Beautiful Praise

 

There is a young lady who attends every choir practice we have. She doesn’t sing in the choir, and she doesn’t play an instrument. She just sits on the pew throughout the entire rehearsal; yet, she gives beautiful praise. Rebecca is always smiling, or if she’s not smiling, her countenance is always pleasant, and when the worship music begins, you can glance her way and know that her face will be turned heavenward, and her hands will be reaching to the sky. She may not be focused on the particular notes of the song; she may not be able to perform with the singers on stage, and she may not even mouth the words which are projected on the screen. However, by the look on her face, you can rest assured she is offering praise to her King. You see, Rebecca is a 28 year old who has special needs. She serves as a greeter, and she has the most beautiful countenance of just about anyone I know!

She is very dedicated to her responsibilities, even to the point of asking her mom first thing on Monday morning, “Mom, where is my name tag for church? I have to have it for Sunday.” She anxiously awaits Sunday service all throughout the week and just cannot wait to arrive to worship her God. To me, that is beautiful praise! Often, as I stand in the choir loft gazing over the pews, and I see her lifting her offering of adoration, it simply takes my breath away. She challenges my thoughts. She confronts my apathy. She provokes my faith.

Could you imagine if we, those of us who call ourselves Christians, were so anxious to get to church that we starting thinking about and planning it out on Monday morning? Could you imagine if we waited, with bated breath, to return to the House of God in order to lift our hands and sing adoration to our Lord? Could you imagine if all we wanted to do in the week was give a beautiful offering of praise to Him? Could you just imagine?? I mean, what if our churches were consumed with more praise and less passivity? What if our pews were filled with more upraised hands and less downturned mouths? What if?? …It might just cause a revolution!

Forgive me, please, if I sound a little confrontational. She has simply sparked a flame within my soul, a desire to be more than who I am today. She has invoked inside of me a longing to be unchained, uninhibited, maybe even a little undignified. In this modern age, when the culture screams at Christians to keep quiet, to back away, to remove themselves from any type of position of boldness on the subject, she has dared my faith to stand a little taller. She has inspired my heart to shout much louder than it ever has before.

Rebecca may not have all the capabilities which some in this world declare you must have in order to survive among the “culturally elite.” She may not be able to do everything that even she would like to do during her lifetime. She may not appear to be the person you assume she should be; however, I think she is absolutely beautiful, and her praise is simply breathtaking! She challenges me to worship more, to reach more, to be more. I hope and pray that I might be more like her with each new day, and one day soon, when I see Jesus face to face, I can hear Him say what I believe He would say to her: “You gave such beautiful praise. It was simply breathtaking. Well done, and thank you.”

Bleeding Heart

           My heart is bleeding from the violence I see.

                 Babies are crying; mothers lying in the streets.

                    Children are running; men fighting their way through.

                       My body is aching from the violence I see.

                          Women are screaming; lovers denying their peace.

                             Fathers are falling; teens pleading for their release.

 

                              My heart is bleeding from this violence I see.

                                       Sisters shrieking; infants dying in the womb.

                                          Brothers are climbing, elders yearning no more to be.

                                             My soul is aching from this violence I see.

                                                Grandfathers are groaning; toddlers crippled by the brew.

                                                   Grandmothers are stumbling; guardians shielding not the least.

 

                                       My heart is bleeding from this violence I see.

Penned – 10/26/03 – MG

All Set To Fly

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I watched as my 12 year old walked into school the first day of seventh grade. He had on his favorite shoes, his uniform shorts and shirt; his laptop strapped across his back, and his wheeled backpack handle tight within his grasp. As I looked on, I saw a young man entering that building full of confidence and dreams. I realized in that moment, I could have just as easily have been watching him board an international airline destined for the other side of the world.

He is growing up so very fast. The past two years have seemed quite like a whirlwind…maybe more accurately, a hurricane. Don’t misunderstand these have been wonderful years full of fun, wonder, excitement, adventures, questions, dreams and, yes, maybe a few tears…of course, those have probably been more from my eyes than anyone else’s! Yet, it still feels like a hurricane when I think of how fast the time has gone by. Our years with him are so very short! They just seem to slip by, as if each one is a tiny grain of sand, sliding through my fingertips, and we don’t ever get those years back. Once they’re gone, they’re gone forever, and we’re simply left with the cherished memories we made or the aching regret of what has vanished.

So, I will continue to treasure the minutes I have with him. I will open my eyes to see the valiant man he is becoming and remember the boyhood hero he once was. I will open my ears to hear the heart of a dreamer with goals and visions of tomorrow, and I will reminisce of the childhood imaginations that brought him here. I will release him to live, to dream, to become as I clutch tightly the memoirs of the little boy who came to be.

One day soon, he will fly far, far away……I pray he will remember to look back and wave……my heart aches…

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Who Will Cry for the Children?

Who will cry for the children?

They cry out in anguish

They cry out in pain

 

Who will cry for the children?

They play in the streets

They fall in the rain

 

Who will fight for the children?

They fight for their freedom

They fight for their life

 

Who will fight for the children?

