Invitations come all the time for me to go here or there, to do this or that. I often look at these closely for the possibility of what may lie in the invitation. Sometimes I know the invitation is meant for me to be blessed, sometimes I am to attend as a blessing to another and sometimes it’s both.
What I have to pay closer attention to is the underlying invitation for distraction. It is easy to become busy, even in the good things, to such a point they are no longer good for me. When I give more attention to the invitations from men rather than the invitation of the Lord, I become unbalanced quickly.
Psa 95:2 Let us come before His presence with thanksgiving; Let us shout joyfully to Him with psalms.
Love drained from me in ways too many to count. I had grown weary of giving it away and could feel myself counting its costs. It was becoming awfully expensive and I didn’t want to lose everything I had. Pulling back, I gave thoughts to holding onto some of it for myself.
A reminder came to step aside and be alone with the One who fills me with love. Sitting in His presence I wept at my lack. Without judgment He filled me once more with the love I was meant to pour out. He pushed away all my fears, all my doubts. He held me in His mercy. My weariness served His purpose, I was drawn back into the cradle of His arms. Over and over I heard Him whisper to me, “love” and it filled me to overflowing.
An author I was reading made this statement, “Next to each one of us, there is an angel that writes, day and night, the book of our lives.” I took note of this author’s statement for a few reasons. The idea that angels walk with us everywhere we go has never caused me to blink in my beliefs, but sometimes I just forget about them being with me.
A couple weeks ago, a man I had never met before told me when he first saw me, he could see the angels around me. I have since kicked myself because I now want to ask him, “What did they look like?” I don’t for a moment buy into the artwork of angels looking like cherubs. Judging from the reactions of those in biblical times, I’d have to say angels must look quite intimidating to cause such fear in the hearts of those who saw them.
It comforts me to know my angels are with me always. That they are writing me into the Book of Life is something to ponder. What sentence will be written about me today, tomorrow or even next year? It’s enough to change the aspect of what I will do with the rest of my day and indeed the rest of my life.
The Message Rev 20:12 And then I saw all the dead, great and small, standing there–before the Throne! And books were opened. Then another book was opened: the Book of Life. The dead were judged by what was written in the books, by the way they had lived.
He lay upon the floor in front of the entertainment center watching some dvd at low volume. The afternoon was moving quickly into evening and I enjoyed such a quiet moment. A napkin was on the coffee table and I squirreled it away in my hands. Making sure he couldn’t see me, I tore the paper into four squares. Rolling each square back and forth in my palms, I made my weapons. One by one I fired them at his head, spacing them out evenly.
With patience he reached up each time to put the paper bullets back up on the coffee table. Not once did he look in my direction. I grinned, feeling the sweetness of my husband’s love. He allowed me to be childlike whenever I desired.
What’s your superstition?
Is Friday the thirteenth a scary day for you? Are you tossing salt over your shoulder? Has a broken mirror put fear in your heart? Will you drive on if a black cat crosses your path? I have heard these and many other such tales throughout my life but never has anyone been able to validate them for the reasons why.
Stevie Wonder wrote a song that has some sage wisdom….”when you believe in things that you don’t understand, then you suffer”. How many people give power to their superstitions?
Pro 4:7 Wisdom is the principal thing; Therefore get wisdom. And in all your getting, get understanding
“The best fruits are plucked for each by some hand that is not his own.” C.S. Lewis
Waiting to cross the street, I saw her sitting on a bench outside of the coffee place we were headed for. I was semi-listening to my friends, but mostly I was watching this young woman. Her face bore a sadness of life. When the light became green I began walking toward her, not taking my eyes off of her face. She didn’t see me; all she seemed to be looking at was some internal pain I couldn’t discern. Before I entered the coffee place I asked her if she was okay. She gave me a quick answer but then showed me her friend “Julie”, who was a small green ball she held for comfort.
Having our coffee, my friends and I passed this woman again. We initially didn’t have any conversation beyond some friendly words and started to walk back to our car. Within minutes it became apparent all of us we were to go back to this woman and really talk to her.
Mary Lee was eager to share her details with us. She had so much to share I couldn’t keep up with the flow of all she poured out. She was quick to want to show us her identification as well. While she talked I was trying to hear the deeper matters of her heart.
She did not know who her father was. She’d been moved in and out of foster homes. She’d been hurt by some people somewhere in a church. She had been seriously injured in a hit and run accident where the car had dragged her for about fifty feet. Mostly she just felt people had been mean to her and made her feel unwanted and unloved. Mary Lee had a child’s heart to want so much. Her intellect was apparent, but hidden in the demeanor of a simple mind.
Looking at my friend’s faces I could see the same compassion I was feeling myself. We spoke to Mary Lee of hope and love. She mentioned how someone had called her “sunshine” at one point and clearly she was. This precious daughter of God would soon wake up to who she was. She’d have a family who loved her and she’d know the truth of the life she was meant to live.
As we readied to leave, Mary Lee kissed us upon our cheeks. A more thoughtful gift I have rarely received. Her face was no longer wearing the sadness of life but it shone with the hope above all hope. Her smile was “sunshine”.
“I myself am best when least in company” written by Shakespeare centuries ago. He knew the language of love so well his stories continue to be told over and over. This particular quote was how the lovesick poet Orsino preferred to be alone.
I relate to that desire in ways I am unable to verbally communicate. It’s an experiential draw of the heart. It’s not a desire to coddle sadness, but rather a need to know love in a deeper way. Jean-Jacques Rousseau adds “I only love those enjoyments which belong to no one but the first man who knows how to enjoy them.”
I did not seek to be lovesick, it came upon me unexpectedly. I will swim in its wake until delivered by the one I love.
Psalm 91:14 Because he has set his love upon Me, therefore I will deliver him; I will set him on high, because he has known My name.
I start to float away from the earth and wish to go higher still. My thoughts become so eternal it’s hard to focus on the now. Just as I think I will break free from the atmosphere’s gravity, I can feel a tether pull tight under my ribs. Looking down, I see I can undo this tether just by pulling on the simple slipknot of my thoughts. I lay my hand upon the knot and wait.
Eze 43:5 The Spirit lifted me up and brought me into the inner court; and behold, the glory of the LORD filled the temple.
Momentarily I wanted to fall back on comfortable territory and talk to those I knew better but instead, I asked specific questions of my new friend. His tale quickly left my heart in tatters. Holding tears in check as best I could, I felt awe for this man I had only met hours before.
I tried not to look away. Letting someone stare deep into my eyes always felt like they were looking directly into my soul. This moment was no different. Joey wore glasses but his gray eyes never left mine and he’d make gestures to point his hands toward me in excitement as he’d listen for new things to share.
When his tongue was released to speak, I was stunned. He began to share the hopes of those secret things no one but my Father knew. Encouragement flooded the chambers of my heart. His words were indeed honey to my senses.
Psa 119:103 How sweet are Your words to my taste, Sweeter than honey to my mouth!