Up the Sunbeam

-- When do you suppose it happens?  Where along the way do we begin to become things we're not?  And at what point do we stop becoming the things we are . . . or get sidetracked, anyway? Why are we tempted to squeeze ourselves into molds other than what God designed us to be?  How is it that sometimes we're not even sure we KNOW what He wants us to be?  "What do you want to be when you grow up?" Are you any of the things you thought you'd be?  Sometimes, even when we are grown up, we're not sure if we know the answer to that question, and being what we'll be feels as far distant as it did when we were children, . . . maybe farther. It can't possibly be for lack of options.  In our time, the options are practically limitless!  Maybe there are too many options, and we just can't zero in on what our "thing" is. Maybe we have a vague idea or bits and pieces that seem unrelated, but we can't quite nail it down to an elevator speech t

-- ". . . bur st into song, you mountains! For the LORD comforts His people and will have compassion on His afflicted ones." Isaiah 49:13 NIV I craned my neck, bending to peer out the airplane window that is much too small for a photographer's liking.  I took this picture of Mount Hood in Oregon, hoping to capture something of its breathtaking grandeur.  In gradients of blue and white, this sleeping volcano towers over dozens of lesser mountains, rugged ridges and rocky crags.  Range upon range laid out in rows, each just a layer in the landscape parfait before me.  Even the sky was arranged in layers above the mountain splendor that day, so I tucked it all neatly into my memory card in an effort to take it with me. In this picture you can't see the valley floors between the mountains, but rest assured, they are there. How deep? How wide? No telling. I know a little something about valleys . . . I grew up in British Columbia's Okanagan Valley.  Valleys a

-- Years have come and gone since I got the first phone call . . . and the second. Twice in two weeks a well-regarded ministry leader here in my area called to make an invitation. Both times she said that while praying about a ministry position she needed to fill, my name came to her mind, and she wondered if I would be interested. I had only recently learned that I wasn't required to give an automatic yes to everything I was asked to do, so I flexed my new muscle and twice told her I would pray about it. The reason she called twice is that the first time, I told her no. I had, true to my word, prayed and asked God whether He would have me take this position. There was nothing in my seeking of Him that gave me even the slightest whisper of a "yes" answer. I then talked to Hero Husband, and he agreed with me for many reasons that it didn't seem that I should do it. When the second call came, I was a little confused, and almost wavered, but since I believe God is p

   "As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, 'Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!'     'Martha, Martha,'  the Lord answered,  'you are worried and upset about many things,   but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.'”  Luke 10:38-42 NIV I have had this title in my Onenote notebook for Blog Ideas since October 4, 2009.  That was all I had. A title. And a blank page. And a huge question mark in my heart. How can I have Mary's heart when Martha's work needs to get done? That page has stayed blank because I thought I'd write it when I had figured ever

-- He looked like he'd stepped off the pages of Sports Illustrated and had a name to match--Tony Friday. He was lean and strong and every bit of "tall, dark and handsome." He loved His Momma and he gallantly opened doors for me. He made me laugh out loud and made me think deeply. He could hold a note forEVER and suddenly make characters spring to life with no warning. He was a big kid and he was a Bible scholar. He made me feel both completely safe and wildly vulnerable. He was everything I wanted, and wonder of wonders, he wanted ME! Me . . . the girl who had never had a boyfriend before him. Me . . . the girl who was 22 years old before she got her first kiss . . . and he gave it to her. Me . . . the girl who had always felt on the outside looking in when it came to love. Me . . . the girl who never thought she measured up to the brand of beauty the world required. Me . . . he wanted . . . me. Oh! He is nothing but a gift!  He is living, breathing, power

-- The whimsical whistle of my cell phone ring tone beckoned from my purse.  It was She So Sweet's biology teacher returning my call to answer a couple of questions I had about his class.  He was very helpful in answering my questions and in the course of our conversation, I decided to talk to him a little bit about the upcoming unit on evolution. With a 20 year (combined) history of my kids being in public schools and many teachers during that time who were . . . um . . . passionate about their beliefs in evolution, I always like to touch base with new teachers, hopefully to assure that they will at the very least be respectful of students who hold a creationist viewpoint.  I was so impressed with this teacher (who clearly does believe in evolution) when he spoke of "the theory of evolution and what it suggests."  I was quick to thank him for stating it that way rather than the fierce dogma I have experienced from other teachers. We went on to have a very cordial co

-- "The LORD will march out like a champion . . ." Isaiah 42:13a NIV The Super Bowl has not yet begun as I sit down to write this.  It is a story yet to be written, a battle yet to be fought.  Football fans everywhere are poised and waiting for the contest to unfold.  I am one of them.  Who will win the day?  Whose great season will end in triumph and who will go home in deepest disappointment?  Who will have the game of his life?  Who will make mistakes that affect the outcome of the game?  We don't know!  As they say, "That's why they play the game." Humanity loves a contest!  We just love to watch and/or participate in competition.  The Super Bowl is in an elite category of contests, right up there with Game 7 of a World Series (or NBA or NHL Championship), the 5th Set of a Wimbledon Final, the final round at Augusta, the Home Stretch at the Kentucky Derby, the Gold Medal game in the Olympics.  The drama just doesn't get any bigger in athletic co

-- Snow . . . wind . . . sleet . . . ice . . . cars crumpled and off the road . . . planes staying put . . . snow plows that can't keep up . . . power outages and people trying to stay warm--that's one story on the news today. Clashing mobs . . . anger . . . rage . . . demands . . . tanks in the streets of Cairo . . . Molotov cocktails lighting up a night darker than dark . . . bullets firing in the air, at least for now--that is the other big story of the day. There are a host of other stories too. None of them hold out hope for tomorrow to be better than today. So where can we look that will not drive us to distraction or depression, or both? Is there anything right with the world on this very turbulent day? Is anything alive? Is anything good growing? Photo Courtesy of freebigpictures.com When I was a little girl, it was snowdrops--beautiful white flowers that would bravely push their lovely heads up through the powdery British Columbia snow, heralding that spr