IT IS GOOD TO BE IN THE HOUSE OF THE LORD

It is so, so good to be in the house of the Lord this morning.

Gratitude as I drove to church this morning:

• I am thankful for my new job. I have wonderful coworkers, I enjoy the work, and the schedule is a huge improvement.
• I have learned so much over the past 5-6 years: completed a difficult college degree; became comfortable with a plethora of practical nursing skills (still so many to learn); bought a car and car insurance for the first time ever in my life; learned how to take care of grown-up paperwork like my advanced directive, durable power of attorney, and will; started saving for retirement (a little late to the game at age 60, but at least it's a start).
• I have been privileged to work with and to care for some of the most beautiful people in the world; have fallen in love way too fast and grieved deeply.

Concerns as I drove to church this morning:

• Will I be provided for and taken care of when I am no longer able to work? Will I have a place to live when I am old?
• When I can no longer care for myself and must depend on others for my care, will I be a blessing or a burden?
• Will family still be present and active in my life when I get old, or will I be tucked away in a corner somewhere and forgotten?
• Is there anybody besides me thinking about these things today on my behalf for the future?

Most Sunday mornings, I drop Mom off at Sunday school class, then head to a cozy parlor for 45-minutes of writing time. This Sunday, however, the parlor is locked. I am sitting in the foyer outside the sanctuary to write.

I settled onto a hard bench with my Bible, laptop, and tea, a chaotic turmoil of thoughts and concerns roiling inside my head.

It's a bit noisy here in the foyer: the music team is going over songs for morning worship, and heavy traffic roars by outside the front door.

Lord, are you here? Can you hear me above the music, the traffic, the noisy thoughts inside my head?

Eyes closed, deep inhale. Hold it. Slow exhale.

Lord, I am anxious - again - about the future. What's next?

Breathe in, breathe out.

And then, rolling through the sanctuary doors, Adam's sweet voice:

"Thro' many dangers, toils and snares, I have already come; 'tis grace has brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home.

"The Lord has promised good to me, his Word my hope secures; he will my shield and portion be, as long as life endures.

"And when this flesh and heart shall fail, and  mortal life shall cease, I shall possess within the veil a life of joy and peace."

Yes, He hears even above the noise, and He calms my fears.

* * * * *

I was glad when they said to me, "Let us go to the house of the LORD!" Psalm 122:1

One thing have I asked of the LORD, that will I seek after: that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD and to meditate in his temple. Psalm 27:4

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD forever. Psalm 23:6

NOW I LAY ME DOWN TO SLEEP

NOW I LAY ME DOWN TO SLEEP

-originally posted September 25, 2015

As I am prone to do at this 50-something, menopausal stage of my life, I awoke in the wee hours of the morning one day this week and simply could not go back to sleep. This happens so frequently now that I have made wee-morning my regular time to pray for my children and for my church family. This particular morning, however, my mind turned to other things...

For some reason, as I lay awake in the darkness, memories of other times when I had lain awake in bed, praying, came to mind. Memories I hadn't visited in ages.

I recalled one of my most comforting childhood memories:  that of being tucked into bed at night by my dad or my mom.

Tired at the end of a long day of work or play, full from a good dinner and freshly bathed, I would climb into bed and burrow under the blankets. Dad would flip off the lights and come sit on the end of the bed, smelling deliciously of coffee and cigarette smoke and perhaps cowness or tractor exhaust or, if he had eaten lunch at Olympia that day, of garlic. We would talk a little bit, and then he would tell me it was time to say my bedtime prayers.

"Now I lay me down to sleep..."

I would pray, and then sometimes he would pray, too. That very simple children's prayer worked like a magic incantation, ushering me from wakefulness to the drowsy shadowland of almost-asleep.

"Amen."

A goodnight kiss, and then..."'Night, 'night. Sleep tight. Sweet dreams," as Daddy left the room.

I can't think of anything more comforting than slipping off to sleep with my last conscious thought being that my Father was right there with me.

* * *

And another memory came to mind...

