I write about life. Life can be hard, scary, beautiful, and surprising, but NEVER dull. I enjoy chronicling thoughts and events from my life. I see life as a sojourner, embracing all that life brings, but holding on to it lightly, for I am only passing through.
The memories from the past year are flooding my mind as of late. Not many of them are pleasant. Many of my thoughts linger on death and loss and endings. I find myself straining to look beyond this year, seeking the horizon of the next. I am looking for hope. I know that with the new year comes another 365 days and the possibilities of all the good that can come, and the hope that does not disappoint us.
It is somewhat miraculous that hope keeps coming year after year. I am amazed that my heart continues to believe in an ancient refrain,”I believe that I shall look upon the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.” Why have I not become bitter or angry or reclusive? Could it be the gifts in my life, which are plenty, my children, a loving husband, and a God fearing home? But these gifts cannot ward off the life daunting fears this world can bring.
About to listen to the Christmas Choral Concert, ending with the Hallelujah chorus.
There must be something more. These dissonant notes keep playing in my mind yet I find myself comforting others through my grief. Where does the strength come from to move past my own loss and feel the needs of another? The unsaid good-byes, the unanswered questions, the unending pain that hides behind the quiet moments of my days have not led me to despair. And I find myself perplexed as to how this inner calm has come.
I have been held by a strength not of this world that has come to dwell in me. The Savior of the world came to dwell with men to meet a dire need. He is more than the fulfillment of all our hopes and fears. He spoke and my world began. And He alone holds my world together still by the word of His death defeating, life bringing power. He is the One who will finish all that is left undone.
Chris and I finding a moment of joy and peace in the form of a song.
When the other worldly announcement of a god become flesh came bursting through the night sky, the world paused, and the lowly were lifted up. Sorrowful hearts stopped their searching. An answer had come to the cries for hope in a way that none could imagine.
The god man come to dwell with us, to taste our pain and know our sorrows, to feel the attacks and taunts so common to us all. But, the pain and death and loss of this world did not end on the night he came. The assault upon our souls continued then and it continues now. But, now! There is a breaking through. The end had not yet come, but the beginning of the end was made manifest.
And that is where we are. We are not at the end, but we are not at the beginning. We follow the path of the Coming One who has come and will come again. As our weary, cross carrying souls search for firm footing, we move from strength to strength through the Valley of Bacca. Finding that we are lost and orphaned no longer, our sadness turns into springs of life.
Christmas Eve and all of the anticipation that it brings.
All of the sadness that my mind could rehearse is overcome by a coming grace. In this hope of future grace I am grounded in the here and now. I solider on, looking ahead to the joys and hopes that await me in an everlasting city, where my Savior forever pleads for me, before a throne of grace.
May all of your hopes that are yet unseen be fulfilled in Him,
Your Fellow Sojourner
I leave you with the observations of a girl from another time and place.
“Aslan,” said Lucy, “you’re bigger.”
“That is because you are older, little one,” answered he.
“Not because you are?”
“I am not. But every year you grow, you will find me bigger.”~ C.S. Lewis’ Prince Caspian
When I was a girl I loved to build forts in the woods behind our house. I took special pride in picking up fallen trees and dragging them to the fort site. Our forts never seemed to take on the shape of the typical child’s fort, but became a sort of sprawling woodsy shantytown. To me they were hide aways that I could construct on my own. They were places where I could go and pretend, shutting out the world.
I was a trusting child who generally liked just about everybody. But when I hit the middle school years, I encountered meanness. Girls would corner me from time to time to make fun of my clothes or my hair. Boys would laugh at me for just about anything. Summer camp was an exercise in how to survive a week in a self proclaimed state of isolation, away from the girls who made me feel even more awkward.
My once outgoing and creative self was becoming quieter and quieter. Then there came a day when I decided to all but silence my gregarious self. And so I built a bunker.
The boys and their "fortifications".
I retreated within myself, becoming a quiet, shy follower. I wanted to be the one who was liked, not the one who was shunned. I lived in retreat from who I truly was; I lived to be liked, to be thought well of, and to be noticed. And over time, I forgot who I truly was.
