Intentionally Intent

Some words just won’t go away.

My head is spinning with life:

¨    dwelling in the season of Lent

¨    pondering things of the wilderness, the Cross, the empty tomb

¨    keeping track of medical appointments and tests for three of us

¨    thank you notes that must be written

¨    cards that must be sent to friends fighting one battle or another

¨    rearranging the house—downsizing—creating uncluttered space

¨    cleaning out—organizing—fixing—repairing

¨    and then there is the outside (oh shudder-shudder; too much too soon)

¨    waiting for reports from various doctors

¨    trying to get to the work-out pool 3xWk

¨    and then there are the meals, the laundry, the regular house upkeep

          Those are just the “normal,” as most of you know. [For my younger readers, I never said life got easier with retirement. I did say that multi-tasking becomes more complicated.]

          In the midst of the above and daily life in general, INTENTIONAL has bounced into my life like a brick. It won’t go away.

          The word first yelled for my attention in my first reading of Ann Voskamp’s A Thousand Gifts some 3 weeks ago.  I thought about it awhile and decided, “Yes, that is a good thing to do… be intentional about my faith.” 

 I even began naming my gifts—writing down the little and the big and the in-between things that God bestows unearned and unsought.

         
 I worked on my prayer time. I watched for God’s unexpected gifts…. I worked on my attitude…. I made lists of gratitude.

And then.. I got busy with the “stuff” above …and then I forgot.

How many times in my life have I seen the word intentional?  None that I remember until Ann’s book.

During the past 4 days, INTENTIONAL showed up in:

©    two blogs I read regularly

©    in my Other Favorite Author Number 3 Debbie Macomber’s new book God’s Guest List

©    in the fine-print of some medical information

©    and in Connie Cowan’s on-line Lenten Study Walking to the Cross.

OKAY. Okay. I’m getting it.

I looked up INTENTIONAL in the dictionary. You don’t need me to list the synonyms but you know I will:

INTENT

          Goal

          Target

          Objective

          Plan

INTENTIONAL

          Deliberate

                    Purposeful

                    Conscious

          On purpose

          Planned

          Calculated

                    Designed

                    Premeditated

          Seems to me that the funny little word, INTENTIONAL, shows up in my path, over and over, to remind me of my own mission to PRACTICE and FOCUS and LEARN and STAND FIRM.

          You know, those things Paul said. The things I just wrote about three days ago on Grappling with Contentment!!

I hope you’ll join me in keeping on keeping on and

Standing on the Promises

Liz

And Jesus said, “Why are you sleeping?

Rise and pray that you many not enter into temptation.”

Luke 22:46 [NAST]

Grappling with Contentment

This year, Lent seems very long. Because Ash Wednesday came so late? Or because Easter won’t arrive until April is almost finished?

To me, Lent is a time to sit at the feet of Jesus to learn and grow. Like most moms and great grannies, I do a high “Martha” season all through Christmas! Then I pack away my apron, the tinsel, ribbon, glitter, and manger just in time for the dark days of winter.

In these retirement years, I really try to let winter be a time to rest, to sit at the feet of Jesus, and to practice the better things of a “Mary” spirit.

However, I don’t do resting well.

This year is particularly difficult because I’ve had a number of medical challenges and I have been “home-bound” more than usual. But, little by little, I kept seeking God’s face.

On Ash Wednesday, I thought I heard Him say, “Hummm. How about that lesson you keep forgetting?”

Oh. Well. Un... You see, He’s talking about a lesson I have learned many times, but I forget. Over the last few months, I forgot it totally and completely.

And yes, I asked. As I poured over His Word through the dark days of winter, my heart soaked up His promises and I yearned for more.

*sigh*  CONTENT.

   

You know what I mean… as in Paul’s acknowledgement:

”I’ve learned by now to be quite content whatever my circumstances. I'm just as happy with little as with much, with much as with little. I've found the recipe for being happy whether full or hungry, hands full or hands empty. Whatever I have, wherever I am, I can make it through anything in the One who makes me who I am.” [Philippians 4:11, The Message]

Can’t do it. Grumble. Complain. Cry. Whine.
My hands are too full.
My nest is too empty.
There is too much to do.
I'm bored.....

