, too. 

He's humbling me, teaching me to depend upon Him, softening my nit-pickiness into surrender. 

Sometimes we want great things, big things, when the Lord often works through the small. 

We want greatness, and then the Lord teaches us that to become great we must first learn to serve (Mark 10:35-45).

That He takes widows' mites, and poverty and our lack of ability so that He can work His glory and strength through our weakness. 

He works through small places . . . and then in His perfect timing, enlarges the pathway under us, so that our feet do not slip. 

So I hold onto this promise, and thank Him in the meantime for the grace to grow in this blessed small place:

“Enlarge the place of your tent,

And let them stretch out the curtains of your dwellings;

Do not spare;

Lengthen your cords,

And strengthen your stakes. 

For you shall expand to the right and to the left, 

And your descendants will inherit the nations, 

And make the desolate cities inhabited." 

Isaiah 52:2-3

You might find me on these link-ups:

Strangers and Pilgrims on Earth, The Modest Mom, What Joy is Mine, Yes They Are All Ours, Missional Call, A Mama's Story, Mom's the Word, Rich Faith Rising, Time Warp Wife, Cornerstone Confessions, Mom's Morning Coffee, So Much at Home, Raising Homemakers, Hope in Every Season, A Wise Woman Builds Her Home, Woman to Woman Ministries, Whole-Hearted Home, A Soft Gentle Voice, My Daily Walk in His Grace, Messy Marriage, My Teacher's Name is Mama, The Charm of Home, Graced Simplicity, Children Are A Blessing, Mittenstate Sheep and Wool, Imparting Grace, Preparedness Mama, A Look at the Book, Essential Thing Devotions, Count My Blessings, Beauty Observed, Christian Mommy Blogger, Renewed Daily, Soul Survival, Good Morning Mondays, Oakhill Homestead

Christmas and the Wealth of Tradition--Part 2

“The things that we do regularly, that cause us in our deepest being to know and love and want God—to have our lives infiltrated by God—those things are traditions.”

- Noel Piper

They sit together on the creaky tan recliner and my Mama lights a candle . . . lights a candle for the fourth, the fifth, the sixth time. And little Debbie all aglow, perched on her lap, listens to my Mama sing to her, again and again and again-- “Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright . . .” And my daughter holds the ornament that my Mom bought in a consignment shop, the globe of thick glass enveloping Mary, Joseph and baby Jesus inside, looped with a thin gold string for hanging on the Christmas tree.

Every night, my Mama sings with Debbie, and they light candle after candle after candle . . . and Debbie holds her treasured ornament. My Mama wanted Debbie to recognize the song when we sang it at the Christmas Eve service on December 24th . . . to recognize the candle and to one day realize that the light we hold symbolizes Jesus, the Light of the world, who came to bring the light of the glory of God into this dark world of sin.

So they sing together, Debbie listening intently, her eyes transfixed on the candle, her soft little child-hands holding the representation of the holy family. And even though she doesn’t understand it all now, the repetition seeps into her tiny heart and one day it will all mean something to her—

Repetition . . . Elisabeth Elliot once wisely pointed out in one of her books that repetition is never forbidden in the Word of God, only vain repetition. Because we remember by doing . . . over and over and over. We remember by repeating the same truth, the same act, the same memory verse. We remember. When we light the Advent wreath year after year after year, it helps us to remember, to recall, to cherish the ancient truths that each candle symbolizes. When we hang a Christmas wreath on our front door, we think of the beautiful new life that God has given to us through His precious Son, the verdant green reminding us of hope in the midst of winter. When we sing the wonderful old carols, the Christmas hymns, the ones that we grew up on and learned by heart, something fresh springs forth in our souls—the seed of remembrance shoots forth and the repetition of those truths year after year ministers to our redeemed beings.

Maybe this is why we are instructed to remember “the Lord’s death until He comes” by taking Communion, whether it be month by month or less or more frequently. We shouldn’t “need” to physically eat and drink a representation of the Lord’s body and blood, and yet, our God commands it. Why? Because we remember through repetition, through the act of doing—not legalistically, but joyfully, in contemplative love. We remember the great depths of His love and the sacrifice of His only Son. Through repetition, we remember.

And we have our own traditions that we keep in our homes and with our families. Some read the Christmas story together on Christmas day or on Christmas Eve. Some eat certain special foods—maybe a recipe that has been in the family for years, that has been passed on through generations. Some decorate their Christmas tree on a certain day. Some share memories of Christmases past or watch A Christmas Carol.