I was a teenager, and my bed at the time was a fold-out couch in the dining room - the dining room, because it was a room the family didn't use every day and therefore had less traffic. (I am not sure, but I think maybe my regular room and bed had been given to a relative or guest who staying with us for an extended period.) At any rate, I often read my Bible in bed at the end of the day and would leave it on the arm of the couch when I turned out the lights.

Mom and Dad no longer came to tuck me in and say bedtime prayers - I was too big for that - but my heavenly Father still met with me to talk and pray before ushering me off to sleep. Sometimes, I would wake up in the middle of the night, worried about an upcoming test at school or frightened by a bad dream, and I would feel around in the dark until I found my Bible. Pulling it close to me in bed, I would be comforted knowing that Yes, God was still close, still keeping watch.

I didn't think that small black leather-bound book was a magic charm or some kind of lucky amulet; no, it was a physical reminder - something I could touch with my hands - of the invisible presence of God.

"I pray the Lord my soul to keep..."

* * *

As I lay awake that morning earlier this week, remembering these scenes from my youth, it struck me that night after night, year after year, for as long as I can remember, God has faithfully met me in the gray twilight before sleep, and in the scary darkness of my fears and anxieties, and now, in the wee-morning wakefulness of middle-age.

Every night when I burrow under the blankets, He is there and waiting to talk. When I wake up and the sky is black and the stars are as bright as ice, He is still there, awake and listening and waiting to talk.

For over fifty years - how many nights of sleep? how many nights of sleeplessness? - God has been awake and present and listening and ready to meet with me.

A passage from Psalm 121 also came to mind in the wee-dark hours that particular morning:   "...he who keeps you will not slumber. Behold, he who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep. The LORD is your keeper..." As I recalled those memories from my childhood and considered these verses from Psalms, I was brought to tears, overwhelmed by the incredible faithfulness of God.

Fifty+ years of nights for me, and He has never slumbered, never slept.

Every single night, my Father is awake, still watching, still protecting, still listening, still comforting.

All through the night.

COUNTING BLESSINGS

She may look janky, but she's a trooper!

Change makes me anxious.

I am facing big changes in the weeks ahead. I am super excited...and very nervous.

To counter rising anxiety, it helps me to recall God's faithfulness, provision, and protection in the past. Remembering God's past faithfulness gives me assurance and confidence for the future. Today, before the start of tomorrow's big new adventure, I am looking back.

God's provision for me on this nursing journey:

A father-in-law who let me use his farm truck so that I could get a job and drive to work.

A lab director who gambled on a completely inexperienced new-hire, trained me, encouraged me to do more...then accommodated my work schedule so that I could.

The friend in the library who challenged me to "think about it, instead of telling me why you can't." You unlocked the door to Possibility.

A daughter who chauffeured me to school my first year of classes and who was my biggest cheerleader through some really rough places, a young woman who set an incredible example of hard work, determination, resilience, and grace.

A son and daughter-in-law who generously covered a portion of my school fees and a mother-in-law who helped me pay for my text books. Nursing textbooks are crazy expensive.

The little red Yaris, a gift from my sister and her husband so that I could have my own transportation to school and clinicals.

Best. Nursing. Classmates. Ever. Shared trauma forges bonds.

Soul sisters who prayed for me, cried with me, and exhorted me to lean hard into Jesus.

Hospital coworkers who told me often "You can do this" and who shared their wealth of wisdom and experience with the kindness and generosity of true care-givers.

A pastor and worship team that fed my exhausted soul each Sunday and gave me strength to stumble through one more week.

A son and daughter-in-law who shared pizza and took me out on the lake when I needed to step away and breathe.

The generous friend who gave me three hard 10-hour days to "help get back on top of this house," which had degenerated into absolute nastiness due to school-term neglect.

Parents who prayed for me, a step-mother who mentored me, siblings and kids who encouraged me every step of the way.

The multiple strangers who changed flat tires in the rain, paid for my food in the McDonald's drive-thru, and hugged me when I broke down crying for no apparent reason in the produce section at Walmart.

Fantastic coworkers during long night shifts on med-surg and protection driving home, asleep.

New opportunities, and two Patient Care Administrators who set the Gold Standard for nursing PCA.

Precious patients who shared their hearts and lives with me during the tenderest season. What a blessing and a privilege to approach the Throne alongside these beautiful souls.