Then, in the middle of a HUGE whine, I happened to notice words in the earlier part of chapter 4. …. “stand firm” … “Rejoice in the Lord always” … “in everything by prayer…with THANKSGIVING” … “and anything worthy of praise, let your mind dwell on these things” …..

And then I came to that verse 9 !! “..PRACTICE these things;”

I truly am blessed. I have much. I NEED NOTHING.

The truth is that if all of these earthly, material, physical, relational things aren’t enough, MY SAVIOR LIVES!

Join me in thinking on His Goodness with thanksgiving - - - for at least FORTY DAYS!!

     Liz

Preparing for Ash Wednesday

A couple of years ago, I wrote a Lenten devotion about trying to lean on the everlasting arms of my Savior—as I dealt with life and He headed to the cross. For me.

Ash Wednesday is this week and we begin a 40 day walk to Easter morning. As I try to prepare my heart for remembering the perfect gift my Holy Father gave me at Easter, my mind flits back and forth from one worry to another, I interrupt my own prayers to peek at my “to-do” list, and sigh as my eyes stare out the window to a brown, dead landscape.

I really study and try and learn my lessons.... but *sigh* L I am quick to forget. Life and problems continue to assail me and I fall—yet again—into unchartered waters. Instead of keeping my eyes on the Rock that is higher than I, I fall and must go back… and remember… and get my heart and spirit still… and give thanks.

Ponder with me that Lenten morning when I cried out to God. . . .

Traffic and God's Arms

The day ahead of me was filled to overflowing so I rose early but struggled with prayer lists grown too long, miscellaneous daily stuff entangled among drought and winds, and ugly, stinging words—both given and received. Ready to head out for appointments, I stopped long enough to cry out to God, “How do I know? How can I be sure? My walk is confusing. Where do I turn, what do I do?”

Neither thunder nor lightening answered so I dried my tears and scurried out to tie up the loose ends of yet another hectic day.

Later, I impatiently tapped the steering wheel as I waited for an interminable red light to give me permission to drive forward. Trapped in my immovable vehicle, I watched two men walking down major, busy street in front of me. They moved properly against traffic oblivious to dust coating their white walking shorts.

The sighted man walked next to the curb, his right arm bent so that the other could hold on. The blind man walked in step beside his companion but on the outside and next to the dangerous lane where trucks, cars, and motorcycles zipped, rushed, and sped by.

I felt God whisper, “Watch and learn.”

The two men walked heel-toe-heel-toe oblivious to tires spewing rocks, dirt, and debris across the hot pavement, trucks turning left, mini-vans gunning engines and roaring around slower, sedate Town Cars.

Sharply sucking in my breath, I watched. The blind man moved his white-tipped stick back and forth as he walked—heel-toe-heel-toe. The other man was taller and looked around, pulled his arm closer—heel-toe-heel-toe—checking, pulling in, looking, listening, moving, letting out—heel-toe-heel-toe.

My light changed to green. Oblivious to God’s Hand moving among us, cars in front of me moved ahead, turned left, braked, turned right, slowed, and accelerated while voices from my radio sang…….      

          What have I to dread, what have I to fear,
          Leaning on the everlasting arms?
          I have blessed peace with my Lord so near,

          Leaning on the everlasting arms. (*)

Please, sweet friends, pause with me to lean on the Lord Jesus Christ.

Walking through Lent—and through life—without Jesus is treacherous.
Walking together to the Cross is Holy,

The eternal God is your refuge,
      and his everlasting arms are under you.
   He drives out the enemy before you;
      he cries out, ‘Destroy them!’

Deuteronomy 33:27 (New Living Translation)

Because He Died, I live . . .

      Liz

(*) Text by: Elisha A. Hoffman, pub.1887 / Music: by Anthony J. Showalter, pub.1887

74 and Counting

I can testify that God’s Word can be trusted.

            I've been carrying you on my back  from the day you were born, and I'll keep on carrying you when you're old. I'll be there, bearing you when you're old and gray.

Isaiah 46: 4

I am just one life. In all of creation, that is such a little thing. But, let me tell you how I know God’s Word is true.

The one Triune God has carried me every single day, all through each year, decade in and decade out. I did not make it easy for Him, but my Father God never dropped me. There are examples and stories and many are not pretty but for today, there is a beautiful, love story.