It’s important for a family to establish their own traditions, whether borrowed from someone else, whether concocted or hatched on their own. And they should be fun and meaningful, but ultimately Christ-centered—not just “family-centered,” but Christ centered. Because if Christ is our life, then His presence, His influence should pervade all that we do and say. Let our traditions be festive and full of laughter and brimming over with the grace and hope of our Savior.

It’s also important for a family to establish traditions that are rooted in Christ because this bonds a Christian family together, brings a warmth that finds it’s center in Jesus, and brings glory to Him. It is a way for a family to magnify the Lord together, through meaningful traditions that bring joy to our souls and impart grace to our hearts.

As Noel Piper says in her book Treasuring God in our Traditions, there are “especially times,” times when we pause and stop and reflect and remember an event in a special, out of the ordinary way—like Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving. When we fail to make these events special and meaningful and Christ-centered, in whatever way that the Holy Spirit leads us, we lose something of their significance and importance in our lives. We remember Christ’s birth in a special way, because it holds such significance for us as believers. Christmas is not an ordinary day.

So let what Dickens says of Ebenezer Scrooge in A Christmas Carol, be true of us--“And it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us!” May we keep Christmas well, also, in the thoughts and contemplations of our hearts and through the traditions that help us to turn those hearts towards Him. At Christmas and at every “especially time,” for the glory of Jesus and the joy of our hearts.

You might find me on these link-ups:

Strangers and Pilgrims on Earth, The Modest Mom, What Joy is Mine, Yes They Are All Ours, Missional Call, A Mama's Story, Mom's the Word, Rich Faith Rising, Time Warp Wife, Cornerstone Confessions, Mom's Morning Coffee, So Much at Home, Raising Homemakers, Hope in Every Season, A Wise Woman Builds Her Home, Woman to Woman Ministries, Whole-Hearted Home, A Soft Gentle Voice, My Daily Walk in His Grace, Messy Marriage, My Teacher's Name is Mama, The Charm of Home, Graced Simplicity, Children Are A Blessing, Mittenstate Sheep and Wool, Imparting Grace, Preparedness Mama, A Look at the Book, Essential Thing Devotions, Count My Blessings, Beauty Observed, Christian Mommy Blogger, Renewed Daily, Soul Survival, Good Morning Mondays, Oakhill Homestead

Christmas and the Wealth of Tradition

Eternal Love, warm and new and ancient and beautiful, wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger . . . the Lamb of the ages, helpless and scented with fresh-birth and sweet straw and the clear, thin scent of the cold night air. And He is Emmanuel, God with us, God with His people, the Firstborn of Creation with the late-born of men.

He is here, in our hearts, His presence within us, His presence all around us, His presence speaking to us through His creation. We light a candle. The lovely glimmer of light for remembrance. We remember and we are hushed and His presence is with us—not through the candle, but the candle helps us to remember. Helps us to remember, because we so easily forget and are burdened, heavy-weighed with the stresses and the visiting and the baking and the relatives and the bustle of the season. Helps us to quiet our hurrying hearts and remember.

And I think of the film The Nativity Story and the wise man bending low before the tiny King and offering his myrrh of remembrance, the myrrh that speaks of the Sacrifice yet to be made—a tangible symbol of what is to come, the anointing of His body for burial after the crucifixion. Symbols, remembrances. We are human and so easily forget. Sometimes in His compassion towards us, the Lord provides a symbol, a means to help us to remember.

We don’t need the Advent wreath, the poinsettias, the Nativity scene so gently and lovingly placed in our homes, the lights, the crisp green wreaths, the carols playing in our cars, the meaningful Advent hymns sung in our churches. But they may help us to remember. And we so easily forget. Forget what Christmas is all about—the King of glory coming down to us in innocence and holy light and dwelling among us. God with us; Glory with us—to the praise of His glory.

One of the Christmas traditions that sticks in my mind is the Christmas Eve service in the church of my childhood. At the very end of the service, the lights were dimmed and we each held a candle and sang "Silent Night" with our brothers and sisters. And our hearts were hushed in that quiet country church and we remembered together that silent night long ago when the Sacrifice lay in a crude manger and came in humility, mainly unnoticed by the world at large.

