The language of Heaven

All my brokenness is a whisper that I don’t belong, and every time I don’t feel like I belong, the Scarred and Rejected God whispers, “Come here, my beloved.”

-Ann Voskamp

And suddenly its June again. Its raining. And its cold. But I can hear this magical sound, and I'm inspired again.

The past few months of illness and family and Church and work, play and sun have unravelled messily behind us, distant and blurry because of the pace we move at. Winter has settled down to stay here, down near the bottom of mainland Australia. We can light fires and drink more tea, make things with yarn and snuggle. But its still a challenge.

My beautiful friend Dee has pointed me to a place of joy lately and while I'm sure I'm probably the last one to find it, it is most definitely the right time for me to have 'a holy experience' on this crazy world of online distractions. My Maisy and I lay and listened to the beautiful music of David Nevue and both fell in love with the sound. An hour before I'd been touched by Ann's words and her little corner of joy and grace, her focus on Jesus.

{from this post}

So we bought the album, and I signed up to read when I can, it brings me back to a place where can drink in the beauty in my day and in the very place I am at, weary and clinging on, often hanging out for sleep time, and really truly it opens my heart to see some of the beauty of Jesus.

Lately my brief daily snippets of Spurgeon wisdom have nudged me, and the women who I meet in our community group have reminded me, and the Spirit is so gentle but persistent when He tells me that I must make time to be with God, to hear each day of grace that rescues a heart like mine and love that waits and stays and reaches out.

Its amazing how small life can get when we are missing that external thing that is bigger and greater than us. That thing that takes our eyes off ourselves and our family and our own pleasures or distractions. The seasons around us change gradually but yet so quickly and when the summer nights are steamy and blanket-less we can't imagine ever needing socks or electric blankets. I cannot imagine here in my warm bed in the middle of June, the feeling of a starved belly or no place to rest. I'm distracted by the list of things that need doing in my big house, the washing and the cooking, the endless cleaning and improving. Simple gratitude is crowded out by our need to do and to consume. We are small and our lives are so completely fragile in the eyes of a Creator who sees all. And when we are always looking down, the parameters of our hearts close in a little tighter and we miss joy and real beauty, and yes even as believers we miss the glory and grace of Jesus.

I am grateful that despite my semi-blindness I still see bits of beauty in my day, that I feel joy when a friend speaks of the smallest of gifts from above that are actually giant when seen through uplifted eyes. After a long, sick, low, frustrated day I might just want to curl up and wait for sleep time and the hope of new mercies tomorrow but tonight my family spur one another on amidst grumbles and bouts of frustrations at lost shoes and scratchy scarves to walk the dog in the dark under the fresh night sky. And the ten minutes of breathing and literally looking up together makes the day's disappointments fall away. He is in control. And I'm not meant to understand it.

So what pulls on my very being and what I seek to do often is to be quiet and still. Because my real home is waiting for me in Heaven, and my body tells me daily that I don't belong here, most especially in winter, I have to keep on learning to speak the language of Heaven.

xoxo

When heaven is really your motherland, then prayer is really your mother tongue, and you can’t help but yearn to speak in the language of your Father now.

-Ann Voskamp

Hope that does not disappoint

Tomorrow is the last day of school for our Malya Hope (for the term).  Its also my last CRE class and it is the day before Good Friday when everyone heads off for a long weekend, lots of chocolate, hot cross buns and usually family time.  

When I was pregnant with Malya (pronounced May-ah, silent 'l') I was extremely unwell and spent a good deal of the nine months in bed or in a wheelchair. It was, at times a dark time for me. It ended in such joy of course when our darling was born, but it was really tough even for months after the birth.  The entire time I held solely on to the hope I have in my Saviour, the hope I have for now and for ever and I had a constant feeling of joy amidst my suffering because of it. So Hope is her middle name and hope continues to fuel my faith and my life as she is about to turn 8!

