Posted
July 23
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IT’S NOT YOUR FAULT

It’s Not Your Fault

“the sound of a gentle whisper…”

I Kings 19:12

This morning I woke up to worry— again.

As per my usual pattern, all my worry was about me: what I need to do, what I should have done, how inadequate and undone I am. Should have’s, ought to’s…

But on this morning, as I padded out to my place of refuge with my pot of tea, my plain white china cup, my fluffy blanket, I heard something strange and…beautiful in the middle of my self-shaming tirade. Words so soft, like a gentle whisper.

Shhh… hush Di! You are Mine and I love you. Shhh! 

All those discouragements, the conflict and criticisms— those are on Me. 

My breath caught, from You, Lord? 

From Me.

In that one phrase all my angst swooshed out and relief lifted a load from my tense shoulders I hadn’t known I carried. I felt lifted, like those silken hot air balloons, launched into the quiet sky, far above the fray.

From Him. The One who loves me just for me, all the way through— always. My hard days and sleepless nights weren’t simply because I am inadequate. Nor were they because someone else is. The truth is, He used those disruptions to do something wild and wonderful in me, for me.

And, dear ones who read my words, He does the same for you. I think He wants me to tell you that:

It’s not your fault.

That people will blame you, that your enemy stands ready with those fiery darts to afflict you, that shame and heaviness will weigh you down and keep you from soaring, but…

It’s not your fault.

And we’re laughing now, my Father and me, chuckling together in shared joy. Because He knows these words are for me too, for me and every other woman who wallows in blame.

He loves you! He isn’t blaming you— that’s not Him.

And get this: He even…likes you.

I sense His arm around me as I sit curled up in my cushy chair in the corner of my cabin in the woods. We watch— together— as branches bounce in a haphazard dance as one of His creatures— a squirrel? a chipmunk? It’s moving too fast to see— leaps from limb to limb setting the forest asway.

It’s not your fault.

I’m grinning big, seeing His hand in the unexpected, knowing now that He knew what was ahead. He knew and let it be. Not because He’s mean or distant or giving me my just dues, but because He knows I need Him. That only tucked in tight to Him can I do what He needs me to do. And that, more than any other way, it is those hard days, those difficult weeks, those just lousy moments— that cause me to scurry in close, to abide.

I don’t know why or if your weeks are hard. Maybe your kids are squabbling their way through these hot summer days. Maybe you’re the one squabbling. Maybe you’ve stubbed your toe one too many times and the soreness is causing you to limp. I don’t know.

I do know that He wants me to say it again and again:

It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault.  Even when it is.

I think He wants to remind you— and me!— that He has taken our burden and placed it on His back. That He’s got your back. That He loves you and He likes you and that’s really, honestly, the only thing that matters.

Soaring now, way up high in the summer sky where everything looks… beautiful.

From my heart,

Diane

P.S. Do you blame yourself for every troubled day? Feel as if you must work harder, do more, be better, in order to earn God’s favor?  Are these words: It’s not your fault! for you?

 

 

Posted
July 13
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RAISING LEADERS

One week ago everyone went home.

Camp Comer was long over, but we’d extended with visits from Elizabeth with Duke and little Scarlet, and then the unexpected delight of our other daughter, Rebekah, coming for a long weekend.

While they were here I relished the moments, ignoring e-mails and messages and responsibilities and deadlines (and cleaning!) to fully pour myself into relationships that will be mine for a lifetime.

I cuddled with Duke when too much play with too many friends and cousins left him exhausted. We lay on my cushy feather bed, his head resting on my heart, imagining castles and knights and maybe could we make a fort in the attic space above the bedroom?

I issued yes’s for all the times I’d no’d my own kids.

Yes you can help yourself to the gum in the top drawer. Yes, you can have a bit of unhealthy whipped-cream-from-the-can on your vegan hot chocolate. Yes, we’ll build forts and find nooks where imaginations can fly us to other worlds.

They’re all gone now and my little cottage in the fir woods is neat and clean once again. Handprints on the windows lingered long enough to remind me why I’m spending my summer writing words for parents— words I’d longed for when I was the mama with little ones.