A small number compared to the vast armies of men and women celebrating materialism and “good cheer” and “giving” at parties and in homes around the world, but we gathered around the Sacrifice, gathered quietly, as they did so many years ago. We gathered quietly and we sang reverently and we pondered afresh what the Almighty had done for our souls. And we brought Him glory and wonder, as the Wise Men did, and we brought Him adoration and reverence, as the shepherds did, and we layed our souls low before Him, the Humble God-Man who was and is and is to come.

And we quietly left the sanctuary and our hearts were hushed and our spirits were lifted and we went our separate ways to our homes and we slept in our beds that are not straw but are warm and comfortable and we thought of the One for Whom we lighted a candle. And we thought of the light that burns brightly in our hearts, the Spirit of Truth and Grace, the One that the world will not receive, but by His grace and mercy, we have received.

Symbols are not necessary, but they are important. They leave visual pictures in our minds and impress upon us the importance of certain events, people, days, times. The lighting of a candle, the meaning behind the candy cane, the names of Jesus--“Lamb,” the “Good Shepherd,” the Rod of Jesse, the King of Kings—all evoking vivid pictures- symbols, of our Lord.

The symbols are not to be worshiped, but they help us to worship the One whom they represent. They help us to remember. They help us to pause and to think and to wonder. We are not bound by tradition, but tradition touches us, touches our souls and preserves something of the sacred surrounding certain events. Tradition keeps something for us, keeps the wonder, the significance, holds the key to meaning; tradition is not the meaning itself, but a means.

This is one of the reasons that I enjoy J.R.R. Tolkein’s The Lord of the Rings so much—his books are full of symbolism and wonder and imagination—so many things in them remind me of truths in the Scriptures and I think that the Lord allowed this for a reason—that even a fictional story can be used to point to the one True Story. And this is just what symbols can do--point us to truth.

Next Week: Part 2

You might find me on these link-ups:

Strangers and Pilgrims on Earth, The Modest Mom, What Joy is Mine, Yes They Are All Ours, Missional Call, A Mama's Story, Mom's the Word, Rich Faith Rising, Time Warp Wife, Cornerstone Confessions, Mom's Morning Coffee, So Much at Home, Raising Homemakers, Hope in Every Season, A Wise Woman Builds Her Home, Woman to Woman Ministries, Whole-Hearted Home, A Soft Gentle Voice, My Daily Walk in His Grace, Messy Marriage, My Teacher's Name is Mama, The Charm of Home, Graced Simplicity, Children Are A Blessing, Mittenstate Sheep and Wool, Imparting Grace, Preparedness Mama, A Look at the Book, Essential Thing Devotions, Count My Blessings, Beauty Observed, Christian Mommy Blogger, Renewed Daily, Soul Survival, Good Morning Mondays, Oakhill Homestead

Why We Celebrate Christmas

The line was really long--

The kind of line that you try to avoid--

The kind of line that you get stuck in because you have two coupons that you want to use and they expire today. 

So you're stuck in a line and you're tapping your foot and glancing at your watch and eavesdropping in on the conversations around you. 

And the girl behind me was frustrated --there with her grandmother--her grandmother who understood little English--and the girl spoke under her breath--

Why do we celebrate the holidays anyway? To give presents? Isn't that what birthdays are for? 

And I heard her words, her flung-out words into that store and they shook me.

Because it suddenly struck me that many in the younger generation don't even understand what Christmas is all about anymore. 

We live in a society where Jesus has been so carefully and subtly removed that the holidays don't signify what they once did, even 50 years ago. 

Not that the whole of society had a saving relationship with the Lord, but, as a whole, I think that we understood the why of Christmas a little more clearly. 

And the Enemy has so distracted our minds and our hearts in these days that many, many don't even understand why we stop and remember--

Remember the little Baby in the manger, remember the hush of that night long ago, the glow of angel's breath in the chill air, the wonder and the beauty of the Son of God come to earth. 

For all mankind. 

Mankind who has now forgotten Him, forgotten why He came, even forgotten that He came. 

How do we tell them? 

How do we tell our neighbors and our friends and those we come into contact with that He came, touch their hearts with the message of Christmas, of our Savior's birth.

By living the truth of His coming.

In whatever sphere He has placed us--

Living before our children, before our relatives, before our friends and neighbors, before Him. 

Making a conscious effort to place the Messiah at the center of our celebrations, of our rejoicing, of our cooking, baking, shopping--

Living in an uncluttered, undistracted way that points ourselves and others to Jesus. 

