Showing posts with label gifts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gifts. Show all posts
Sunday, January 10, 2010
My Birthday
I lied. I admit it. And it wasn't even a "sort of lie". This was a big fat "I know I'm lying" lie.
My family asked what I wanted for my birthday, and I told them I really didnt' know. But I did. I not only knew what I wanted, I wanted it a lot. However, I couldn't tell them that, so I lied.
However, now, I have to tell you the whole truth about it because--no lie--it was amazing.
The week after Christmas I turned 41. Note the candles. Four blue and one green. Great idea by the Man of my Dreams. Kept him from going through all the matches we owned, and the fire department didn't have to come check out the glow over the horizon, and I didn't have to hyperventilate trying to blow them all out.
In the past my birthday hasn't been a big deal. It comes a week after Christmas and right after New Year's. Folks are still trying to convince themselves to finish off the turkey leftovers and wondering why they stayed up to watch that crazy ball in New York. Really, it has just never been that important.
Until this year.
And that is what makes it so very important.
When I was growing up, there was a person of significance in my life that told me multiple times over several years that they* wished I had never born, that their life would be easier without me, and in fact, the world would be a better place if I weren’t in it.
I now know statements such as that are called “word curses” because they steal, kill, and destroy. They steal identities, kill dream, and destroy destinies. They are lies from the pit of hell, and they can only be overcome with the Truth of God. Thankfully, over the years, I have come to know the Truth.
The Truth is I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Before the beginning of time, the Lord already had plans for me. His plans for me are always good, and they entail hope and a future. He plans to do me good and not harm. I am here, not by some cosmic freak accident, but because the God of the universe deemed it so, because He has things planned for me to do. According to His Word, all He made is good, and as one of His creations, I am good. He delights over me with singing. His love for me is beyond my wildest dreams, and His greatest desire is unity with me.
I know this. This is the Truth.
And yet, when the bravado drops, honestly digs deep, and I answer the question of what I really want, I sheepishly confess I want to know the world is better because I’m here. I want to know I am sharing the important part of me, the God part of me, the only part of me that matters. I want to know my being here makes a difference because of the difference He has made in me. It isn’t enough to simply take up space and do no harm. I want to know whatever realm I enter is better when I leave than it was when I arrived. I want to know people’s lives are richer because He put me in them…because He is in mine.
The fact is I have a pretty ordinary life. I am a wife and mom, which I love. I don’t take big trips. I don’t do glamorous things. When I write the family Christmas letter, I have a hard time filling up a paragraph about my life. When people ask what I’ve been doing, there really isn’t much to say. As I said, a pretty ordinary life. Can an ordinary life really mean that much? I wanted to know.
How does one ask for such a gift?
Does one dare? Is that shallow? Is it immature? Is it…dumb? Unsure, I lied and told my family I didn’t really want anything in particular, and I told God my heart.
A few months ago, my friend Rhonda Harkin told me the Lord always gives her a gift on her biological birthday and her spiritual birthday. I had been asking for a promise for the year to come for several years, but I had not asked for a birthday present…until this year.
I try to never put parameters on God’s gifts. I miss things when I do that. Sometimes I’m so busy looking for one thing that I don’t see the wonderful gift He set before me. This year, I was brave in that I told Him I wanted a Word, the kind of Word that rips off lies that dangles over my life and affects me in ways I don’t always realize. I wanted the kind of Word that I could go back for the rest of my life and say, “This is what God said.” I wanted a Word declaring destiny, something that screamed, “This is how amazing I declare my daughter to be,” and I wanted to not miss it.
But, knowing God is infinitely more wise and amazing than I can imagine, I left it up to Him.
But…in my heart of hearts, I thought, “Wouldn’t it be utterly cool to get a mailbox full of cards from people telling me I make a difference to them and their lives are better because of me?” Really, though, how likely was that to happen?
On the morning of my birthday, I got up before the rest of the house and enjoyed my quiet time. I waited to see if God had anything big to say. Nothing. And yet, I felt He had a smug smile and a sense of anticipation, like He had something planned and was just waiting to yell, “Surprise!”
When my family got up, they made me breakfast, gave me pens and books. The perfect gifts for me. But what struck me were the cards.
Each one had given me a card, and in each card were words that said, “Mom, my life is amazing because you are in it.” “My wife, my world is better because of you.” “Mom, you are so important to me.”