And then this morning I read a passage in God’s word I’ve read a million times and somehow this time it lit up the page like the marquees in Times Square:

Here is a trustworthy saying:  Whoever aspires to be an overseer desires a noble task. Now the overseer is to be:

…above reproach

…faithful to his wife

…temperate

… self-controlled

…respectable

…hospitable

…able to teach

…not given to drunkenness

…not violent but gentle

…not quarrelsome

…not a lover of money

And even while I cringe at the realization of how I fall short, it dawns on me that this is God’s matrix for the kind of spiritual leaders He is looking for. A list of character qualities that He values.

A list for parents in the thick of raising the next generation of men and women who will shape the Church and will bring the Kingdom of God into their world.

I’m excited now and fully awake to the riches hidden in plain sight!

This is why Phil and I have changed course after years and decades of pastoring in the local church. Why we are risking security and ease and saying no to retirement and a gazillion things that take up time. Why I am packing my suitcase to trek to un-touristy places like Haiti and Uganda and Albania instead of staying ensconced in my cozy little cottage in the woods.

God has tapped us on the shoulder and beckoned us to come alongside parents who are raising the next leaders and elders and deacons and teachers and entrepreneurs and engineers. His invitation to us is to teach and encourage and train and point out the wisdom pieces in God’s Word that lay waiting to be discovered.

Treasures like Proverbs 24:3,4:

By wisdom a house is built,

And through understanding it is established;

Through knowledge its rooms are filled with rare and beautiful treasures.

There’s a metaphor to inspire parents! To build and then establish a spiritual house where rare and beautiful treasures are the norm. A calling to wisdom and understanding.

I read that list in 1Timothy knowing it was the Apostle Paul’s inspired-by-God list for choosing leaders in Timothy’s church. And at the same time I read it sensing that Paul’s list is also a parent’s list.

Because, what every counselor or teacher knows is:

… that faithfulness and self-control and gentleness instead of violence are best taught early before a child is hardened into hard-to-change ways of dealing with conflict.

… that being quarrelsome can be nipped in the bud when parents encourage humility and teach their children ways to listen and understand instead of allowing them to succeed by demanding control over their siblings.

…that being hospitable is best taught by throwing open the doors of our homes and lives to people who need the refuge we offer.

… and being not a lover of money is ingrained in a child who is taught and shown how to be grateful and generous.

And so I sit at my desk this summer, reaching for words to explain truths in the Scriptures that work in real life. Writing and rewriting and studying and pondering— asking God to make His wisdoms easier to find, to gift me— and all the parents who want to raise followers of Jesus— with a depth of understanding that will enable us to raise children who will become the next generation of leaders.

I’ll be spilling over onto the pages of this place, of course. Some things just can’t wait the months needed to create a whole book. And I’d love to hear from you— young moms, hope-to-be-someday moms, empty-nest moms and those who were raised in the ways of wisdom—

What is it you know about the spiritual training of children that you’re sensing is a rare and beautiful treasure?

What is it that you know now, that you wish you’d known then?

What are the areas you need help in this task of raising children whose hearts burn to know God? Members of the tribe who A.W.Tozer called “children of the burning hearts”?

And books! Don’t forget to send me the names of books that have fueled your quest for wisdom and understanding.  I would love to gather your questions and treasures as I write.

From my heart,

Diane

 

Posted
June 15
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HOW TO THRIVE THIS SUMMER… for moms

How To Survive Thrive This Summer …for moms

Part I

Then Jesus said to the centurion:

“Go! Let it be done just as you believed it would.”

And his servant was healed in that moment.

Matthew 8v13

Dear Mothers-Who-Dread-Summer,

The ranting of disappointed, disillusioned moms who dread the long weeks ahead have already begun broadcasting all over cyberspace. And every time I read those words my heart hurts. Because I heard those words too.

Listening in to those conversations between mothers, I knew that it was me who would mess up my mom’s world in the weeks ahead, and me who would instigate and perpetuate those arguments.

It was me who would be in the way.

Somehow I failed to see the smiles beneath the words. I didn’t know she didn’t mean it. Had no clue that this is just the talk of moms in the trenches, a sort of bravado between friends.

And every chance I got I skipped down the path, scampering as fast as my awkwardness would carry me to Caroline’s house. And there, in that house by the edge of the woods, I reveled in my best friend’s mom’s welcome.

Anita Joslyn saw summers so differently than any others that I still warm with the memories of being loved by her “a cuppa tea solves everything, luv” kindness.

Anita Joslyn full on cried through the last week of summer! She lamented our going back to school. That last week before school resumed was a mournful celebration of every good memory she’d made for us over the summer months.

