A New Song

One of the comfortable places for me used to be behind a microphone, singing praises to our Lord, with my mom and family watching. I've been so incredibly blessed to be born into a family of singers. The little church where we attended had chairs set up in the back of the sanctuary. Usually eight, but when our friends sat with us, we would have 15-20 set up. We sat so close together that I could hear everyone's voice. My parents, though they would have never admitted it, have awesome voices. Mom was an alto, my dad a nice tenor. My sisters and I stole the show, but my brother could carry a tune too....although we still kid him about that one and only solo he did...

Years later, as The Lord allowed, I fell in love with a man who loves music just as much, if not more than I do. We have a talented little family....our 1 and 3 year olds can scream on the same note....and clap in beat!

My mom kept me singing. When life would take me down different paths, she was constant encouragement. She believed in the song I sang. My voice led her to the throne of God. She would stand boldly as I sang "Holy Ground" with hands held high, tears falling to the floor. She would plan her church's programs around mine and my husband's schedule just so we could "do the music." She had such confidence in us, even when we felt like we were winging it.

The last time I sang...I mean really sing....was July 19. We could think of anyone better to honor her with music than her family. Blindly, my sister and I stepped into recording booth and choke out "Beulah Land" and "Down to the River to Pray," two songs she begged us to do before but we never did. We listened to our voices at her funeral, and ever since then....well.

I've been lying to myself. I told myself that special music at church was a cop out. It gave the congregation a chance to sit back and relax while someone else does the praising. I thought it was wrong, and that each song we sing should be everyone's opportunity to worship The Lord. I cringed when music was even played....I would run and hide in our nursery. Did you catch that?? Most people skip out of the sermons, it was the music...MUSIC....that I couldn't stomach.

A couple of weeks ago, a battered friend....someone who has weathered a similar storm to myself, asked me to sing with her Easter Sunday. Tears poured down my face before I could get a grip on my stone cold heart. Did she really just ask me to sing? I told her I would "pray about it." I jumped in my car, and I just could not get a grip. I couldn't stop my tears. How long am I suppose to tell God no?

Psalms 40:3 says "He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God; many will see and fear and will trust in The Lord."

She apologized to me....no apology needed. How was she to know that I was wrestling with God about that very matter? In fact, I watched Him melt my heart almost overnight. She has a stunning voice, she's not quite as comfortable as I was, but she would sing specials occasionally. Through her own hurt....I questioned my own heart... Such courage it must have taken her to even want to sing?? The least I could do is swallow my pride and sing with her. Maybe it wouldn't conquer my quest but I could certainly help her. After all, she and I were in the same boat.

Then my husband told me I had a solo in the Easter Cantata....no ifs, ands or buts....it was mine. He had the entire choir gang up on me....I couldn't escape. So I sang it, as if second nature. And I sang it again.....turns out I am singing tonight, tomorrow, and Sunday morning.

My heart has changed about special music in a worship service..for the better. I keep talking about God healing my broken heart.....and He is.

Pride goes before the fall

Yesterday was a hard day. It wasn't a difficult as the weeks that led up to it, but it was still a hard day. Wrestling with God is not something I desire. Maybe I should.
My heart aches in the midst of uncertainty. But that just shows you my own spiritual maturity. My faith waivers daily.
I've been studying quite a bit in Job. It's what my mom left me with two days before she died. But today, my study led me to find hope in Joseph's life. He was Jacob's next to youngest son. Jacob was much older when Joseph was born and because of this, Jacob loved him more than his brothers.
Joseph was given dreams. They were hard dreams to interpret so he spilled his guts to his family, family that didn't understand and for the most part, were too prideful to want to understand. And here is where my pen met the paper.

Pride is ugly. It makes you jealous and incredibly angry. It robs you of all joy and insight. It blinds you of the truth.