Words I had requested in secret lay before me. I read them allowed, letting them soak the atmosphere, letting them soak my heart. The Lord had heard my heart’s request, and He had given me these gifts. I sat amazed.
The Man of my Dreams let me know that there was another gift, but it was coming in the mail, so I had to wait. I didn’t care. I had what I had asked for. It hadn’t been the mailbox full of cards, but it had been cards full of the exact words I had said I wanted to hear. And I was so thankful.
A few hours later, I sat in the same chair with another box in my hands. Although it was brightly wrapped, it was obviously a shirt box. However, when I shook it, it didn’t sound like clothes. In fact, I had no idea what it could be.
I carefully pulled the tape, unwrapped the box, and folded the paper. Then I lifted the top.
My breath caught.
The box was filled with envelopes. In each envelope was a birthday card.
At first I looked at each envelope, the writing, the return address. Friends for decades and friends for only a few months. Cards from all over the United States.
A box full of them.
I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Back in November, I borrowed your computer and got email addresses from your sent items list. I emailed everyone, told them about your birthday, and asked them to send a card. I had them send it to (our neighbor’s) so you wouldn’t know. I feel bad because it really isn’t anything I got you, but I hope you like it.”
How does one say, “It is perfect,” and not sound cliché?
But it was. It was the exact thing I wanted, the thing I had no words…or courage…to ask for. There it sat in my hands.
For a full half hour or more, I opened envelope after envelope. Again, I saw my words lying before me. “My life is richer because you are in it…You have made such a difference to me…The world is a better place because you are here.”
There were a variety of material gifts tucked in as well, and I liked them, but they weren’t the real gift.
A few hours later, a friend stood at the door. She held out a card and a gift, but I knew. She was the gift. Her time. Her thoughtfulness. Her sharing my day. Everything she said by what she did. That was the gift.
That night I sat in the quiet of my study with a box of cards in front of me. The perfect gift. And yet, I knew that wasn’t the real gift. The real gift was the people who had filled the box, the ones who fill my heart.
Pretty amazing, isn’t it?
Wondering about the gift the Lord gave me or what He said? He said I’m so important that even before I knew what I really wanted, He was already putting it together. In fact, before Rhonda had told me about her birthday gifts, He was already working on mine.
I think the greatest gift He gives me, other than salvation, is His ongoing expression of love. I am in awe of His intimate observations of me, not as an omniscient God, but as a devoted friend and Lover. I am forever amazed at the details He makes into important things...the ways He makes me important.
He overwhelms me.
I am left in awe of how important my ordinary life is to such an extraordinary God. And knowing that makes all the difference...in everybody's life.
That's the Truth.
Copyright Jerri Phillips 2010
(For all those who were part of this amazing gift, please know you have made a difference in my life, and I am so very thankful for each of you. The cards, goodies, and kind words are so deeply appreciated, but YOU are the real gift. I love you.)
*Please note, I do know I am talking about one person and am aware that “they” is a plural pronoun. I have chosen to be gender unspecific on purpose.
My family asked what I wanted for my birthday, and I told them I really didnt' know. But I did. I not only knew what I wanted, I wanted it a lot. However, I couldn't tell them that, so I lied.
However, now, I have to tell you the whole truth about it because--no lie--it was amazing.
The week after Christmas I turned 41. Note the candles. Four blue and one green. Great idea by the Man of my Dreams. Kept him from going through all the matches we owned, and the fire department didn't have to come check out the glow over the horizon, and I didn't have to hyperventilate trying to blow them all out.
In the past my birthday hasn't been a big deal. It comes a week after Christmas and right after New Year's. Folks are still trying to convince themselves to finish off the turkey leftovers and wondering why they stayed up to watch that crazy ball in New York. Really, it has just never been that important.
Until this year.
And that is what makes it so very important.
When I was growing up, there was a person of significance in my life that told me multiple times over several years that they* wished I had never born, that their life would be easier without me, and in fact, the world would be a better place if I weren’t in it.
I now know statements such as that are called “word curses” because they steal, kill, and destroy. They steal identities, kill dream, and destroy destinies. They are lies from the pit of hell, and they can only be overcome with the Truth of God. Thankfully, over the years, I have come to know the Truth.