As a result of these decisions I was unhappy and angry, anxious and unsure. I did things and made choices that went against my conscience, all so that I would not bring negative attention to myself or face rejection. I would do anything to not be alone.
From my 5th grade year until my 12th grade year I retreated into my self made bunker. It was not until after my high school years that a caring friend came along to call me out. This friend placed no expectations on me but to know me for who I truly was. He patiently waited outside for me. He lured me to the door of my bunker and then onto the threshold and eventually out into the light of day. He loved me humbly without any agenda.
I had walled myself off from real love, lasting growth, and a true understanding of who I was created to be. My friend, who eventually became my husband, made the decision to wait outside of my cement fortress and not give up. I will be forever thankful for a friend like him.
We who have come out of our bunkers need to be on the look out for others who have retreated into their own hardened worlds. We need to lead our anemic friends and loved ones to the One their souls can trust.
The kids at Cape Henlopen checking out WWII bunkers.
We all encounter unpleasantness outside of our bunkers. And so we must learn to find solace somewhere else. There is another secret place to which we can run.
I go to the Rock that is higher than any height my soul could attain on its own. I hide away in the rock hard safety of who God is, the Faithful One, and there I pour out my soul.
To talk to God about the hard things, my fears and my anxieties in life, is safe. It is in this place that I am reassured enough to walk out into the daylight again, confident in the truth of who I am in Him. This confidence comes from a renewed mind that sees life differently.
“If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth. For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God.” (Colossians 3:1-3 ESV)
I am hidden with Christ in God, therefore, I can live above and beyond my fears in this world. My eyes are not focused inward, nursing the pains I have felt; I have died to that old life. There is a new life that can be lived with purpose and peace in the midst of this painful world.
Long ago I exchanged Christ’s robes of righteousness for my own wretched filthy rags. This pure and perfect life that Christ lived, I can now call my own. It secures for me the ability to stand in the face of harsh unkindness. And when temptation comes for me to crawl back into that stale cement hole I constructed as a young person, I am reminded that that is not where my soul will thrive.
A secret garden we found in Chestertown.
Christ has shown me so much of Himself that I want nothing more of the deep dark shadows from my lonely past. He teaches me how to think and feel and live in spite of the cuts and abrasions I receive from others. It is to that secret place that I go and learn of Him who encompasses all my griefs and sorrows. All of the bunkers that I have, can, or ever will build have been broken on the cross of Jesus Christ.
Its good to be free.
~ Your Fellow Sojourner
“In the Secret of His Presence”
In the secret of His presence how my soul delights to hide!
Oh, how precious are the lessons which I learn at Jesus’ side!
Earthly cares can never vex me, neither trials lay me low;
For when Satan comes to tempt me, to the secret place I go,
To the secret place I go.
When my soul is faint and thirsty, ’neath the shadow of His wing
There is cool and pleasant shelter, and a fresh and crystal spring;
And my Savior rests beside me, as we hold communion sweet:
If I tried, I could not utter what He says when thus we meet,
What He says when thus we meet.
Only this I know: I tell Him all my doubts, my griefs and fears;
Oh, how patiently He listens! and my drooping soul He cheers:
Do you think He ne’er reproves me? What a false Friend He would be,
If He never, never told me of the sins which He must see,
Of the sins which He must see.
Would you like to know the sweetness of the secret of the Lord?
Go and hide beneath His shadow: this shall then be your reward;
And whene’er you leave the silence of that happy meeting place,
You must mind and bear the image of the Master in your face,
When I was a freshman in college, eight hours away from home and in a totally new environment, I took advantage of a rare opportunity. I attended a piano concert.
This was a very daring thing for me to do at the time. I was on a very strict budget, and just like middle school, you didn’t dare do much on campus unless you had a “bud” along with you. But, when I saw the poster of the well known pianist scheduled to play one of my favorite Beethoven pieces, I knew I had to go. I also knew that I would sit as close as I could, right in front of the pianist’s hands. I was going to go no matter what.
This was an exercise in great courage for me. I was fighting for my own identity, and I was losing more than I was winning. The young man I had thought I was going to marry had “unfriended” me, I went from being an A student to a meager C student, and I was lost in every way imaginable.
