Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Life Is A Highway

Sometimes the things of this life just don't make sense.  We pray and seek God, but it seems like forever before an answer comes. 

The waiting is so hard.

We go back to Him again and again for clarity, asking if we have "missed something".

Still nothing.

The waiting is still so hard.

The days pass, the quietness lingers long, and the waiting gets more difficult with each passing day.

It was in the midst of waiting that He taught me something.

It was late on a Saturday afternoon, the grocery shopping and errand running was complete, and I was on my way home.  Merging onto the interstate, I was relieved at the thought of getting away from some of the stop and go traffic, playing a favorite CD, and just moving on down the road.  In my mind I assumed I would be able to just drive.

Get to where I was going.

Make it to my destination.

Simply move on.

But it wasn't that easy. 

I found my little car clustered amongst several others, I moved to the outside lane as to pass slower traffic, following closely behind the car in front of me.  That car was closely following the one in front of it, but none of us were going anywhere very fast, or at least not at the speed we preferred.

The fast lane wasn't passing the slow lane very quickly, and the slow lane wasn't getting in any more of a hurry.

I was boxed in and forced to just go with the flow.  There was not a thing I could do about it, except continue at a safe speed with the cars around me.  Yes, I was going to get to my destination eventually, but maybe not quite as quickly as I had in mind, but even at this speed, I would still get there.

That's when I felt His nudge within - Your life is like kind of like this highway. 

Yes, I have been praying and waiting upon Him and He has heard me.

He is working.  He's very aware of where I am.

But sometimes I'm in traffic.

He is working in more lives than just mine, I'm not the only car on the road.

And maybe some of the traffic is moving a little slow, the others not in quite as much of a hurry as I am.

I will still eventually reach the destination, maybe just not as quickly as I had in mind. 

I can rest knowing that I am within His hand, never out of His reach.  I can rest knowing that He has heard me and that He is moving and working.  I am on the right road.

I will stay in my lane and wait for Him to clear the traffic. 

How beautiful that day will be.

God, I thank you that you still continue to show and teach me things through my everyday situations and experiences.  Yes, You are a God with thoughts far beyond my own; yet, You still make yourself simple so that we can learn from You.   

Royal Princess Daughter Of The King

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Thursday, April 19, 2012

Delicate Strength

The Iris.......
every spring it's blossoms capture my eye.  Her blooms of gradient color are ruffled, seemingly airy, light, and delicate. The ink on her petals lighter on the tips grow deeper and more rich as you move toward her center.  As I look upon the flower, it appears that the slightest breeze or shower will rip her glory from her, but have you ever stooped down to cradle her dress in your hands?

If you haven't, I think you would be pleasantly surprised if you did.

What appears light and carefree, is really very sturdy and strong.  I have encountered people in my life who are like an iris.  Their demeanor is always gentle and delicate, their spirit welcoming and beautiful, and as I have gotten closer and actually touched the heart of who they are, I have found the color painted upon their lives deeper and richer the closer I get to their center.  

I have also found that those same people whose presence is light and joyful, are surprisingly strong and sturdy when the world brings its storms, winds, and rains. 

They possess a delicate strength.

Those people are as refreshing to me as gazing upon the beauty of God's creation, causing me to want to gaze upon Him longer and drink Him in more deeply and ask myself -

Does my life burst forth that delicate frame, gentle to others and as they get close enough to touch me, do they find someone beautiful, yet strong and sturdy, colored more deeply as they reach to my core?

Maybe not now, but someday soon......................Blooms will come.

Royal Princess Daughter Of The King

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Sunday, April 15, 2012

A Little Coffee With My Cream

When I was little I remember sipping coffee from Grandaddy's coffee cup.  He liked a little coffee with his cream and sugar.  It was tasty to me and I felt all big, but I never really remember taking more than a sip or two.

My parents both drink a little coffee with their cream and sugar too, but I, personally, have not really been a coffee drinker.  I'm more of cold Diet Dr Pepper girl in the morning to get me going, but I have from time to time drank a cup of coffee when I've been a little chilly.  That is, until the past few months. I don't know what has happened, but I have taken a liking to a cup of coffee when I get to work in the morning and sometimes I like a cup in the evening. 

The problem is, I'm kinda like Mom, Dad, and Grandaddy, I like a little coffee with my cream and sugar, and I have to get it "just right".

As I've brewed an occassional evening cup over the past several weeks, Brenna has pestered and begged me for a cup for herself, but I have managed to get around it.  The thought of giggly Brenna, who never stops talking, tanked up on a load of caffeinated coffee gave me much caution in this area.  I guess Grandaddy was a little more adventurous and carefree than I am, and I value going to bed sometime before midnight, therefore, I have refrained from allowing her indulgence. 

But, the other night, I had a weak moment, and she asked for a cup.  There was a little left in the pot,  I was sitting at the table reading, she asked, and I caved.  She poured herself a cup and added the cream and sugar on her own. 

She brought the cup to me and said, "Here, see if this tastes right."

Looking into her cup, almost white from cream, I asked, "Does it taste good to you?  I doesn't matter what it tastes like to me, as long as it tastes good to you." 