The Truth is I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Before the beginning of time, the Lord already had plans for me. His plans for me are always good, and they entail hope and a future. He plans to do me good and not harm. I am here, not by some cosmic freak accident, but because the God of the universe deemed it so, because He has things planned for me to do. According to His Word, all He made is good, and as one of His creations, I am good. He delights over me with singing. His love for me is beyond my wildest dreams, and His greatest desire is unity with me.
I know this. This is the Truth.
And yet, when the bravado drops, honestly digs deep, and I answer the question of what I really want, I sheepishly confess I want to know the world is better because I’m here. I want to know I am sharing the important part of me, the God part of me, the only part of me that matters. I want to know my being here makes a difference because of the difference He has made in me. It isn’t enough to simply take up space and do no harm. I want to know whatever realm I enter is better when I leave than it was when I arrived. I want to know people’s lives are richer because He put me in them…because He is in mine.
The fact is I have a pretty ordinary life. I am a wife and mom, which I love. I don’t take big trips. I don’t do glamorous things. When I write the family Christmas letter, I have a hard time filling up a paragraph about my life. When people ask what I’ve been doing, there really isn’t much to say. As I said, a pretty ordinary life. Can an ordinary life really mean that much? I wanted to know.
How does one ask for such a gift?
Does one dare? Is that shallow? Is it immature? Is it…dumb? Unsure, I lied and told my family I didn’t really want anything in particular, and I told God my heart.
A few months ago, my friend Rhonda Harkin told me the Lord always gives her a gift on her biological birthday and her spiritual birthday. I had been asking for a promise for the year to come for several years, but I had not asked for a birthday present…until this year.
I try to never put parameters on God’s gifts. I miss things when I do that. Sometimes I’m so busy looking for one thing that I don’t see the wonderful gift He set before me. This year, I was brave in that I told Him I wanted a Word, the kind of Word that rips off lies that dangles over my life and affects me in ways I don’t always realize. I wanted the kind of Word that I could go back for the rest of my life and say, “This is what God said.” I wanted a Word declaring destiny, something that screamed, “This is how amazing I declare my daughter to be,” and I wanted to not miss it.
But, knowing God is infinitely more wise and amazing than I can imagine, I left it up to Him.
But…in my heart of hearts, I thought, “Wouldn’t it be utterly cool to get a mailbox full of cards from people telling me I make a difference to them and their lives are better because of me?” Really, though, how likely was that to happen?
On the morning of my birthday, I got up before the rest of the house and enjoyed my quiet time. I waited to see if God had anything big to say. Nothing. And yet, I felt He had a smug smile and a sense of anticipation, like He had something planned and was just waiting to yell, “Surprise!”
When my family got up, they made me breakfast, gave me pens and books. The perfect gifts for me. But what struck me were the cards.
Each one had given me a card, and in each card were words that said, “Mom, my life is amazing because you are in it.” “My wife, my world is better because of you.” “Mom, you are so important to me.”
Words I had requested in secret lay before me. I read them allowed, letting them soak the atmosphere, letting them soak my heart. The Lord had heard my heart’s request, and He had given me these gifts. I sat amazed.
The Man of my Dreams let me know that there was another gift, but it was coming in the mail, so I had to wait. I didn’t care. I had what I had asked for. It hadn’t been the mailbox full of cards, but it had been cards full of the exact words I had said I wanted to hear. And I was so thankful.
A few hours later, I sat in the same chair with another box in my hands. Although it was brightly wrapped, it was obviously a shirt box. However, when I shook it, it didn’t sound like clothes. In fact, I had no idea what it could be.
I carefully pulled the tape, unwrapped the box, and folded the paper. Then I lifted the top.
My breath caught.
The box was filled with envelopes. In each envelope was a birthday card.
At first I looked at each envelope, the writing, the return address. Friends for decades and friends for only a few months. Cards from all over the United States.
A box full of them.
I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Back in November, I borrowed your computer and got email addresses from your sent items list. I emailed everyone, told them about your birthday, and asked them to send a card. I had them send it to (our neighbor’s) so you wouldn’t know. I feel bad because it really isn’t anything I got you, but I hope you like it.”
How does one say, “It is perfect,” and not sound cliché?
But it was. It was the exact thing I wanted, the thing I had no words…or courage…to ask for. There it sat in my hands.