You know you’re low when some of your favorite times are mopping stairwells just so you can be alone to pray and sing and cry. God, in His providence, had taken away everything that had been a comfort to me. And I am so glad that He did.
I found myself living on the international floor of an old all girls’ dormitory, surrounded by missionary kids and students from all over the globe. Whining and complaining took on a whole new meaning for me there. How can you cry about a boyfriend when you know your room mate is the only Christian in her wealthy Japanese family, misunderstood, mocked, and left to her own loneliness? God surrounded me with people that knew what real suffering was like, and more than that, they could identify the lack of maturity in me. These young women could speak with great care and love. No “preaching” here. Only quiet grace and solid faith exhibited in the midst of trial and hardship. Nothing can shame you faster than when you see your friends that you know have already been persecuted for their beliefs, have love and compassion for you when you turn into a puddle of mush over stupid stuff.
So, on the night of the concert, I put on my usual Baltimore Symphony finery and bravely walked to the concert hall on my own. I opened the double doors and walked down front, sitting right in front of the keys on the left hand side of the stage. I irrationally felt like every eye was boring into my head and every tongue was whispering. “There’s that girl. She was dumped. She is so desperate. She is so far from home. So lost. So unwanted. Stay away from her.”
Our piano at home; one of my daughter's favorite places to be.
But, as the concert began and the notes that were so familiar to me filled the air, my soul began to soar. I closed my eyes, when I wasn’t watching the pianist’s hands, and took in every beautiful note. It was as if all of the love and strength that I needed poured into my being and a glimmer of hope began to grow. I remember wishing that the concert would just go on forever. That it would never stop. That I would never have to get up and walk out when it was all over. It did end however, and I did get up and walk out. But, I did not walk out alone. I saw one of my dear friends from that old girls’ dorm and she met me with a smile. We walked out into the night and I found that I was ok. I found that I could have hope and I could heal in ways that I did not think were possible. I found that facing your pain is easier when you have the notes of “The Appassionata” to guide you.
My faith was being tested and tried. I was on that all too familiar path we call sanctification. Being sanctified is hard. Everyone knows that becoming like Christ is not easy. It is hard work. No one wants to do it; it comes to you and you either resist or submit to where you are led. Often sanctifying comes through suffering. Suffering is never a friend we like to see come to the party. Everyone says, “Who invited him?” We are faced with a decision; will we be humbled or will we be hardened by the presence of suffering in our lives?
My daughter free rock climbing.
I vacillated between hardness and humility that year. But, my prayers were answered, and humility won out. No one likes to be humbled. You feel naked, laid out on the floor, too weak to move, but you just don’t care anymore. You have surrendered, and you have no more fight left in you, only pure surrender to the Healer of your soul. And that is where I found myself. Humbled and laid low. This was my first real taste of hardship and suffering. Bitter was the bud, but far sweeter was the flower. A new kind of blood was pumping through the veins of my faith. A new understanding that my faith must be built on nothing less than Christ.
I have tasted trials and sufferings in my life that compared to most would be minuscule, but to that timid eighteen year old girl would have been unthinkable. That eighteen year old girl began a journey down a road that few have chosen. She learned that there cannot be any glory without the pain.
Life can burn with a refining fire, but if I have learned anything about refining, I know that I do not want to be removed from its work. So, why? Why do I not want to leave the flames? Why am I not afraid of being burned, incinerated? Because Someone is with me in that fire, Someone who has already walked through the fire and come out on the other side. These fires must do their work so that we can come out “like silver refined in a furnace, purified seven times.” Ps. 12:6 When the impurities are burned away, we come out different, clearer, changed. In those refining fires there is a sweet mercy that overwhelms and quiets my soul. I did not say there is no pain. But there is a glory that far outweighs the pain, a pain that can be forgotten in the presence of a Savior. C.S. Lewis has said, “Mortals misunderstand. They say of some temporal suffering,”No future bliss can make up for it,” not knowing that Heaven, once attained, will work backwards and turn even that agony into a glory.”
My children learning to follow a trail.