According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead,  to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, 1 Peter 1:3

Tomorrow I'l recap the historical story of Jesus, the Creator, suffering and dying on a cross 2000 odd year ago and being raised to life for the grade 3's at Malya's school. I'll have 30 minutes to share the reason we have an Easter holiday with each class which for most of them will be the only mention of Jesus in their lives until the next RE class.  I realise this is a huge privilege and that many do not agree with CRE in schools and the weight of this responsibility feels heavy at times. My greatest responsibility is to God, to show up and to teach well and to share the hope found only in Him.  But I also have a responsibility to the school and the parents to be respectful of the differing backgrounds of each student. Of course I make it fun and simplify the concepts of Sin and Propitiation and Forgiveness to help the eager listeners understand. And there just might be some eggs hidden in my bag for the end of class for all of them (including the small handful who don't take part in CRE).

In our family we spend Easter focusing more than usual on the saving grace of Jesus and in the hope that does not disappoint. We eat hot cross buns on Friday and lots of chocolate on Sunday and we spend time together and laugh a lot. We go to church at least once, not because we have to or to feel better about ourselves, but to gather together with our extended family, our friends and likeminded believers to give thanks and give our hearts to Him who is and was and is to come.  He who loved us as imperfect and helpless as we are enough to take all of it and die miserably so that we can live!

This is a great article to read on the history of Easter bunnies (what have they got to do with Jesus?)

A friend wrote  this on her facebook page an hour ago and I 'LIKE' it very much -

'Here's the thing: it's nearly Easter, and the story is not about a bunny. Today I read the following quote, and am compelled to share it. As is the chronic shortcoming of text, my tone here is not apparent, so let me tell you before you read it, it is earnest desperate beseeching longing imploring with heart brimful with love:

"If Jesus is Lord of the universe, and his resurrection proves that he is, and he is not Lord of your life, who do you think will win in the end?"

-Unknown'

xoxo

Thoughts for a New Year

source

Each year between Christmas and New Year I end up in a bit of a funk, a post-christmas haze.  Its more than being unwell as I recover from the the long intense lead up to the 25^th. It’s a definite lingering gloomy feeling, almost of dread.  I’m absolutely certain its not a prolonged hangover, …….I don’t drink.

Its worse this year as we are not off camping as usual and we are still living out of suitcases.  To top things off Blake is back at work already.  The school holidays seem to loom ahead of us like the second half of a long winter.  My energy levels are at an all time low and I wonder how we’ll get through.

...one lonely crochet ball...

Thankfully, although it seems endless, the funk doesn’t last . I do eventually feel better  with sleep and rest and consequently my mood lifts in time for the start of a new year.  Physical and mental health are so closely linked.  It takes a huge amount of courage to keep going when you are faced with either one letting you down, though I wonder if poor mental health isn’t harder to bear in the end? 

 For us the 2013 is full of HOPE, as every year is.  We will have one little one in grade 3 and one at Kindy, my last year with her at my side. I’ll teach RE for one more year and Blake has some big building contracts lined up (once our own abode is habitable!).  I’ll probably mention wanting another child for a few days each month and Blake will shake his head and remind me how sick pregnancy makes me and it’ll get easier each time to forget about and instead be grateful for our beautiful girls, as I am daily. 

We’ll open our home up again to the kids who walk past with our 7 year old before and after school or the ones who live nearby. There’ll be more room to play inside and our girls will be even more ‘free-range’ than last year as they grow in confidence and I loosen the already fairly lax constraints.  

Apart from having a ‘new home’ to finish and move into this coming year we’ll also be heading off on an adventure with a new church plant.  A small number of us have been waiting for this for at least two years. Its finally beginning. Its exciting and scary. And totally in God’s hands.

AND

Blake and I will celebrate 10 years of marriage in May, and we plan to celebrate in style! I’ll be sure to share details.

...his and mine...

There’ll be a new bunch of kids born at the farm, we’ll go camping and possibly fly to Cairns for our annual visit.  I’ll consider finishing my School Chaplaincy study and probably leave it until the littlest is at school, we will make new friends and spend time with old ones.

And another year will fly by.

If I can stop often enough and for long enough to reflect and plan and mostly just ‘be’ I know it will go a teeny bit slower :)

Happy New Year my friends!

xoxo