For a full half hour or more, I opened envelope after envelope. Again, I saw my words lying before me. “My life is richer because you are in it…You have made such a difference to me…The world is a better place because you are here.”
There were a variety of material gifts tucked in as well, and I liked them, but they weren’t the real gift.
A few hours later, a friend stood at the door. She held out a card and a gift, but I knew. She was the gift. Her time. Her thoughtfulness. Her sharing my day. Everything she said by what she did. That was the gift.
That night I sat in the quiet of my study with a box of cards in front of me. The perfect gift. And yet, I knew that wasn’t the real gift. The real gift was the people who had filled the box, the ones who fill my heart.
Pretty amazing, isn’t it?
Wondering about the gift the Lord gave me or what He said? He said I’m so important that even before I knew what I really wanted, He was already putting it together. In fact, before Rhonda had told me about her birthday gifts, He was already working on mine.
I think the greatest gift He gives me, other than salvation, is His ongoing expression of love. I am in awe of His intimate observations of me, not as an omniscient God, but as a devoted friend and Lover. I am forever amazed at the details He makes into important things...the ways He makes me important.
He overwhelms me.
I am left in awe of how important my ordinary life is to such an extraordinary God. And knowing that makes all the difference...in everybody's life.
That's the Truth.
Copyright Jerri Phillips 2010
(For all those who were part of this amazing gift, please know you have made a difference in my life, and I am so very thankful for each of you. The cards, goodies, and kind words are so deeply appreciated, but YOU are the real gift. I love you.)
*Please note, I do know I am talking about one person and am aware that “they” is a plural pronoun. I have chosen to be gender unspecific on purpose.
Friday, December 25, 2009
Divine Divinity
My grandma has been gone for over six years now. Years before that, her mind abandoned her. For the most part, she has been gone to me for over fifteen years now. For some reason, this Christmas finds me missing her immensely.
There are two things I remember with great fondness when I think of my grandma: gardening and divinity. Gardening as in flowers and vegetables. Divinity as in the candy.
I used to work with my grandma in the garden a lot. I helped her plant the garden, pick the veggies, and can the harvest. My definition of ambrosia? Grandma's black eyed peas, canned in a jar, hot and poured over a slice of bread. Food does not get much better than that.
I didn't help Grandma cook much. I never fried chicken with her or made cream gravy, but I did wear my arm out a few times using her old whisk to make meringue for her pies. And on a few special occasions, we made divinity.
I have not had divinity since the last time we made it together over two decades ago...until today.
For reasons I do not know, I needed divinity this Christmas, so I pulled out a recipe a friend sent me. Mary and I made cookies together a few years ago, and I mentioned my grandma and her divinity. Mary sent me a copy of her divinity recipe, and I've kept it like a treasure waiting to be enjoyed.
I went to the store and bought the ingredients, all the while wondering if I could do this on my own. All the while missing my grandma, wishing for one more Christmas to make this candy with her.
Today I took time to deliver some yummies and clean the house, and when everything was done, I pulled out my recipe, looked at Mary's writing, and saw my grandma's face. I could do this, but did I want to? Did I really want to do this by myself? I tucked the recipe back into my cookbook and did other things.
When the doorbell rang, I was surprised. When I opened the door, our neighbor stood with a container in her hands. "Mom made this for your family. It's homemade candies."
The box was filled with a variety goodies. I wasn't sure what they all were, but on top was unmistakable treasure, the divine kind that only God can deliver, the kind that comes in the form of white fluffy divinity.
People ask me how I hear God speak, how He communicates His love for me. Sometimes He speaks in a voice I've come to know. Sometimes He speaks through His written Word. And sometimes, like today, He does it with divine divinity.
Copyright 2009 Jerri Phillips
There are two things I remember with great fondness when I think of my grandma: gardening and divinity. Gardening as in flowers and vegetables. Divinity as in the candy.
I used to work with my grandma in the garden a lot. I helped her plant the garden, pick the veggies, and can the harvest. My definition of ambrosia? Grandma's black eyed peas, canned in a jar, hot and poured over a slice of bread. Food does not get much better than that.
I didn't help Grandma cook much. I never fried chicken with her or made cream gravy, but I did wear my arm out a few times using her old whisk to make meringue for her pies. And on a few special occasions, we made divinity.
I have not had divinity since the last time we made it together over two decades ago...until today.