"But I want it to taste the way you like yours."

I sipped from her cup to sample her brew and found it to be just right.

She wants to be like me in many ways, and this was no different.  If her coffee tasted the way Momma drinks hers, then that's what she wanted.  The way Mom wanted it was right in her mind, no matter what it tasted like to her. 

If today were a cup of coffee, how would you have it?

Straight up, black?

Or would you have a little coffee with your cream?

Would your cup be filled with a brew the way it tastes good to you or the way it tastes good to Him?

Father, this is your day.  I want to serve this day to others the way it would taste good to You, which will taste good to the people You place in my path today.  Holy Spirit, remind me as the moments present themselves, to put aside my preferences and chose Yours, which are best.

Before we close, I want to let you know that today sort of a special day, or at least I think it is.  Beyond Sunday Morning is two years old today, and I want to thank all of you for reading and sharing in ministering with me at my little corner of the internet world.   If you have enjoyed reading the posts here, please share Beyond Sunday Morning with a friend so that they may be encouraged as well.

Happy Birthday Beyond Sunday Morning, and thank You, God, for using this small offering for Your Kingdom.  To You Be All Glory and Praise.

Royal Princess Daughter Of The King
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Thursday, April 5, 2012

When Words Seem Few

My words here have been few of late.  I've been praying and seeking and waiting to hear from God.  It has seemed that He has been so silent for what has felt like forever.  I don't like it when He seems silent, for I need Him so much.  It's like a winter of sorts in my soul.

As much as I dislike seasons of quiet, these seasons remind me of what my life would be like without Him ever near.  I don't know how those who do not know Him survive.   His seeming quietness leaves me breathless and lonely, and as much as I despise this feeling, I certainly would not trade this; for these feelings point me to those whispers I have heard from Him throughout my days and I can cling tightly to those for comfort.  They push me to seek Him more. 

Reminiscing of times I have encountered His presence, heard His voice within, felt His tug upon my heart reminds me that He loves me. 

Passionately.  The evidence prohibits my denial of it.

As I've compared this season of quiet to others in my life, I realized that although each quiet season I have experienced was difficult, those seasons have been the times in which He has done His greatest writing upon this paper heart of mine. 

Yes, my words here have been few of late - but - I am not the only one who writes.  He writes too.

He writes my story. 

On my paper heart.

And He is writing it even now.

I became even more aware today that it has been in seasons of quiet that He has written out for me the most moving pages of the story of my life.  Moving, not because they are written about me, but moving because of the influence He had upon those pages.

I am learning that when He is quiet, He is writing.

Pages that will soon unfold for me to read and understand.

Oh, sure, He already knows my story from back to front and front to back.  Psalms 139:16 tells me "in Your book were all written the days that were ordained for me, When as yet there was not one of them."

But - I don't know that story yet.   He wants me to read it.

The word written in this verse comes from an original root word which means "to grave".  Grave as an action word is not one I commonly encounter, and as I looked up the definition to better understand it, the quiet no longer seemed so silent.  Check out how defines the verb grave:
1-dig, excavate
2-to carve or shape with a chisel:  sculpture
to carve or cut as letters into a hard surface
3-to impress or fix (as a thought) deeply
Those definitions describe exactly what it seems is going on in my family's life right now.  He is digging, He is carving - did you notice the part about the letters?  A story is made up of letters written on a page.  And He is definitely impressing, as it says, these days deeply upon my heart.

But, He isn't doing it because He doesn't know, He is doing it because I don't know.

Just as you do not know the path of the wind and how bones are formed in the womb of the pregnant woman, so you do not know the activity of God who makes all things.
Ecclesiates 11:5
No, I don't know what He is doing, what He is writing, but I know He writes, for I can look back upon the pages He has already given me and know He is there and trust that since He does not change, He is still there.

Pen in hand.

The ink dripping from its tip red.

Ink permanent and unchanging. 

Jesus, His Name written on every beautiful page.

As difficult as quiet seasons may be, I will continue to trust Him while He writes my story - for  I can trust Him because He authored the Greatest Story Ever Told.

What has He been writing on the pages of your life lately?  I would love for you to share those special words with me.

Royal Princess Daughter Of The King

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Wednesday, April 4, 2012

No More Dirty Laundry

Confession time - I am not a morning person.  Nope. Not a bit.  Since I am not, my morning routine to leave the house is very regimented, lest I self –destruct. Normally, the last thing I do before telling Todd goodbye, is to take the dirty clothes to the laundry room.

One day, I had gone through my usual morning schedule and it was time to head out for the day. I had my hands full in an attempt to make one trip from that end of the house to the laundry room instead of three, since the laundry room is right by the back door. I had empty hangers, a book, a dirty dish, dirty laundry, and who knows what else in my arms. I put up the hangers, put the dish in the dishwasher, stuffed the book in my purse, grabbed the door knob to step outside, and then realized I still had the dirty laundry in my arms. I had even went into the laundry room to hang up the hangers and not gotten rid of that laundry, it seemed perfectly natural for it to be in my arms.

Come visit me today over at Be The Domino, to read about all my dirty, or not-so-dirty laundry.....

Royal Princess Daughter Of The King

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