She took us to have cake at her favorite bakery. She painted our toe-nails stylish yellow, made us toast spread with Nutella. She took us for rides in her forest green Jaguar, held a sleep over to get every last drop of fun out of our last days.

Gosh, I loved her.

Somehow, I think Anita Joslyn knew something most mothers seem to miss. She believed that her children were a gift to be cherished.  And she chose to embrace one longing-to-be-cherished best friend as well.

And so, for these first weeks of summer break, I want to imagine with you how summers might be a time for thriving. Of cherishing your children.

I am asking the Father to show us how create a summer in which you and your children can thrive. A summer so sweet that maybe you’ll create a life long memory for your kids… and a friend in need.

For today, here are two essentials:

1.     Take time to readjust your thinking about motherhood. 

Most of us once longed to be mothers. We cried over Hallmark commercials and couldn’t wait to be the center of the celebration on Mother’s Day.

What we didn’t do was count the cost. In our idealistic dreams we imagined our pink-cheeked cherubs sweetly crowning us with daisy chains, drifting off to sleep while we bustled about creating the perfect home.

The truth is, motherhood and family and nurturing children is relentlessly hard work. Managing two or three people while actually getting something done takes effort and focus and planning and goal setting. And yet we know that everything worth doing well is worth doing right, and that includes raising our children.

What if we reimagined summer as an important project to manage? Using our skills and energy and imagination to purposefully pour into our children, to create those kinds of I-am-cherished memories that I relish from my friend’s mom? What if we set goals? What if we planned each day on purpose— even the ones where nothing gets done?

What if we started this summer by going to God and asking Him to “heal” us and our children from the selfishness that pervades our homes?

I dare think He might say, “Go! Let it be done just as you believed it would.” 

2.   Practice the discipline of thanksgiving.

Ann Voskamp’s book, One Thousand Gifts has opened a generation of women to the heart transforming power of giving thanks.

She writes: “Anxiety can wear anger’s mask. Fear of failing, of falling, of falling behind, it can make us fierce. The answer to anxiety is the adoration of Christ.”

Then in a piece of raw honesty this week  she wrote of her own angry meltdown and I ached at the memories of doing much the same and all the shame that is so hard to remember is forgiven.

She urges us to change our hearts and our minds by choosing to write thanks in lists. And she tells her story of how those lists changed her heart by setting her free.

Here’s what I hope every mama will do: Run out and get a notebook for each of your children—a simple moleskin will do. Write their name on the front. Then proceed to fill the pages with what you love about your child. Do it every day. On going-good-I’ve-got-this-days… and on those awful days you’ll someday wish you could forget.

1. The feel of his soft warmth as he snuggles you first thing in the morning.

2. Her lingering lisp that turns every sentence into sweetness. 

Include triumphs of that day:

1.    A moment of peace, a shared joke between siblings.

2.   That time when she cleaned the toothpaste off the sink and hung the towel on it’s hook— without being asked.

DO NOT turn that notebook into a performance review. This is not a tool for manipulation, but a means of seeing and hearing Truth— the Truth that God sees and we too often miss in the midst of crazy, real, ordinary summer days.

This post is already too long and I’ve just gotten started on all my Thriving Summer thoughts. I’ll save the rest for next week and maybe many weeks ahead. But while I wait to jot down more, can you fill in the comments with your own ideas of How To Thrive This Summer? Let’s fill the summer with His goodness and pour it on each other and on our children.

From my heart,

Diane

 

Posted
June 12
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The Family I Always Wanted

We all need a small group of people who will echo God’s love for us and His belief in us.

In an ideal universe, these are the people closest to us, our immediate families.

But this is not the case for so many people.

The wounds so many people carry are not from the opinions of strangers

but from the opinions of the people they love.

Savor~ by Shauna Niequist

I read these words this morning knowing I have what everyone wants and needs and so few experience— a loving, affirming family who actually like each other.

I cry mama-tears as I remember the years and years of hoping for this, despairing that my children would ever get along, that maybe this ideal is unrealistic, impossible. How I wondered if they would grow up to hate me for all those broken edges that poked and hurt and sometimes (oh how I wish it wasn’t true!) – wounded.

The truth is, ours is not and never was the Ideal Family.

We are too willful, too wordy, too opinionated to avoid hurting each other.  But somehow the Spirit of God heard those not-possible prayers from all those years and did something impossible.