For reasons I do not know, I needed divinity this Christmas, so I pulled out a recipe a friend sent me. Mary and I made cookies together a few years ago, and I mentioned my grandma and her divinity. Mary sent me a copy of her divinity recipe, and I've kept it like a treasure waiting to be enjoyed.
I went to the store and bought the ingredients, all the while wondering if I could do this on my own. All the while missing my grandma, wishing for one more Christmas to make this candy with her.
Today I took time to deliver some yummies and clean the house, and when everything was done, I pulled out my recipe, looked at Mary's writing, and saw my grandma's face. I could do this, but did I want to? Did I really want to do this by myself? I tucked the recipe back into my cookbook and did other things.
When the doorbell rang, I was surprised. When I opened the door, our neighbor stood with a container in her hands. "Mom made this for your family. It's homemade candies."
The box was filled with a variety goodies. I wasn't sure what they all were, but on top was unmistakable treasure, the divine kind that only God can deliver, the kind that comes in the form of white fluffy divinity.
People ask me how I hear God speak, how He communicates His love for me. Sometimes He speaks in a voice I've come to know. Sometimes He speaks through His written Word. And sometimes, like today, He does it with divine divinity.
Copyright 2009 Jerri Phillips
The Gifts of Jesus
If I could give you all a gift today, I would give you Christ, not as you probably know Him, but as the passionate pursuer of you, His Beloved.
I would give you Christ the Healer who desires to heal your body, mind, and spirit, who isn't afraid of your hurts or the anger and hopelessness that may go with them.
I would give you a Counselor who can help you move beyond all boundaries and prisons, preconceived ideas, small-minded lies spoken by small-minded and small-faithed people, and fear so you can live in the wildness of who He is, into the wildness of who you were created to be in Him.
I would give you the Savior who can take everything you've ever done and rip its weight from you and let you fly in Him.
I would give you the Friend who is too good to be true, the one that never leaves, the one that always understands, the one who is never afraid of being real, and who only speaks the Truth--loving, uplifting, life-giving. The one who never has alterior motives, but always leads you back where you need to go, to the real you, to the real God.
I would give you the Jesus that values you more than you value yourself, the one that knows how special you really are, the one who embraces your strengths...and weaknesses, and sees unfathomable potential in you.
I would give you the Jesus that right now is calling your name with arms open wide, hodling out all of these gifts and more, and I would give you the courage to believe everything He promises you.
In fact, I offer Him to you now.
If you have never accepted Jesus as your Savior or if there is some other aspect of Him I have described that you do not know, His gifts are only a prayer away. He is no respecter of persons, and He never turns away someone who seeks Him. All you need do is ask.
Salvation is not complicated. To receive Jesus as your Savior, you need to confess that you are a sinner, that you believe He died to save you from those sins, and that you want Him to forgive you for them. Ask Him to be all He wants to be in your life. He wants to be all I've listed and more.
If you are saved but don't know Jesus as a Counselor, Healer, Lover, Friend, or a myriad of other facets of His identity, ask Him to reveal Himself to you as such. Ask Him to open your eyes to see Him that way. If you are like me, you may need to ask Him to free you from beliefs the prevent you from seeing Him in all His fullness. He will. He is excited to share Himself with you. I have found we underestimate His passion for us far more than we overstate it.
And maybe you need the gift of seeing yourself as He sees you. If so, that is available for the asking, too. Again, you may need to ask for the courage to believe what He says and to embrace it so you can live in the Truth of you. He will give you that gift as well.
If you have questions or have accepted Jesus as your Savior and want more information, please contact me via my profile. You'll find my email there, or post a comment here. Nothing shows up without my approval, so if you want to comment with your contact information but not have it public, just let me know.
Merry Christmas, dear ones! May you find the greatest gifts of all in the only One who can give you everything you need!
I would give you Christ the Healer who desires to heal your body, mind, and spirit, who isn't afraid of your hurts or the anger and hopelessness that may go with them.
I would give you a Counselor who can help you move beyond all boundaries and prisons, preconceived ideas, small-minded lies spoken by small-minded and small-faithed people, and fear so you can live in the wildness of who He is, into the wildness of who you were created to be in Him.
I would give you the Savior who can take everything you've ever done and rip its weight from you and let you fly in Him.
