Whatever He Says

The pie crunch is on this week. 55 have been delivered since this adventure began in November, but this week is when many are due all at once. It's a daily journey. I was going to say, "One pie at a time," but actually it's more like "Ten pies at a time" at the moment. :) On Saturday morning I had a hairdressing appointment; an island of much needed relaxation in the Sea of Pies. I hurried in from the biting cold outside, stamping the snow from my shoes, glad to be inside the bright and warm salon, while outside the first major storm of the winter was brewing. Jamie, my hairdresser, welcomed me and showed me to a chair on the main floor. She explained that she'd be doing my hair there rather than upstairs in her own small, elegantly decorated room, because she'd be working on another customer at the same time as me who was coming in for a shampoo and set. Shortly after I sat down, a car pulled up out front and parked, and a blond woman who loo...

Have you ever been part of something so much bigger than yourself that you feel that you are right in the middle of the adventure and mystery that is God?  Well, that is how it feels right now with the Pies for South Sudan. It's a bit of a scary place to be, but daring to step forward because he said so, and do something that makes absolutely no logical sense, without having any idea how it can all work out is when miracle dust starts to fall from heaven and you just have to smile--well, laugh, actually, with joy. I ended my last proper blog post with these words from my journal: "I just need to remember to relax and breathe--and stick closely connected to his heart and voice. This is how radical obedience works in practice.   And when we place our trembling hands in his great strong one, it is an opportunity for him to be shown to the watching world, right here, right now; not in the pages of the past."   God had nudged me to bake pies to raise funds for our d...

Hello dear friends. I am so sorry for going "missing in action" since both the season of Christmas and responding to the call to bake pies have swallowed me whole! If anyone out there is still checking here, please be patient--I will be back. I'm missing writing and connecting with "you."  I hope that you are enjoying the crazy as much as I am. Let's embrace it and go with the flow; let go what we can; hold on tight, and remember the important--our friends, our families, and the reason we are celebrating at all right now--a King who stooped to love us with his very self.

I followed a nudge from God to bake pies to raise funds for South Sudan. I realize that "a nudge from God" might sound strange, so I will explain.  I was at our  Christian Horizons   annual   l eadership conference at the beginning of November, listening to people sharing about the work our organization does globally. Two of our coworkers plunged into the icy waters of  Lake Couchiching  to raise funds.  They raised about $2000 with their frigid swim! I felt that God was tapping me on the shoulder to help in some way and I turned to the person next to me during the final keynote speech and said, "I think I have to bake pies again!" I've done it before as a fund raiser, a couple of years ago; offering the simple gift of something I can do and watching God use it. The day after we got back, my friend Jane emailed me and asked, "Do you by chance  have any pies for sale?" and I took that as confirmation! :) So that weekend I put it out to the ...

I was thinking about "patience" today and I thought, "What could require more patience than to serve children in a candy store?" Actually, I didn't think "candy store," but "sweet shop," and my mind wandered back through many decades, to the 1950's in Alvechurch , the Worcestershire village in England, in which I grew up. There were several sweet shops in the village, but the quintessential sweet shop belonged to Miss Twitty.  The lamp post in this photograph is right in front of what used to be her sweet shop, at the bottom of Bear Hill. Miss Twitty worked in this little shop for 34 years; from 1929, when the previous owners retired, to 1963, and she had bought it in 1933. Thirty four years of serving the children of the village. I only knew her for the last 4 of her years in the shop, but they were the years I grew from 9 years old to 13--so they were significant and she was imprinted on my memory of childhood. Miss...

We were sitting at the kitchen table, drinking our coffee one recent morning, me and my man. I was overcome with appreciation for who he is and I told him that one of the things I love about him is that he would do anything--and I mean, any-thing, for his family. So then I was curious. "What do you appreciate about me, specifically?" I asked. I mean, sometimes it is nice to know, isn't it? :) This seemed to be a hard question. I could tell the pressure was on. The clock was ticking, like on a quiz show with a time limit before the buzzer rings. I could see the furrowed brow and the figurative pencil being chewed. Beads of sweat were breaking out! Then, "Industrious!" Paul said triumphantly, "You are very industrious." Um, "Industrious?" I didn't feel like I hit the jackpot somehow with that quality. I mean, I'm sure that when he first fell for me,  it wasn't because he spotted "Industrious Girl." :) I have to a...

It happens every now and then; getting lost; and I need to find my bearings again, the true and sure things, including my best "me," which sometimes goes missing in action. I need to find home, that place of retreat and security, where I know and am known. Home safe. I pick up my pen and write. A heart can pour through pen to page and in doing so find such sweet relief. I quiet my restless soul and sit silent. I read. I read the words I need to soak me; to soften me; to move my heart back to kindness, gentleness and humility. I close my eyes to listen better--just in case God might have something to say. He sometimes speaks against the background tick of clock, whirring chimes and the hum of a house. I hear a welcome. Welcome home. And I am grateful; to be enfolded in the grace that only waits for an open heart.