He created a family of us, for us, in spite of us.

And tomorrow my family will begin gathering in Southern California for a week of being us. Camp Comer officially begins Monday at Disneyland. Fifteen of us: Pops, John Mark, Tam, Beks, Steve, Beets, Brook, Matt-man, Simo along with the 5 Grands: Judester, Mo-man, Sunday-Love, Dukester, and baby Scar.

And me.

I’ll be there grinning, taking terrible pictures and being teased for it, heart so full I won’t know whether to laugh at the impossibility of us as we are or weep because of the impossibility of what we have become.

We are a family.

We belong, every one of us— those born into us and those married into us. We will be there for each other in times that include Disneyland and in times of tragedy or shame or loss or failure. We, better than anyone else, know each other’s worth. And each other’s less-than’s.

There is something incredibly safe about being all-together.

As if we are our own small democracy, a tribe of people who will defend each other’s well-being at all costs.

When, just this last week, we got the bad news about 5 year old Duke’s severe hearing loss in one ear, his need to get fitted for a hearing aid before he starts school this fall, the email thread thrummed with our collective grief— and with hope as well. That watching Mom go deaf has taken some of the terror out of what may lie ahead for this boy we all know has worlds to conquer. And who knows who else in our clan.

In the front pages of John Mark’s book is a real-deal endorsement from his little brother, written a year or so before John Mark stood in front of Matt and his bride to laugh and tease and preach just a little hell fire and brimstone at his wedding before declaring Matthew and Simona husband and wife.

All week Elizabeth will love us by cooking. Beks will bring books and stories, Steve will excite us about design, Simo will inspire us with her gentle elegance, Brook will have us laughing, Tam will understand, Matt will bring joy and balance, John Mark will get us thinking about things we didn’t know mattered, and Pops— he will make it all work.

And me? I will be filling up with this “small group of people who echo God’s love for us and His belief in us”.

I can’t help but think of all the young parents who are right in the thick of the part that feels impossible.

Moms who will get up this morning to another day of the same, wondering if all this work is worth it. Dads who had no idea how hard all this would be. May I just give you a peek into your future?

Fathers, don’t run away.

You stand to lose so much more than you can comprehend. Be faithful, be present, be loving, say loving things. Apologize when you blow it. Get help when you need it. Love on your wife like your future depends on it. Because it does.

Mothers, don’t be mean.

Be friendly to that man of yours even when you’re overwhelmed and think he could be, should be better. Love on those children even when you’ve reached your limit. Apologize when you blow it so they grow up knowing your frustration wasn’t their fault— because it isn’t. And please, watch your words.

Because someday, by God’s grace and a miracle or two, you will be planning your own version of Camp Comer.

And the fun starts now.

From an overflowing heart,

Diane

P.S. Do you have hopes for your family? Can you tell us?

 

 

Posted
June 3
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THE QUIET: time management 101

… He dismissed the crowd.

Matthew 14v22

In my quest to learn the Quiet Life— that daily living tucked into God’s presence, being who I am made to be, doing what I am directed to do— I am mulling over the ever popular topic of Time Management. 

For years now, God has been opening my eyes to the way He uses time to His purposes. Maybe someday I’ll gather all those pieces in one place and post them here where everything going in me seems to eventually come out. But this morning, these words about Jesus won’t leave me alone:

He dismissed the crowd.

These were people He cared about. People who were hungry for His story, desperately thirsty to know the Father. They were not nuisances, time wasters, hangers-on. These people were His mission.

And yet He left them. He demanded that they leave. He dismissed them.

Sometimes— often— we must dismiss the crowd. Just like Jesus.

If you are a mother (dare I say it?) that may mean your children. I shudder when a mother proudly boasts that she’s never left her kids overnight. Really? As if that is a badge of honor for Most-Needed Mama. It’s also a citation for a much-neglected marriage.

Sometimes, for the sake of sanity, a mother needs to dismiss the crowd.

If you are well on your way to win the most successful employee of the year award at your work, you may well need to dismiss the List Of One More Thing To Do. One more call to make, one more evening spent organizing for productivity, one more schmooze after work with the boss.

To work and work and work makes for some twisted brokenness in any of us. Nobody is as impressed as we wish they were by our constant pushing of ourselves. Especially when it leaves us prickly and crabby and hinting that if only everyone else would work this hard then we wouldn’t have to.