When the crushing blows of life come again and again, I cry. I ask why. I wish I did not have to feel the pain. But my mind returns to those moments when God has provided a song for my soul to sing and I become like that eighteen year old girl again. I remember being changed from that shy timid girl into the one who could laugh and smile through adversity. For, if the soul would not be consumed in the fires of life’s pain, than it must be purified by the Master artist of man’s souls. And once purified in the greatest places of pain, the soul can sing. It is then that the agony becomes a song of glory.
May your soul find the most glorious of songs to sing,
Your Fellow Sojourner
Psalm 66
Shout for joy to God, all the earth;
sing the glory of his name;
give to him glorious praise!
Say to God, “How awesome are your deeds!
So great is your power that your enemies come cringing to you.
All the earth worships you
and sings praises to you;
they sing praises to your name.” Selah
Come and see what God has done:
he is awesome in his deeds toward the children of man.
He turned the sea into dry land;
they passed through the river on foot.
There did we rejoice in him,
who rules by his might forever,
whose eyes keep watch on the nations—
let not the rebellious exalt themselves. Selah
Bless our God, O peoples;
let the sound of his praise be heard,
who has kept our soul among the living
and has not let our feet slip.
For you, O God, have tested us;
you have tried us as silver is tried.
You brought us into the net;
you laid a crushing burden on our backs;
you let men ride over our heads;
we went through fire and through water;
yet you have brought us out to a place of abundance.
I will come into your house with burnt offerings;
I will perform my vows to you,
that which my lips uttered
and my mouth promised when I was in trouble.
I will offer to you burnt offerings of fattened animals,
Every summer morning that I spent at my grandparents’ home was marked by a common scenario. I would sneak into my grandparents’ family room and sit on the couch right across from their Goliath of a television set, and wait. I waited for one thing in particular, my grandmother’s entrance into the kitchen. This always meant two things. First, she would always ask what I wanted for breakfast and secondly, that was the understood signal that yes, I could turn the television on. Sometimes however, if I had awoken too early, I would go to my grandmother’s pantry, open the door, and just take in the aroma. Still to this day, there is nothing like the smell of Golden Grahams and Bran Flakes, heaven.
My grandmother reading to one of the twins.
As I would await my grandmother’s entrance, I always seemed to forget that I often encountered someone else on those mornings. I would hear a slight foot fall in the foyer and then hear the coat closet door open. After taking down his choice of hat for the day, my grandfather would come around the corner. With a look of surprise on his face he would ask, “Katie, is that you?”
“Yes, Pop Pop.”
“Now, what are you doing up so early, Katie?” And he would have a smile from ear to ear. No matter where he was headed, he would stop and chat with me before heading out the door. Sometimes he would head to the garden, sometimes the church, and sometimes out on an errand. Then a few hours later, I would see him come back into the kitchen long after we had had our breakfast of waffles or pancakes or cereal. This was my cue to pull up a chair to the little table at the end of the galley kitchen. I loved to sit across from my Pop Pop, just to watch him eat. A bowl of fresh cantaloupe, a piece of toast he would care fully spread with apple butter, and a jelly jar of milk or juice was a standby for him. He would just let me sit there and stare at him. And to me it was one of the most beautiful conversations I ever had as a child.
I also noticed that if I had done something I shouldn’t have, I would feel guilt about it at those moments. Not because my grandfather would ever scold me, but because he lived such a pure life. I knew he wasted nothing, not his time nor his resources nor his words. I wanted to be like him in that way. And so, if I had wasted anything, I had a tinge of guilt. I would purpose to get up early like him and be productive and not wasteful. After my grandfather had had his breakfast he would be on his way, on to the next thing in his day. And I would be onto mine.
My grandfather passing on the game of chess.
I always knew the times and places I would see my grandfather. He was always there and he never hurried away. He was constant in his work and faithful with his time. Any time I would talk with him he always listened. He would nod his head and have a twinkle in his eye and say, “Well now, Katie…” And I loved him, because he was just like a farmer should be. And so, that is what I always thought him to be.