And now...

A new door opens.

A new adventure awaits.

Yes, I'm anxious, but I am going to be okay. I know God will be with me and He will faithfully guide and keep me...like He always has before.

THANK YOU

Over a decade ago, a friend gave me a copy of Ann Voskamp's book One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are. Thus began my journey of recording daily small gifts to develop and strengthen the discipline of gratitude.

As I engaged with Ann's book all those years ago, I wrote this: "Ann began a study of prayers of thankfulness in Scripture. What she found surprised her. Prayers of sincere gratitude were often recorded in the midst of - or just preceding - great trial or distress. This puzzled her. Ann's study - and her resolution to fill a notebook with '1,000 gifts' - led her to discover that she had been understanding joy backwards. She had thought that joy came first, that true gratitude and thankfulness to God were based on, were the fruit of, his tangible blessings in this world. On the contrary, Ann found that it is thankfulness that produces joy." (You can read an ancient post about "One Thousand Gifts" HERE.)

Fast forward, oh, five or six years. Another friend gifted me blank journal and challenged me to "write down five things each day you are thankful for." I already had a "thankful notebook," so I decided to use the new journal to record instances of the clear hand of God in my daily life.

Things like a flat tire on a busy four-lane highway, a prayer for help, and the immediate arrival of a family member - "I thought that looked like you!" - who cheerfully changed the tire in less than 15 minutes.

Things like a fearful plea that God would get me safely to my destination on my first-ever solo international flight, which required changing planes in a foreign country - and the young man who sat in front of me on the airplane leaving Chicago, who, after brief conversation, exclaimed, "Oh, I am going to Kigali, too! We have the same connecting flight in Brussels. Stay with me, Auntie, and I will get you exactly where you need to be!" His name was Immanuel.

Ten+ years after reading One Thousand Gifts, I no longer log small gifts daily into a spiral notebook, and that first journal documenting God's interventions and provision is tucked between other journals on a shelf. Thankfulness today has become much more a way of thinking than an exercise with pen and paper.

I am a morning person, typically waking long before my alarm sounds as the sky fades from black to deep indigo. Used to, my first thought of the day was worry as cares of the coming day crashed in on me before my eyes were even fully open. Nowadays, my first thought is usually, "Thank you."

Thank you, Father, for the glittering morning star.

Thank you for light rising on the eastern horizon.

Thank you for this quiet moment before the day begins.

Thank you for the Carolina Wren singing outside my window.

"Thank you" has become a morning routine, a habit. It's just what happens when I wake up.

And for that, I am so very thankful indeed.

* * * * *

"Thank you" - these are literally the first words that pop into my mind when I wake up most mornings. (Oh, to be clear, I will have much less pleasant thoughts as the day progresses, but the day really does typically start with "Thank you.")

About a month ago, something very weird happened: I woke to an entirely different thought. Thank you has become so "normal" that when this different phrase popped into my slowly waking mind, it startled me.

I blinked. I looked around the room, wondering if someone else had spoken, but no one was there. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

Again, clear as wren song: "I love you."

I hardly dared to breathe. Who had spoken? Where had this come from?

I never figured out if "I love you" was spoken from my heart to God - I do love him - or if it was spoken from my Father to me, but I eventually decided to settle on the latter. Perhaps it was both.

Thank you, Father. Thank you.

JOY!

 

JOY!

Sunday, August 11, 2024

Take a few seconds to clear your mind and think about your work, whatever it is that you do all day to keep the house operating, kids fed and clothed, bills paid, and life rolling from one day to the next.

For just a moment, consider your typical work day. What thoughts come to mind? What emotions? Do words like joy, pleasure, and enjoyment pop into your head?

I don't know about you, but when I think about my typical work day, muscles in my neck tighten, my teeth clench, and my stomach churns. Words that come immediately to mind are words like "stress," "exhaustion," "frustration," "inadequacy," and "grief."

Don't get me wrong. I love what I do. I believe it has eternal Kingdom value. I care about my patients and feel privileged to be part of their journey. I have a fantastic team of coworkers. The pay and benefits are good.