Sometimes, for wholeness, hard working do-ers need to dismiss the crowd and (gulp!) do less.

If you are, like me, driven by the compulsion to keep everyone happy, you may need to do exactly what I need to do. I need to dismiss the expectations. I need to face the fact that the cost of pleasing everyone will bankrupt me. That I’ll have nothing more to give if I’ve turned myself inside out to try to be more than I am.

Sometimes, people-pleasers need to have the courage to dismiss the crowd.

The other night, Phil found the movie Chariots of Fire on Netflix. He insisted that we watch it together because he had a point to make. It’s in a scene where Eric Liddell is explaining to his sister that he cannot yet go to China where he is going to spend the rest of his life as a missionary. She’s disappointed in him and clearly disapproves (my worst nightmare!). This is what he says: “I believe that God made me for a purpose–for China– but He also made me fast. And when I run I feel His pleasure.”

Because after writing a post about The Rhythm of Slow, my husband affectionately twisted that memorable line to encourage me to say,

 I believe God made me for a purpose… but He also made me slow. And when I mull and think and read and learn and write, I feel His pleasure.

He was reminding me with all that charisma that makes him able to say hard things well, that I am best when I am who I am. That when I try to be like someone I admire or someone I think I should be, when I hurry at a pace that is theirs and not mine, I inevitably stumble.

But when I’m me— when I dismiss the crowd of unrealistic expectations— when I plod at my own pace, that’s when I am the me I am meant to be. 

I don’t know who or what is your crowd to dismiss. Who you need to get away from in order to come back and love them more and better. What you may need to turn off in order to be content with who you are. (hint, hint, your iPhone!)

What I do know is that Jesus dismissed His crowd to be alone with the Father for a while. He needed to reconnect, to remember, to think and pray and rest in His presence.

After He had dismissed them,

He went up on a mountainside by Himself to pray.

Matthew 14v23

I think that’s what He is whispering to me today. That managing my time means going at my own pace and being okay with slow. Dismissing my own expectations of me. And being okay with those who aren’t okay with that.

He is showing me the way to freedom to do what I need to do. And He is giving me permission to do what it takes to be more with Him, so that I can be more who He wants me to be— more at rest in the quiet.

From my heart,

Diane

P.S. Is the Father whispering in your ear? Is there a crowd to dismiss? I would love to know that I’m not alone in this…

 

 

 

Posted
May 29
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THE QUIET: the rhythm of slow

I had big plans this morning.

A long list of to-do’s on a project I want finished in the next few days. To get it done I’ve been up extra early every morning, focusing on what needs doing, falling in bed at the end of the day so tired all I feel is numb.

I thought I needed to work this relentlessly… for God… for my husband… for the ministry to parents we lead together.

I’ve pushed away Phil’s hints that maybe it can wait, that I’m trying too hard, that this pushing isn’t worth what it does to me.

Surely, I thought, God wants this now. He needs this book to inspire parents. All these interruptions just need to be managed better, I need to be more organized, move faster, push myself just a little harder to eek out a little more.

Then this morning something changed.

A friend had sent a homemade candle in a canning jar along with a bag full of fresh greens from his garden. This friend is under real pressure, the kind that only a single dad with a heart full of love for his children can understand.

Me, I’m under pressure because I chose it.

As I lit that little candle and watched it flicker in the shadows of my cabin in the woods— its fragrance reminding me of lemons and verbena and salads fresh from the earth—I couldn’t help but wonder how he’d found the time to make something beautiful for his friends.

A song of my childhood sounded like the tinkle of a music box to my ears that hear nothing,

This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine…

let it shine, let it shine, let it shine. 

And then His words filtered through the lingering melody and I heard,

In Him was life and the life was the light of men. And the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it… those who were His own did not receive Him…

John 1v 4,5,11

His own had missed His coming into their world.

And for just a moment so had I. Caught up in serving Him, I’d somehow forgotten.

I’d pushed myself past my God-tuned rhythm and tried to be better, faster, more disciplined and committed and… I’d become tense and uptight and too tired to be who He made me to be.

I am not a super-achiever. I am not a multi-tasking, amazing spinner of many plates at the same time. When I try, I leave a trail of broken china and love-deprived people behind.

God made me slow. A ponderer. A delighter in beauty. A relisher of words. A tidier of cupboards who finds wonder in small things.

