Whatever He Says

As long as I can remember, I have loved to sing. I must have been only 6 or 7 at  Hagley Primary School in the U.K  when a rotund, grey-haired teacher strolled up and down the rows of earnestly singing students. His head would tilt as he listened for the slightest hint of dissonance among our voices. He taught us to take a deep breath and exhale slowly, carrying sound on our breath. I still remember him, though not his name, across the long span of 63 years! I loved singing hymns during morning assemblies throughout the rest of my school years, and later, as a teenager in a small evangelical church, sang with a gospel band. We were led by an excellent musician and singer who managed to muster the troops into some kind of order. I often wondered, though, why God apparently didn't give me the voice to match my love of singing. People sometimes assured me it had a "nice" or even "beautiful" sound, but I just heard a soft, thin, reedy voice. A few months ago...

By Belinda We sang, wrestled with beat, rhythm, harmony and key. With every attempt our voices grew stronger, more confident, the sound more harmonious. In the end we fancied a distinct likeness to the 70's pop group ABBA. Well, we had been at practice for an hour and a half by then; perhaps we were delusional--or maybe we just really, really sounded good. We spilled out of the church into the coolness of night long fallen. Car doors slammed, assaulting the silence, headlights beamed and motors sped us away to our homes. As I drove, the result of our efforts made me think about things hard won.  There are battles in my life I have not yet won. They are testimony to my human frailty, weakness, selfishness, self indulgence, and self deception, but I haven't given up; I am still on the journey. I have some hard won relationships and those I cherish more than words can fully express.We have wrestled with notes that jarred and wrong keys and ...

I love people and never get tired of sitting across from someone, looking into their eyes and listening to what they have to say. What I just wrote sounds as though I am a good listener, but all too often I am whirling around faster than--than a washer on the spin cycle! Anyone with a smidgen of interpersonal radar would not find that inviting. But, thank goodness that in spite of "me," I sometimes do see the one in front of me and just enjoy "what God has made" in that other person. And what he makes is delightful. The snippets of wisdom I glean from conversations, I take away to ponder later. Today someone told me that he had coached a girl's basketball team to win two championships. I had such fun listening to his coaching stories. His eyes sparkled as the stories came with laughter in his deep voice. Of the training, some girls would say, “I’m tired, I’m not doing it.” He would smile and say, “I know. Still, RUN.” He said they would complain as they ran, but...

The good hand of God is on each of us. He has wonderful plans for us. "For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them." Ephesians 2: 10 NASV I pray that I, that each of us, would be so committed to His work that we would persevere under trial, buckle down when we're questioned and stay the course when attacked or discouraged. May we be like Nehemiah. He was a Jew and a cup bearer to the King. Nehemiah wasn't born into greatness, yet he became great. Nehemiah didn't pray for God to remove his difficult circumstances. Instead, Nehemiah looked for opportunity within his circumstances. He was burdened for the things of God. Nehemiah learned the wall of Jerusalem was broken down and its gates were burned with fire. He says, "Now it came about when I heard these words, I sat down and wept and mourned for days; and I was fasting and praying before the God of heaven." Nehemiah 1: 4 ...

To you who has given birth and raised a child To you who has nurtured another, given encouragement, shelter, a meal, a kind word, or a hand up along life's journey To you who know the pain of a barren womb To you who wait expectantly till your day comes Happy Mother's Day to all who 'mother' and know the joy, challenges, and pain of care-taking. We lift our hearts and hands to you Jesus - to fill us, use us, teach us...may we walk with you on this journey. May we serve faithfully until our work on earth is done. PART OF THIS MOTHER'S JOURNEY...JUST PASSING THROUGH He looks at me, eyes hard, defiance set on his face. No words this time but every ounce of his energy is targeted in that glare. He turns and does what I ask. Not cheerfully, not with a willing heart, but because he dislikes the consequences which his inaction will generate. I ponder the nature of this wiry, blond, eight-year old boy. He's full of youthful curiousity - so many questions, his innocen...

Some days test our mettle. Saturday was one of those days. I woke up tired and irritable and tried to, "put on a heart of compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience." I chose to be cheerful, even though I was miserable. Plans got cancelled first thing in the a.m. and the older children were disappointed. Chores got done reluctantly and with complaint but I knew all of us gave the best we had. The day didn't get easier. Even while supervised, the twins were into one mischievous endeavor after another. How they plan and execute these tiny missions in minutes never ceases to amaze me. How much damage can be done in a moment by one toddler is one of life's mysteries. How much can be done by two should be the Eighth Wonder of the world. In five and a half hours here is a sample of a few antics: one upturned full basket of folded laundry, 4 spilled cups of water, acquired and placed in mouth 9 hard candies(yes, I counted),one peeled off corner of wallpaper, ...