So why the neck spasms, teeth-grinding, and digestive issues?

Well, I am trying to figure that out.

* * * * *

You know how you can read a passage of Scripture multiple times, and then on your umpteenth read-through, something completely new jumps off the page at you?

As I struggled with the disparity between how my mind and heart feel about work vs. how my body and emotions feel about work, I found myself reading in Ecclesiastes in this year's read-through-the-Bible.

I have read Ecclesiastes probably a dozen times. Nothing new here, right?

Wrong. There is always something new.

"There is nothing better for a person than that he should eat and drink and find enjoyment in his toil. This also, I saw, is from the hand of God, for apart from him who can eat or who can have enjoyment?" (Ecclesiastes 2:24-25, ESV, emphasis added)

"I perceived that there is nothing better for them than to be joyful and to do good as long as they live; also that everyone should eat and drink and take pleasure in his toil - this is God's gift to man." (Ecclesiastes 3:12-13)

"So I saw that there is nothing better than that a man should rejoice in his work, for that is his lot." (Ecclesiastes 3:22a)

I am going to be perfectly honest: I cannot remember the last time I woke up on a Monday morning feeling joyful about the week ahead.

Chewing this piece of gristle, trying to figure out what's going on inside my head and my heart, I have decided that either (1) my heart is not in the right place, and I desperately need God to change my heart - or - (2) I am not doing the job that God actually wants me to do and I need the Holy Spirit to help me understand what that job is. I am sure there are other possibilities - (3), (4), (5),... - but these are the two I've come up with so far.

So for now, I am praying - and wise sisters are praying for me - that God will change my heart and that He will show me clearly what it is He wants me to do and where it is He wants me to be.

Because I am longing for joy in my labor. And apart from God, who can have enjoyment?

* * * * *

Sunday, September 1, 2024

I typed the first part of this post three weeks ago, then set it aside. Today, I pulled the post back out to reconsider, edit, and potentially share my thoughts. Can I tell you what has happened in the intervening three weeks?

First, three days after writing Part 1 of this post, I received a completely unexpected text from the nursing administrator at a local clinic: "We have an opening...Are you interested in the position?...We want you to apply...Can you come in one day next week to talk?"

The following week, I met the administrator, toured the facility, talked to other staff, prayed, and said, "Yes." As I climbed into my car after our meeting, I felt light-headed, giddy, positively joyful. I felt like a mountain had rolled off my shoulders. I start the new job in a couple of weeks, and I can't remember the last time I have been so excited to begin something new.

Second thing that happened: last weekend, I attended a retreat with dear, dear friends. We ate, we laughed, we cried, we prayed, we walked, we talked, and we poured out the burdens of our hearts to one another. We are all in seasons of transition, growth, change, and struggle. We all deeply desire the presence and direction of God in our respective journeys, and to know the joy, peace, and deep soul rest that comes from close fellowship with Him.

How often over the past several months have I prayed for Jesus to please give me joy, rest, peace? Too many times to count! But last weekend, in the sweet and safe fellowship of dear sisters in Christ, a light came on: Jesus doesn't give us joy, rest, peace - like medicine pulled off a shelf and dispensed in appropriate doses at needful times. Rather, Jesus IS our joy, rest, peace.

To paraphrase a point from Pastor Bill's sermon this morning, Joy/rest/peace is not a feeling: Joy/rest/peace is a person, and his name is Jesus.

I have been earnestly desiring and praying for the wrong thing. In my weariness, anxiousness, and disquiet, I have been praying for God to give me rest, peace, and joy - but what I really need is more of Him.

Jesus says in John 15: "I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinedresser...Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit...As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Abide in my love...these things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full." (John 15:1, 4-5, 9, 11; ESV)

Jesus, I have longed for the gift, rather than the Giver. Forgive me. Thank you, thank you, thank you, for patiently and tenderly loving me anyway, for meeting my needs in spite of my sinful heart, for ever-&-always drawing me back to you. Thank you, Jesus, for faithful friends who consistently shepherd me closer to you. Thank you for Scripture, which speaks of you on every page. Thank you, Jesus, for being my rest, my hope, my joy, my peace. Help me, Jesus, to abide in you.