This will look different in different people's lives--but in every believer's life will be authentic, life giving, joy-offering. 

He can teach us and give us the grace to do it. 

So that others may know--

Why we celebrate Christmas. 

You might find me on these link-ups:

Strangers and Pilgrims on Earth, The Modest Mom, What Joy is Mine, Yes They Are All Ours, Missional Call, A Mama's Story, Mom's the Word, Rich Faith Rising, Time Warp Wife, Cornerstone Confessions, Mom's Morning Coffee, So Much at Home, Raising Homemakers, Hope in Every Season, A Wise Woman Builds Her Home, Woman to Woman Ministries, Whole-Hearted Home, A Soft Gentle Voice, My Daily Walk in His Grace, Messy Marriage, My Teacher's Name is Mama, The Charm of Home, Graced Simplicity, Children Are A Blessing, Mittenstate Sheep and Wool, Imparting Grace, Preparedness Mama, A Look at the Book, Essential Thing Devotions, Count My Blessings, Beauty Observed, Christian Mommy Blogger, Renewed Daily, Soul Survival, Good Morning Mondays, Oakhill Homestead

Juana Mikel's Choosing Him All Over Again

I am extremely excited and feel blessed to be a member of Juana Mikels' Launch Team for her book, Choosing Him All Over Again.

I'll be reviewing her wonderful, encouraging, and insightful book on strengthening marriages and learning to love our spouses in the way that God intended-- 

Juana's book can be pre-ordered NOW on Amazon here.

Her book is OFFICIALLY releasing on January 5th, 2015. 

Order a copy now or on her official release date; it will be a blessing to you and to your marriage. :-)

For more information about Juana, visit her blog: 

http://www.juanamikels.com

You might find me on these link-ups:

Strangers and Pilgrims on Earth, The Modest Mom, What Joy is Mine, Yes They Are All Ours, Missional Call, A Mama's Story, Mom's the Word, Rich Faith Rising, Time Warp Wife, Cornerstone Confessions, Mom's Morning Coffee, So Much at Home, Raising Homemakers, Hope in Every Season, A Wise Woman Builds Her Home, Woman to Woman Ministries, Whole-Hearted Home, A Soft Gentle Voice, My Daily Walk in His Grace, Messy Marriage, My Teacher's Name is Mama, The Charm of Home, Graced Simplicity, Children Are A Blessing, Mittenstate Sheep and Wool, Imparting Grace, Preparedness Mama, A Look at the Book, Essential Thing Devotions, Count My Blessings, Beauty Observed, Christian Mommy Blogger, Renewed Daily, Soul Survival, Good Morning Mondays, Oakhill Homestead

Exciting, God-honoring, Middle-Grade Fiction--Jemima and the Mystery of the Missing Cufflinks

Just Released, Thanksgiving Day, 

November 27th, 2014

Jemima and the Mystery of the Missing Cufflinks,

written by Alicia G. Ruggieri, author of The House of Mercy and The Fragrance of Geraniums

The first book in a series, set in Regency England. 

Intended for girls ages 9-12 

Jemima and the Mystery of the Missing Cufflinks can be purchased on Amazon, available in paperback or Kindle. Click here.

This book would make an excellent Christmas gift. 

From the back of the book:

An eleven-year-old in Regency England, Jemima can hardly contain her excitement when she learns that Cousin Aimée is coming for an extended visit.

However, Aimée turns out to be a different sort of girl than Jemima expected. Disdainful and rude but oh-so-accomplished, Aimée certainly doesn’t want Jemima to be her friend… and Jemima doesn’t want to spend any more time with Aimée than she must! To make matters worse, when household items start to go missing, including Reverend Sudbury’s heirloom cufflinks, Aimée accuses the Sudburies’ faithful servant Robert of theft.

Secret searches, overheard conversations, and night adventures lead to a solution to this mystery story in which Jemima learns that Jesus can give her the power to love her enemies.