They run into fears

They run into strife

 

Who will pray for the children?

They pray for the answers

They pray for the love

 

Who will pray for the children?

They seek out the Light

They seek out the Truth above

 

Will you be the one to reach them?

Will you be the one to pray for them?

Will you be the one to fight, to cry, to bleed?

 

penned 1/26/04 – MG

 

I’m In The Shadow

Here is my wall

It covers my heart

It protects me from pain

Or so I imagine

I’m in the shadow

 

Here is my shell

It covers my eyes

It protects me from anger

Or so I believe

I’m in the shadow

 

Here is my barrier

It covers my ears

It protects me from fear

Or so I declare

I’m in the shadow

 

Here is my shield

It covers my hands

It protects me from violence

Or so I’ve conceived

I’m in the shadow

 

Here is my smile

It covers my face

It protects me from truth

Or so I contemplate

I’m in the shadow

 

Here is His joy

It covers my mind

It protects me from lies

This I know

I’m in His Shadow

 

Here is His kindness

It covers my hands

It protects me from malice

This I know

I’m in His shadow

 

Here is His peace

It covers my ears

It protects me from the unknown

This I know

I’m in His shadow

 

 

 

Mighty Man of Valor

My husband and I have a running joke that we each get “hit on” about once every 5-10 years, and even then, “the hit” is by someone who is either inebriated or just REALLY scary! Well, today was my day…my official “come on” from the opposite sex happened, and I was driving down the road in a golf cart with my two boys! LOL. If that wasn’t funny enough, the guy was standing on the side of the road pointing at me, then giving the universal sign for “call me.” It was so comical, I almost busted out laughing as we drove by him. However, what happen next, brought pride to my heart and tears to my eyes. We drove on, and my 12 year old son said, “Mom, if I find that guy, I’m gonna kill him.” We pulled into the Dollar General, as I said, “No, son, there’s no need to kill him. If a man’s gonna hit on a woman over 40 with her two kids on board, he’s gotta be incredibly desperate! But I do thank you for the honor.” We parked, and I started toward the door; however, when I turned to make sure both boys were with me, I realized my oldest child had walked the other way, crossed the side street, and was looking down the highway, looking for that man. I proceeded to call for him to come back and join me, but his valiant gesture, at protecting my honor, still makes me teary-eyed as I write this tonight.
He may be young, and as he’s growing into a teenager, we may have days when we struggle in our child-to-adult relationship, one which is quickly evolving into the much needed adult-to-adult relationship, but he is still a mighty man of valor. He has a code of honor to which he believes every man should uphold, and if that man does not, he is appalled and demands to know why! He believes in God, family and country (in that order), and can’t imagine why someone wouldn’t. He aspires for great things in life, and believes he will achieve them, as well, he trusts anyone can reach their dreams if they will but try. He may be young, but his heart is valiant. I am so proud to call him my son, and I pray there will rise a generation just like him.

You See Me

I stumble through the daily routines

Striving to make ends meet

Struggling to make the difference

I feel as if no one sees

Yet You see me

 

I walk down the streets in silence

The cars race on frantically

The people hurry from here to there

I feel as if no one cares

Yet You care for me

 

I come into the sanctuary

The music is a peaceful melody

The light from stained glass glows

I feel as if no one hears

Yet You hear me

 

I step into Your Holy Place

The air is thick with Your presence

The floor is worn from the tears

I feel as if no one knows

Yet You know me

 

You know the very depths of me

You know my rising and my falling

You hear my cries and my shout

You hear y faith and my doubt

You care for my pain and my joy

You care for my past and my tomorrow

You see my tears and my smile

You see my awe and my wonder

 

It was never that You didn’t see me;

it was always that I couldn’t see You.

It was never that You didn’t care for me;

it was always that I was unaware of You.

It was never that You didn’t hear me;

it was always that I couldn’t hear You.

It was never that You didn’t know me;

it was always that I had no knowledge of You.

 

penned 8/7/04 – MG

 

We Do Loud…Really Well.

"Arggggg, Matey!"

“Arggggg, Matey!”

Have you ever had that moment when you notice how really different your kids can be from another child? Last night, I was reminded…once again. We went to this cool dockside restaurant with some old friends. We don’t get to see each other often, but our kids love to play together. The restaurant had a really neat play area out front, complete with a pirate and pirate ship; so, as we were leaving, we decided to let our kids play. Our kids were “wide open,” having a blast. They were running, screaming, “walking the plank,” chasing one another, and being very loud “pirates.” In the midst of this chaos, there stood a very petite, shy little girl, maybe about five or six years old. She seemed very intrigued by all the festivities; however, by the facial expressions, her grandmother didn’t seem so amused. She looked as if she might just lose her mind; she appeared very amazed, and even alarmed, that children could actually get excited and speak above a whisper.