He had left his Kentucky boyhood farm for Washington D.C. to care and shepherd a family. And by the time I came along, he was only a few years from retirement. I don’t remember him as a working man, but as a dutiful man who watched over his household. He would tell me about his fruit trees and his bean plants and his cantaloupes. And to me, his big garden and little orchard was a full fledged farm! But, he cared for me and my grandmother and my mother and everyone else in my family in the most important ways he could have. He lived what he believed with pure faith. He prayed like no one I have ever heard. He sounded like a pilgrim to me, addressing his Lord and Master with thees and thous. To eat before that prayer would have been unthinkable. I would savor each word of his simple mealtime prayers.
And Sundays were like no other day of the week. He was dressed in a tie and sitting in front of his radio by the time I was out in my Sunday dress. He would have his Sunday School lesson in his lap as he listened to those old gospel bluegrass quartets. I knew that when he had gotten up out of that chair that it was time to go to church. He waited for no one - we always seemed to roll in at the end of Sunday School and find him there later.
I imagined my grandfather on the morning of his departure from this earth as a young man walking through a field. Eyes steadfast on what lied ahead of him, hands stretched out over fields of wheat or barley. Eyes twinkling with the prospect of tending another living thing and to watch it grow. I smiled through tears of joy.
Me attempting to garden this past spring.
You see, my grandfather will always be a farmer, for the farmer is a watchman first and foremost. A farmer will watch and wait and plot and plan and dream and pray over what has been entrusted to his care. And now I understand why my grandfather always asked me what I would be growing each year. I hated to disappoint him with my answers. Nothing, or a few tomato plants and squash. But, now when I hear him asking me that same question, it has a far deeper meaning. “Well, what are you and Chris planning on growing this year?” And I want to tell him that we will be planning a garden full of plants that need a lot of tender care. They will need good food and water, sun and air. They will need shelter and time. Time and the opportunity to grow in the way they were intended to grow.
We want to invest in the souls that God has placed in our care and hope to raise them with just a hint of the faithful watchfulness that my grandfather had for all of us. This year, we will look to our fields, put our hands to the plow, and like my grandfather, we hope to never look back.
~ Your Fellow Sojourner
"In the Sweet By and By"
by Sanford Fillmore Bennett
There's a land that is fairer than day, and by faith we can see it afar; for the Father waits over the way to prepare us a dwelling place there.
Refrain: In the sweet by and by, we shall meet on that beautiful shore; in the sweet by and by, we shall meet on that beautiful shore.
2 We shall sing on that beautiful shore the melodious songs of the blest, and our spirits shall sorrow no more, not a sigh for the blessing of rest. [Refrain]
3 To our bountiful Father above, we will offer our tribute of praise for the glorious gift of His love, and the blessings that hallow our days. [Refrain]
We all tell
ourselves that we can’t possibly “do it all”, yet we still try to overcome the
odds. And if you are a stay at home, mother
of five, homeschooler, and married to a bi-vocational pastor… well, you are always trying to “beat the odds”. And
then we throw in Christmas, New Years, and Birthdays all in one week.
Things like the power going out, a
super tight budget, and sickness don’t help and can even cause complete break
down in “the system”. However, I thought
we were doing pretty well this year, that we were in fact “beating the odds”. We were moving right along, even if Chris and
I were pulling late night after late night.
Then yesterday morning, the morning of yet another packed day, I did not
feel well.
I finally waved the white flag after
our church service and told Chris to take me home. I would not be able to be a part of the next
two gatherings scheduled for the day. I
fought with the “should I just push myself and see” thoughts. I prayed, asked
Chris, and knew the smart thing was to stay home.
Winston, Elias, and Liam on Christmas Eve 2014.
At first I was relieved. I could rest in some peace and quiet and hope
to bounce back quickly. But then, in an
empty house surrounded by piles of clothes, unwrapped gifts, toys, and a less
than satisfactory kitchen, my mind started to roam.
I ended up lying down to read and then closing
my eyes after I couldn’t read anymore.
As I closed my eyes I became agitated and couldn’t sleep. My mind would not rest. I thought of all the things to do and all of
the people to see and all that will shortly resume.
As I was lying in bed on a Sunday afternoon, what
bothered me the most was missing the people.
What would they think? I am
surely letting them down and I don’t want to hurt anyone. I realized after a little while of thinking
through all of this that my heart was pounding.
I had worked myself up so much that I was experiencing an anxious heart,
literally.