For more information about Alicia and her writing, visit her:

Blog: http://www.abrighterdestiny.blogspot.com

Facebook Page: http://www.facebook.com/AliciaGRuggieri

Twitter Account: http://www.twitter.com/aliciaruggieri

You might find me on these link-ups:

Strangers and Pilgrims on Earth, The Modest Mom, What Joy is Mine, Yes They Are All Ours, Missional Call, A Mama's Story, Mom's the Word, Rich Faith Rising, Time Warp Wife, Cornerstone Confessions, Mom's Morning Coffee, So Much at Home, Raising Homemakers, Hope in Every Season, A Wise Woman Builds Her Home, Woman to Woman Ministries, Whole-Hearted Home, A Soft Gentle Voice, My Daily Walk in His Grace, Messy Marriage, My Teacher's Name is Mama, The Charm of Home, Graced Simplicity, Children Are A Blessing, Mittenstate Sheep and Wool, Imparting Grace, Preparedness Mama, A Look at the Book, Essential Thing Devotions, Count My Blessings, Beauty Observed, Christian Mommy Blogger, Renewed Daily, Soul Survival, Good Morning Mondays, Oakhill Homestead

For Things Eternal: Children and Prayer

Prayer honors God, acknowledges His being, exalts his power, adores His providence, secures His aid.

--E.M. Bounds

The men upon whose shoulders rested the initial responsibility of Christianizing the world came to Jesus with one supreme request. They did not say, "Lord, teach us to preach"; Lord, teach us to do miracles,'"or "Lord, teach us to be wise'". . . but they said, "Lord, teach us to pray."

 --Billy Graham

Someone is praying for you... someone is praying for you...

I rock my daughter to sleep on the well-used glider and we hear the strains together of the CD that is playing softly in the background. 

Someone is praying for you... someone is praying for you-

So the Mennonite choir sings and the words roll softly over and over-

And my daughter slowly nods off, her little head against my arm, her strawberry-blond hair still wet from her bath.

Then I place her gently in her crib and I see her little face all-lovely and peaceful.

And I pause a moment and I pray over my daughter while she sleeps. 

Later, I pause over my son and pray-

And then watch as his face smooths and he drifts into sleep, covered with the blanket of prayer. 

How important is prayer to me?

Because we live in a society that is so concerned, so consumed with physical safety - carseat placement, vaccinations, bike helmets, and the list goes on and on... 

But not so much with spiritual safety. 

And though no good parent would deny that physical safety is important, sometimes I have to ask myself honestly-

Do I care as much about my child's spiritual safety?

And I think that the answer lies in what we allow into our homes,  into our children's minds, into our children's hearts-

And it also lies in the emphasis that we place upon spiritual things - over the things that will inevitably pass away.  

So I think about something that my Mom urges my sisters and I to do - her words come again and again to my mind. 

Let your children see you pray... It's so important...

Let your children see you pray...

So I pray with my daughter before she goes to sleep - and I try to pray on my knees - so that she sees this - I want her little heart to grasp the idea of reverence for the Lord. 

And then I pray over her as she sleeps - for protection, for grace - that the Lord would draw her heart to Himself as she grows older. 

Because prayer is so important.

And I think of John Paton's father, his son a pioneer missionary to the New Hebrides, praying in a literal closet, for years - and his children heard their father's muffled voice and knew that he was praying for them. 

I think of another parent, a mother--Hudson Taylor's, who felt the Holy Spirit leading her to pray in a locked room until she sensed an inner peace that her son had become converted. Later, he would go as a faith missionary to China and begin a great work there - the China Inland Mission - going where others would not dare to go. 

Two parents - one a father and one a mother - two men - mightily used by God, moved through prayer - the means through which the Lord works. 

And so I pray - because I want to value the things that are important-

So I seek, through the grace of God alone, to pray with my children-

To pray for them-

And to let them see it when they can-

See me turn to God in prayer when I'm overwhelmed, 

When I'm tired, 

When I'm worried, 

When I see the beauty of His creation all around and praise Him-

So that they may value the things that are important-

The things that are eternal,

For the glory of God.

I share my posts with these blogs: Strangers and Pilgrims on Earth, The Modest Mom, What Joy is Mine, Yes They Are All Ours, Missional Call, A Mama's Story, Mom's the Word, Rich Faith Rising, Time Warp Wife, Cornerstone Confessions, Mom's Morning Coffee, So Much at Home, Raising Homemakers, Hope in Every Season, A Wise Woman Builds Her Home, Woman to Woman Ministries, Whole-Hearted Home, A Soft Gentle Voice, My Daily Walk in His Grace, Messy Marriage, My Teacher's Name is Mama, The Charm of Home, Graced Simplicity, Children Are A Blessing, Mittenstate Sheep and Wool, Imparting Grace, Homestead Lady, Deborah Jean's Dandelion House, Preparedness Mama, A Look at the Book, Essential Thing Devotions, Count My Blessings, Beauty Observed, Christian Mommy Blogger, Serenity You, Renewed Daily, Sunday Stillness, The Beauty in His Grip, Tales of a Kansas Farm Mom.