I would give you the Friend who is too good to be true, the one that never leaves, the one that always understands, the one who is never afraid of being real, and who only speaks the Truth--loving, uplifting, life-giving. The one who never has alterior motives, but always leads you back where you need to go, to the real you, to the real God.
I would give you the Jesus that values you more than you value yourself, the one that knows how special you really are, the one who embraces your strengths...and weaknesses, and sees unfathomable potential in you.
I would give you the Jesus that right now is calling your name with arms open wide, hodling out all of these gifts and more, and I would give you the courage to believe everything He promises you.
In fact, I offer Him to you now.
If you have never accepted Jesus as your Savior or if there is some other aspect of Him I have described that you do not know, His gifts are only a prayer away. He is no respecter of persons, and He never turns away someone who seeks Him. All you need do is ask.
Salvation is not complicated. To receive Jesus as your Savior, you need to confess that you are a sinner, that you believe He died to save you from those sins, and that you want Him to forgive you for them. Ask Him to be all He wants to be in your life. He wants to be all I've listed and more.
If you are saved but don't know Jesus as a Counselor, Healer, Lover, Friend, or a myriad of other facets of His identity, ask Him to reveal Himself to you as such. Ask Him to open your eyes to see Him that way. If you are like me, you may need to ask Him to free you from beliefs the prevent you from seeing Him in all His fullness. He will. He is excited to share Himself with you. I have found we underestimate His passion for us far more than we overstate it.
And maybe you need the gift of seeing yourself as He sees you. If so, that is available for the asking, too. Again, you may need to ask for the courage to believe what He says and to embrace it so you can live in the Truth of you. He will give you that gift as well.
If you have questions or have accepted Jesus as your Savior and want more information, please contact me via my profile. You'll find my email there, or post a comment here. Nothing shows up without my approval, so if you want to comment with your contact information but not have it public, just let me know.
Merry Christmas, dear ones! May you find the greatest gifts of all in the only One who can give you everything you need!
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Lovely Gifts
This morning I walked through my home in the early morning light and found myself wrapped in the joy of loving my life.
The fact is, I love my life.
I love the race car track spread out in the sunroom floor.
I love Anna's "I'm reading that" books liking here and there. Four in all right now.
I love the sleeping bags rolled up nicely and sitting misplaced in my bedroom floor, knowing on any given night, for reasons I may never know, my youngest will wander in, unroll one, and find peaceful rest sleeping on it on my side of the bed.
I love Robert's stained and wrinkled memory verse paper lying crinkled on the table beside the recliner where we learn the scriptures together.
I love pens, pencils, and crayons waiting for their next creative adventure. I wonder if they ever considered waiting in the tubs with the rest of the pens, pencils, and crayons. But then, what is the fun in being like everyone else, right?
I love Robert's waking up really early to see Rob off to work and then falling asleep in my lap in the recliner, where I leave him while I type in a few words of thought or sit a bit at Jesus' feet. Sometimes I just stay in the reclner, peaceful nine-year old spread across me, in wonder of how much his act of love reveals God's love for me.
I love the sound of our Millie-Mix snoring on the couch close to us. An abandoned dog tagged for destruction, rescued, loved, restored. In so many ways, I can identify.
I love the unmade bed where Rob and I spent a few moments this morning whispering in the dark, warm and content--and then the alarm went off....again.
I love the smile of remembering...
I love Bibles stacked in different parts of the house. Different versions. Different study notes. All used at different times.
I love the huge Christmas tree standing in the living room with its decades of ornaments...each one a piece of our history, a symbol of what has made our present...and the stories...the smiles...the sneaky tears that come with memories of those rejoicing in the wonder of Christmas every day...at Home.
I love the sun spilling through the windows, the creative remodel design bringing sunlight where darkness used to be.
I love coats waiting to keep us warm, mittens to protect precious hands, and scarves...a gift from Gran.
This morning I even love the two piles of laundry sitting in the living room waiting to be folded...and now ironed.
I love the Kleenex boxes, not put in away in tidy cubbies, but sitting out ready to render aid during this season of sniffly noses and too common sneezes.