In Genesis 37, when Joseph tells his family of the dreams he had, he wanted clarity. He depended upon his family for help, for vision. But even his father, Jacob, gave a knee-jerk reaction. Rather than having Joseph's best interests at heart, they had their own agendas. "You honestly think we will bow down to you??"
I imagine the young 17 year old boy in shock....."um, no sir, I don't have a clue!!"

While his brothers sat and stewed on this "news," Jacob gives us a glimmer of spiritual maturity and true parenthood. Verse 11 says he kept the saying in his mind. He tucked it away for another day, for his future, for his son's future. He believed in Joseph's purpose and knew that it was The Lord speaking to him through dreams and ultimately guiding his future.

It's easy to react quickly to bad news or news that disrupts our world. But if we hide that news in our hearts (minds) and it shows its self again in the future, we can be prepared, not scared or threatened.

We are seasoned. We can lead by example. Not all change is bad. Just look at the blessing Joseph was to his family in the future.

Persevere......Be the Blessing....

Today's a "Hey Lady" day

I remember this phrase rearing it's ugly head over and over. I have fond memories of walking into U-Save (the now Kroger) or Save-a-Lot in Whitley, and she would look over her shoulder and say, "It's a Hey Lady day, ok?"
Surely little ole me could never have disappointed her. My sheer appearance or general ambience was usually pleasing. I mean, who doesn't enjoy the teenage eye roll, the clothes that parents just don't understand, the attitude that accompanies the "no" that was just received.
Allow me to define the "Hey Lady Day." It appeared for a number of reasons. No shower, hair a wreck, stupidity, attitude, ALL IN PUBLIC....
Sometimes "Hey Lady" days were more comical than corrective. Like when she used it as reverse psychology. Or when we claimed the "Hey Lady" before she got a chance.

I wonder if God has "Hey Lady" days with me. What am I saying?? The real question is when does He not? When do I act in such a manner that my Father is not ashamed of me? My self-control fails me. My flesh is weak. I am a mess.

Thank goodness for grace. His sufficient grace. It bathes me, it cleans up my attitude, it keeps me humble.

And just so you know, Mom, I got my ratty hair cut and colored yesterday. So maybe my appearance is not as embarrassing. My children, on the other hand.....well, I fear I'm reaping what I sewed....

Glad that's over

HELLO MARCH!!! I seriously thought you would never come, but you are here and almost a 3rd of the way gone!
I dreaded every day of February. I missed my mom with each breath. Her birthday was the 22nd. We took a trip to honor her. I planned for that weekend all month long. I anticipated the grief I was to display that day. I held my breath as we journeyed north. Where are you Mom?? ALL.MONTH.LONG. That's 28 days, in case you were wondering. 28 days of just existence. If you looked at me long enough, I'm sure you could've seen straight through me. I was vanishing. It overwhelmed my heart, my brain, to think, to be a wife, a mother, a house cleaner, a hostess, a friend. Is that honoring anyone? um...FAIL.

As March has found me, I am OBSESSED with the word HOPE. I see it everywhere. In my daily Bible study.....entitled Abounding Hope.... on a bracelet, on TV, on Facebook, in song, words of encouragement. Hope....

If I allow myself to wallow in pity of how my mom is gone, I'm lonely, my guidance is gone, you name it, then I rob the Holy Spirit of His job. He brings me hope. Glorious Hope that this is not over. That I won't forget what she looked like, smelled like, laughed like, cried like. Hope that her faith, this torch that she has given me, is now SIGHT. She sees just what He has saved her from, this Jesus that loves us......yeah, He's holding her now. Who else would I want to greet me when I meet my Jesus than the one who prayed for my own faith? The one that held my hand and showed me Jesus. It's only appropriate that she introduce us face to face...although, I'm sure no introduction will be necessary.

So, as Steven Curtis Chapman has sang....

We have this hope as an anchor 'cause we believe that everything God promised us is true

So we can cry with hope
And say goodbye with hope

We wait with hope
And we ache with hope
We hold on with hope
We let go with hope