Now, please, don’t get the wrong impression, our kids were not being rude, nor were they invading this young girl’s space, and this was going on outside, not around a lot of people. In fact, there wasn’t anyone else around at the moment, or I would have definitely put a stop to their lively activities. Even so, the difference between this meek, timid little girl and our loud, rambunctious brood was like the plundering pirates and the delicate handmaiden. It was quite the contrast. This contrast continued as we went to our car, too, because this other family just happened to be parked right beside us…

Our boys were “sword fighting” all the way to our vehicle while this little trio of daughter, mother and grandmother walked quietly and peacefully to theirs…with the grandmother still looking shocked and appalled, and I’m assuming, by the expressions, the commentary she was giving her daughter was anything but pleasant. Once we were in our car, with the doors shut, I just had to laugh, and say, “Well, we DO have boys, and we do loud REALLY well!”

You see to me, it’s okay if your child is really quiet, really loud, really silly or really serious. They are all made different, and each home should run differently. What works for my home may not work for yours, and that’s ok! I don’t expect your kids to be like mine, and I don’t want mine to be like yours. I believe each child should be encouraged to be who God had created him or her to be. We don’t know what the future holds for each of them, but each one has a unique purpose in this life, and often, that little (or big!) personality he or she was designed specifically for that special purpose. There will be moments when they all will need to be quiet, listening and observing, and there will be other moments when they will need to take charge, speaking out and standing up for their given cause. So, “Play on,” I say! No matter if your play is rowdy and loud, or if it’s gentle and quiet. You have a place on this playground of life. Find it, and enjoy it, while also, appreciating the method in which others play. You never know when you’ll need to be those plundering pirates who raid the enemy’s ships or that gentle maidservant who wins the heart of a king! Play on!

In Perspective

My eight year old was looking for opportunities to make some money; so, I told him he could fold the two baskets of towels in the laundry room. He enthusiastically agreed. Before he left the room, I reminded him of how we fold them; so, they would fit nicely on the shelves… “Remember to fold them end to end, end to end again, then, fold over twice.” (similar to many hotel styles) He skipped out of the room, excited about the bit of cash that would soon be lining his pocket. I was in the middle of setting up my new blog, and I knew it would be good to go in and supervise, or at least “check his work;” however, I casually thought, “Well, he’s done it before. It’ll be fine; I’m sure.”  A little while later, he moved onto something else, and I walked downstairs to fix dinner..the loads of laundry forgotten for the evening. The next morning, I entered the laundry room to finish the (thought to be) forgotten pile of towels. To my surprise, all the bath and beach towels were stacked and folded, just as I had instructed my son to do…well, each one was definitely folded and stacked; however, the stack wasn’t quite what I had expected (See pics!). You see, my sweet little boy had folded each towel “end to end (2x) and then tri-folded;” yet, depending on where you start the very first fold, this will determine how the towels will look when you are finished…
This caused me to start thinking about how we all have so many different perspectives and expectations.  Together, we all travel this road called life. Some places are rocky; some are smooth. There are mountain top experiences, and there are valleys. We will all encounter days of sunshine, days of lightning and rain and even days of scorching heat or a refreshing mist. Yet, where we end up in this journey will ultimately depend upon our perspective of the events that occur. If we face the journey with hope of our eternal destination; the days don’t seem so long, and the seasons seem more like a passing summer shower rather than a hopeless natural disaster. Having a positive outlook on life doesn’t mean we have to be blind to reality, painting a mask of imagination and fantasy. It simply means we hold onto hope that life is more than what we encounter down here.
Life is more than compact calendars, exploited agendas, failed achievements and achieved failures. Life is more than petty arguments, offenses and conflicts. Life is all about the moments when we truly live, when we actually impact the lives around us. It is about the destination we have in Christ, and how many people reach that destination with us. It’s about reaching out to someone more in need than we are. It’s about providing the comfort or the encouraging word to help our fellow man just make it through another day. Life is about more than what we see, and, often, more than what we care to take notice. Life is all about perspective. If we have the right perspective of things, the world will take on a whole different view in our eyes. With this new “mini revelation,” I looked differently at that stack of bath and beach towels. They were no longer seen as a mismatched, disheveled stack of towels that I would desperately need to refold, but rather, a stack of creatively corrugated towels which were folded by my precious, entrepreneur son whom I will only have around for another few short years! … It’s always great to see things with a new perspective.

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He Is All You Need

sunset-lake

The day is dawning; your heart is breaking; the sun bursts through the clouds.

He is speaking your name; yet, you refuse to hear.

You begin your day with cute little answers, a quoted little word.

You try to pretend you are drawing near.

 

The morning is moving; your heart is aching; the children are skipping to school.

He is calling out to you; yet, you refuse to care.

You continue your way, filling every moment with worry and regret.

You try to pretend all this you can bear.

 

The sun is setting; your heart is longing; the families are gathering around.

He is shouting across the chasm; yet, you refuse to yield.

You allow the cares of life to consume you, supplying your fleshly desires.

You try to pretend all your dreams are fulfilled.

 

The night is falling; your heart is bleeding; the stars are shining through.

He whispers your name; yet, you refuse to heed.

You end your life with a flick of a shot, never seeing His outstretched hand.

You tried to pretend He’s not all that you need.

 

penned 9/11/04 – MG