Funny how things on a driven day--the day when I'm drowning in my to do list or the day when I'm concerned not so much about the people who live in this house but about what those outside think of it--funny how on those days, a book on a table instead of a shelf, a toy in the floor and not in a bedroom, or a child who is more concerned with how to love than how things look can be such nerve fraying burdens. However, there are times when wisdom whispers louder than the cacophony of life's uninterested demands, and I stop and ask, "Lord, what do you love?" When I listen closely, I find He loves the same things I do.
In that moment, I love my life all over again.
Copyright Jerri Phillips 2009
The fact is, I love my life.
I love the race car track spread out in the sunroom floor.
I love Anna's "I'm reading that" books liking here and there. Four in all right now.
I love the sleeping bags rolled up nicely and sitting misplaced in my bedroom floor, knowing on any given night, for reasons I may never know, my youngest will wander in, unroll one, and find peaceful rest sleeping on it on my side of the bed.
I love Robert's stained and wrinkled memory verse paper lying crinkled on the table beside the recliner where we learn the scriptures together.
I love pens, pencils, and crayons waiting for their next creative adventure. I wonder if they ever considered waiting in the tubs with the rest of the pens, pencils, and crayons. But then, what is the fun in being like everyone else, right?
I love Robert's waking up really early to see Rob off to work and then falling asleep in my lap in the recliner, where I leave him while I type in a few words of thought or sit a bit at Jesus' feet. Sometimes I just stay in the reclner, peaceful nine-year old spread across me, in wonder of how much his act of love reveals God's love for me.
I love the sound of our Millie-Mix snoring on the couch close to us. An abandoned dog tagged for destruction, rescued, loved, restored. In so many ways, I can identify.
I love the unmade bed where Rob and I spent a few moments this morning whispering in the dark, warm and content--and then the alarm went off....again.
I love the smile of remembering...
I love Bibles stacked in different parts of the house. Different versions. Different study notes. All used at different times.
I love the huge Christmas tree standing in the living room with its decades of ornaments...each one a piece of our history, a symbol of what has made our present...and the stories...the smiles...the sneaky tears that come with memories of those rejoicing in the wonder of Christmas every day...at Home.
I love the sun spilling through the windows, the creative remodel design bringing sunlight where darkness used to be.
I love coats waiting to keep us warm, mittens to protect precious hands, and scarves...a gift from Gran.
This morning I even love the two piles of laundry sitting in the living room waiting to be folded...and now ironed.
I love the Kleenex boxes, not put in away in tidy cubbies, but sitting out ready to render aid during this season of sniffly noses and too common sneezes.
Funny how things on a driven day--the day when I'm drowning in my to do list or the day when I'm concerned not so much about the people who live in this house but about what those outside think of it--funny how on those days, a book on a table instead of a shelf, a toy in the floor and not in a bedroom, or a child who is more concerned with how to love than how things look can be such nerve fraying burdens. However, there are times when wisdom whispers louder than the cacophony of life's uninterested demands, and I stop and ask, "Lord, what do you love?" When I listen closely, I find He loves the same things I do.
In that moment, I love my life all over again.
Copyright Jerri Phillips 2009
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Things I Learned from My First Bible
I was going to put this in the post above, but after I had it typed in, I realized it was pretty long in and of itself, and the other post was long, so I decided to break them up. I think this can stand alone.
I think I've told y'all before about my first "real" Bible. My mom and dad gave it to me when I was in early elementary school. I loved that Bible. I was going to save the world with that Bible.
You have to get this picture.
My grandparents had the perfect symmetrical yard with the sidewalk running right down the middle. On one end was the gate, and the other was the front steps.
Well, my friends, this was the perfect church. Three or four rows of two chairs on both sides, and folks could walk right in the back door (gate) and have a seat to see me on the platform from whence I preached (the porch). One day I was out there, Bible in handk, pouring out scripture from the Word, snatching souls from the pit of eternal fire when my grandma called me in for lunch. Back then, I didn't know the importance of breaking bread, but I knew the importance of not making Grandma wait.
As it turned out, it was the Last Supper because that was the last time I saw my Bible intact.
When I returned to the pulpit, tears filled my eyes. There on the floor--ground--were not sinners weeping in repentence, but my Bible in bits and pieces and partially in my grandparents' dog's mouth.
I was crushed. I picked up every piece I could find. I hoped Momma had enough tape to put it back together, but there were a lot of pieces.
That night, the prognosis was given: the Bible was beyond repair. I sobbed some more.