That’s who He wants me to be— the true me.

When I rush and manage and go faster than I can, I deprive Him—

and my people— of me. The one He likes just as I am.

I stare outside my window and see the glistening of silk strands in the spruce tree. A spider’s trail.

My dog lies waiting for his walk, his limpid eyes letting me know he’s willing whenever I am. Soon the day will radiate the heat of the almost—summer sun and neither of us will want to go.

Could my list wait? Might He bring inspiration on a platter of trust? Might slowing down to the rhythm of God-in-me be just the way to what He wants… for me, for mine, for the work He’s assigned for me to do?

Everything changes with that love-made candle. Such a simple thing. I am righted once again, smiling, listening.

Maybe I won’t get my project done on my self-imposed timeline. Maybe it will take longer and end up better just because I listened to the tune of His song for me.

Maybe I’ll go on a walk right now and listen just a little more.

From my heart,

Diane

P.S. What are you learning about your own pace? Are you slow like me or a sprinter who loves the feeling of rushing between rests? I’d love to hear.

 

 

 

Posted
May 20
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THE QUIET: the most important work

A man was attacked by robbers, stripped, beaten, left half dead by the side of the road.

A priest passed by on the other side of the road. A Levite passed by on the other side.

But a Samaritan saw him, came where the man was, took pity on him, went to him, bandaged his wounds and took care of him.

Taken from Luke 10v30-36

Sometimes, in real life, we get beat up.

Stripped bare. Left by the side of a lonely road.

All our dreams and work and wishes lay scattered around us, mocking the hope we once held so lightly.

We blame others, we blame ourselves, we blame God.

Where were You?

In that place of brokenness, He comes quietly. In fact, in that hurting place, our groanings outshout His whispers. We cannot hear Him and so we think He is isn’t speaking, that He’s left us wounded and alone, that God is silent in our suffering.

And yet… somewhere in the quiet of our souls we know He is there, He must be there. There in our mess and in our mixed-upness, He waits.

And He sends Samaritans. Not the uber-holy, super successful, got-it-all-together saints. Just the plain ones. The ones who’ve been hurt and wondered why. The ones who’ve blown it and failed and been put back together. The ones without answers.

They come with their oil and wine, the medicine of welcome. They see us. They change course for us, coming to where we are. They tenderly bandage the wounds we cannot bring ourselves to look at lest we faint from the hurt.

They take care of us, for God.

 In the quiet this morning, I hear God telling me that this— more than anything else I might do— is Kingdom work. This is worth wearing myself out for, this being Jesus to one left wounded by the side of the road.

I hear Him whispering that bringing wine to refresh and oil to soothe is my calling.

Why me? Why can’t I be one of the priests, all holy and righteous, a shining example of perfectness? Why can’t I be one of those set aside Levites whose calling is all about order and doing things right and telling everyone how to be good?

He smiles.

I see the twinkle in His eye as He looks at me, and this is what I hear:

Your story, Di, is your beauty. The hurt, the brokenness, your failure, these are the tools I am using to carve you into who I want you to be— who I need you to be.

I know it’s true— the truest truth. That…

I am most useful to the Master when I am all His and all about Him.

Not when I am good.

Not when I excel.

Not when I am anything worth lauding or applauding.

I know, but I know, but I know that the Father needs a whole army of people who will speak for Him in the kindness of coming and seeing and feeling and bandaging and taking care of His broken ones.

Hmm.

Could that be your calling too? Might you, as you travel about your day, keep your eye scanning the side of the road just in case He’s wanting you to take care of one of His wounded ones for a while?

In the quiet of this morning, I say yes. I leave space on my list, a little extra room just in case. I tidy my home in anticipation of who might need the safety of this cottage in the woods. A friend? A stranger? A child?

I tell Him it’s okay to use my not-so-nice story even though I wish I’d been a better woman so I could say, “Just do life the way I do and you’ll be happy too.”

But I didn’t, so I can’t, and so I give Him who I am right now to use any way He wishes.

I wonder if your story is just the one He needs for someone laying beaten and robbed on the side of the road?

And I wonder what would happen if we all said, Okay, God, show me who and I’ll be there with bandages and hope.

From a willing heart,

Diane

P.S. Has someone taken care of you… for God? Or has God used your not-so-nice story to bring hope to a wounded one? I would love to hear how He is working.