Beauty in the Dying

The fast-dimming sky peered back at me, unmoved and I drew my jacket around me closer, shuddering a little. 

November-brisk days and soon it will be too cold to bring my babies outside before supper. 

The trees seemed to stare at me, emotionless, and the dim, dull ache inside bit away at my sagging spirit. 

I looked above, and there was the great, strong tree in our backyard, stripped bare of almost all of its leaves, its glory quick-departing. 

I felt like that tree as I stared back at it, stared back at it against the backdrop of the unfeeling sky, oblivious to the cries of my soul. 

Felt like that tree stripped of its leaves - felt like it right down to the physical reality of shedding away almost half of my hair in the shower--great wet clumps every time I washed it, my strength seemingly stripped away and my body, tired and drained, all-spent from giving life to one baby after the other. 

Life. . . 

And the leaves lay on the ground, dying, while the world spun and I was lost in my thoughts of sorrow that seemed to swallow all of me up and spin me out there on the cold November ground among the lonely, life-stripped leaves.

Lost in my reverie, a baby sleeping peacefully against me, I could not shake myself from the sorrow-

The sorrow of tasting death there in cold November,

The sorrow that was robbing me of joy in the month of culminating thanksgiving. 

I could not shake away the sorrow, and my very body felt, was weary, drained, seeming-useless. 

Until a breath of warmth spoke, there to my lifeless heart among the fallen glory of the leaves--

There is a beauty in the dying---

And no, no, not in death, not in death itself, because death is cold and harsh and ugly - like the sparrow that I saw lying on the ground outside as I walked into church this morning, wet-washed and spit out of the night into that brisk November morning--

Death is ugly--

He remembers each sparrow that falls to the ground...

Beauty in the dying, in the all-abundant colors of the falling leaves spinning to the ground, their last glory bathing the earth in beauty. 

Beauty in surrender, in the giving, in the seed thrusting itself from the flower, falling, falling, dying, into the ground to be buried during the barren freeze of Winter. 

Beauty in the offering, in the sweet scent of the incense rising from the altar. 

Beauty in the dying. 

Death is swallowed up in victory.

So I sat outside today in November and the Lord spoke to me there where I was, among the dying leaves, into my own feelings of dying, of changing, of growing older, of letting my own life become lost in the lives of my babies, become a seed buried in the ground--

Though the outward man is perishing, yet the inward man is being renewed day by day... 

And the sweetness of that truth plucked away the bitter-sadness in my heart -

My outward person is perishing - my body is changing, growing older, slowly losing strength and youth--

But my inward person - being renewed day by day as He grows me in conformity to His dear Son - His Son who died -

Arms outstretched in giving life -

His death birthed my life -

And beauty sang for me in the dying.

I hear a robin. Then, in November, its sweet voice laughing through the pain, into the soon-coming dusk. 

The robin sang for me, for all of creation. 

Spring is coming, the great sweet Spring that will swallow up sadness and fear and death forever -

When every tear will be wiped away, and death will be swallowed up forever. 

Sang for me - beautiful in the dying day -

Sang of life eternal to my soul. 



You might find me on these link-ups:

Strangers and Pilgrims on Earth, The Modest Mom, What Joy is Mine, Yes They Are All Ours, Missional Call, A Mama's Story, Mom's the Word, Rich Faith Rising, Time Warp Wife, Cornerstone Confessions, Mom's Morning Coffee, So Much at Home, Raising Homemakers, Hope in Every Season, A Wise Woman Builds Her Home, Woman to Woman Ministries, Whole-Hearted Home, A Soft Gentle Voice, My Daily Walk in His Grace, Messy Marriage, My Teacher's Name is Mama, The Charm of Home, Graced Simplicity, Children Are A Blessing, Mittenstate Sheep and Wool, Imparting Grace, Preparedness Mama, A Look at the Book, Essential Thing Devotions, Count My Blessings, Beauty Observed, Christian Mommy Blogger, Renewed Daily, Soul Survival, Good Morning Mondays