My parents were not well off. While we never went hungry, surprise expenses often sent the grocery budget into a large pot of beans for several days. Bibles were not cheap, not bound ones with the silver edge on the pages. Still, my daddy said he'd get another one for me. He said he figured if someone was going to lose a Bible, the best way to lose it was preaching the gospel.
My mom put the remains of my Bible into a paper bag coffin, curled the top down tight, and taped it closed. She entombed it in the top of my closet close enough to the front of the shelf where I could see the edge and know it was there but far enough back so it wasn't the forefront of my thoughts.
It was the perfect burial.
The next day my dad walked in the door with a new Bible. Bound. Silver edges on the pages. Even had my name on it.I have no idea where he got it or how he paid for it. I only know to me, it was priceless.
I tell you this for two reasons:
First, I still see my momma putting that little paper bag coffin on the shelf of my closet. I remember the feeling of value and love knowing she understood the depth of my loss.
Second, never underestimate the power of sowing into a child's dream. My daddy could have rebuked me for being careless. Instead, he blessed me for being passionate.
May God grant us the wisdom to bless others' dreams and keep them alive.
I think I've told y'all before about my first "real" Bible. My mom and dad gave it to me when I was in early elementary school. I loved that Bible. I was going to save the world with that Bible.
You have to get this picture.
My grandparents had the perfect symmetrical yard with the sidewalk running right down the middle. On one end was the gate, and the other was the front steps.
Well, my friends, this was the perfect church. Three or four rows of two chairs on both sides, and folks could walk right in the back door (gate) and have a seat to see me on the platform from whence I preached (the porch). One day I was out there, Bible in handk, pouring out scripture from the Word, snatching souls from the pit of eternal fire when my grandma called me in for lunch. Back then, I didn't know the importance of breaking bread, but I knew the importance of not making Grandma wait.
As it turned out, it was the Last Supper because that was the last time I saw my Bible intact.
When I returned to the pulpit, tears filled my eyes. There on the floor--ground--were not sinners weeping in repentence, but my Bible in bits and pieces and partially in my grandparents' dog's mouth.
I was crushed. I picked up every piece I could find. I hoped Momma had enough tape to put it back together, but there were a lot of pieces.
That night, the prognosis was given: the Bible was beyond repair. I sobbed some more.
My parents were not well off. While we never went hungry, surprise expenses often sent the grocery budget into a large pot of beans for several days. Bibles were not cheap, not bound ones with the silver edge on the pages. Still, my daddy said he'd get another one for me. He said he figured if someone was going to lose a Bible, the best way to lose it was preaching the gospel.
My mom put the remains of my Bible into a paper bag coffin, curled the top down tight, and taped it closed. She entombed it in the top of my closet close enough to the front of the shelf where I could see the edge and know it was there but far enough back so it wasn't the forefront of my thoughts.
It was the perfect burial.
The next day my dad walked in the door with a new Bible. Bound. Silver edges on the pages. Even had my name on it.I have no idea where he got it or how he paid for it. I only know to me, it was priceless.
I tell you this for two reasons:
First, I still see my momma putting that little paper bag coffin on the shelf of my closet. I remember the feeling of value and love knowing she understood the depth of my loss.
Second, never underestimate the power of sowing into a child's dream. My daddy could have rebuked me for being careless. Instead, he blessed me for being passionate.
May God grant us the wisdom to bless others' dreams and keep them alive.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Scavenger Hunt on Bold and Free
This post will remain at the top of the page until the scavenger hunt is over on March 30th. For recent posts, please scroll down.
The Rules are:
- Visit each blog (on Jan's site) and hunt for answers to their questions.
- Write down the answers and email to the address in my profile.
- Leave a comment on this post.Those who have followed directions and correctly answered all the questions will be entered into the drawing for 1st and 2nd prize. As you can see, we have many great prizes! Look at all the Starbucks Gift Cards!Participating blog’s are not eligible to win prizes but are free to play.
I am not familiar with all of the participants, but I am excited to get to know them. The ones I do know are excellent! You will be blessed!
The questions I submitted are actually for the Ponderings from the Path site, so if you are new and found yourself here, you need to follow the link over there to play the game, but come back here and visit for updated posts.
So, jaunt on over to Jan's, get blessed by some great writers, and pick up some great gifts.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Relevant
">Subscribe To
Posts
All Comments