I stopped myself and
placed my hand on my heart and felt the fast pounding. I made myself breathe slowly, in and out (thank
you natural child birth classes) and began taking hold of my mind, speaking
to myself.
I said, wait a minute hear, I am being
physically affected by these worries and concerns. This is not right. What am I so worked up about? The
people, I don’t want to let them down.
Really, Katie, is that all? No, I don’t want anyone to reject me; I want
everyone to like me. I want to walk into
a room and know that I am ok with everyone in it – no fear and no anxiety with
any relationship. So, this is THE
most important thing to you right now? Yes, I guess it is and that is not right. Then I started speaking the truth that supersedes
all lies.
I am fully accepted in the beloved. He loves me enough to die for me and keeps my
reputation. I do not want to fear man
more than fearing the One who made me, who knows my heart and mind. I want to love people with no strings
attached. And I know that if my
motivation for going to see people is to make them happy so that I am accepted
and thought well of in return, than that is not real Christ like love. That mind set is only a selfish love that
seeks to control and manipulate. I feel
the seeds of this selfishness growing in my heart. Forgive me, Lord. Help me to let this go.
I felt my heart again –
totally calm. No more anxious
pounding. It was gone; and I was not
tossing and turning anymore. As I lay
there I asked out loud, “Then what should I do now?” The answer came in the words from a friend.
Jackson and Bella light Christmas Eve candles.
Just that morning, a dear friend of mine
stopped me in conversation, looked me in the eye, and said, “Ask the Lord what
He wants you to do and do it. Find out
His will and do that.” It was almost like she was saying, “Here, I found this truth
and thought you might could use it.”
Yes,
I can use that! “Anxiety in a man's heart weighs him down,
but a good word makes him glad.” Proverbs
12:25 ESV I should have listened while my friend was
speaking this morning, but the words came back to me at that particular moment
on my bed and they were like healing words to my soul.
In reading about people
who survive great trials and live through extreme circumstances, most have
something in common. They remembered
something that they were taught through a prior experience, or remembered
something they had read or seen or heard that helped them to make it, to
live.
The soul is alive and
real and needs to be fed good, real food just as a physical body needs good
nutrition. Without good truth to chew
and meditate on, the soul wanders like mine did, to easy irrational thoughts
that can steer a person’s mind to unsafe and treacherous waters.
Pride is the great enemy of the soul. I find that I can easily tell myself that I
don’t need as much truth, that I don’t need to listen to good counsel, that I
don’t need to avoid certain kinds of input because surely I know better and I
will be fine. But, the enemies of our
souls are real and they will attack.
So, I rested for a
while longer, and woke up with a new frame of mind. I was at peace knowing that God was there
with me and hears me and knows me. He loves me and loves my family and my
friends. I purposed then to go
slowly and thoughtfully through the next few weeks.
As
I turn over the calendar to the next year, I want to seek Him more. I want to
be still and listen, to walk in His will and leave anxiety behind. I do not want to be like King Asa, who when
warned, did not listen, and did not seek the Lord with his whole heart. He became angry and hurtful toward others
because he relied on men. (II Chronicles
15-16)
I will falter. I will take my eyes off of the truth. I will be swayed by my feelings and my
thoughts. But, I have One who will meet
me in the moments when I stray, and just like the word from a friend helped to
steady me, He will bring me back.
The
key here, remain humble. We need to know
that we don’t know it all. We are wrong a lot, and we need to be
teachable.
My sisters and me at Christmas.
Paul,
that “super apostle”, said that God permitted him to “have a thorn in his
flesh” so that he would not become conceited.
Ok, that’s harsh, but it makes sense to me. There is nothing like something "prickly" to get our attention. And
what is even better is what God said to Paul when the apostle had his moments
of heart pounding anxiety. “He said to me,“My grace is sufficient for you, formy power is made perfect in weakness.”Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my
weaknesses, so thatthe power of
Christ may rest upon me.For the
sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships,
persecutions, and calamities. Forwhen I am
weak, then I am strong.” And that good
word makes my often sorrowful soul, glad.
May you find
His power in all your weaknesses this
year, Your Fellow Sojourner