I celebrated my 74^th  birthday last Friday. God has carried me every one of those days and years and decades. Mile after mile, bridge after bridge, over mountains, in dark valleys, and through brick walls.
  Technically, last Friday was the FIRST day of my 75^th year. You know what we say about a new baby.

            “Ahhh, the new baby is 2 days old”

                        Then, “Wow, she is already 7 months old and crawling”

                                    And, “Look! he is 10 months old and ready to really talk!”

Then, doesn’t it follow that today I am 74 years and 4 days old?

Yes. I believe so! But, not to worry. Here’s what I’ve learned in only four days:

            I can NOT clean my whole house all by myself in just ONE day any more

            I can find ways (usually) to deal with aches, pains, and sleeplessness

            It is good that (hopefully) ¼ of my life is left for ... ?my choice!!

            It is a good thing to take some of my time to “just be”

            On Sunday, Dear Heart, Precious Daughter, Almost-Granddaughter-in-law and I worshipped together then casually enjoyed Sunday lunch out. Beautiful day.

            Meanwhile, behind my back and unknown to me, 30 of my family and friends were gathering at MY HOUSE. They were busy bringing in food, lemonade, ice, and water, setting a birthday table in MY dining room, taking pictures of THEIR fun, clearing off the weeds from the horseshoe pit, and waiting…and waiting… and waiting for the birthday girl to arrive.

            All for me. Just because it was my birthday.

I write over and over on this blog that I am a greatly blessed woman.

There WILL be pictures.

Furthermore, the remainder of God’s Word in Isaiah 46 proclaims:

            I've done it and will keep on doing it, carrying you on my back, saving you.

Although I sometimes forget, God IS the I Am. I need not be afraid.

My you celebrate the beauty of your birthday every single day!

Liz

The Day Before Tomorrow

I wonder what my mother was doing 74 years ago tonight?

I don’t remember any stories about February 24, 1937. The day before I was born.

*sigh* WelL, TODAY—all these 74 years later—I’ve cleaned house. Over the course of the last month or so, I’ve had to sort through miscellaneous physical challenges and today was a really good day!! So, I tackled my house. Why? Oh, just ‘cause. Waking to a clean house in the mornings is one of my joys. Guess I’d like to wake up on my birthday to an orderly, things-in-their-places, relatively “clean” home. These days, that is an unusual gift!

          It is funny that as the story-keeper of the family, I don’t know any of the stories about the day before my birth. What did Mother do? When did her parents and sister get to their tiny apartment in Hearne? Did Mother clean house all day? Did neighbors drop in? Did she cook? Did Grandmother Alice bring a week’s worth of meals? Probably. Mother kept a record of my first year in a little, pink book but that was about me. I wonder about her. How did a 25-year-old expectant mother feel in 1937… on a cold day in February

          Well, I do know a LOT about their beginning.

          After one week of marriage, MayBeth and Mack Hoyt walked home from church, arm in arm. MayBeth dropped her Bible and her new groom immediately retrieved it. Then Mack stopped in the middle of the street and looked at the Bible. He looked at his new bride.

          “Sweetheart?” he asked, with a puzzled look on his face.

          MayBeth smiled and said, “What, Darlin?”

          “Well, this IS your Bible, isn’t it?”

          “Of course.”

          “Then why does it say: Mary Elizabeth Hughes?

          “Well, silly, that’s my name.”

          Mack handed the Bible to MayBeth but did not move along He just stood. Looking at MayBeth. They had met at the First Baptist Church in Hearne, Texas two years earlier. They both maintained it was mutual love at first sight and Mack had traveled the 20 miles down Highway 79 to Milano, Texas to see MayBeth any time he could “hitch” a ride. In between their times together, they wrote letters to each other. MayBeth saved some of the letters she received from the young man from the big city who stole her heart.

          So, in early August, 1933, there was a bridal shower at the home of her parents, Luther and Alice Isaac Hughes then on Sunday afternoon, August 20, at the home of the pastor of the First Baptist Church in Hearne, Mack Hoyt and MayBeth Hughes were united in holy matrimony.

          The following Sunday, the heat in the Texas air hung hot and heavy but Mack kept standing in the middle of the street staring at MayBeth with his hands on his hips. She blushed and smiled and twisted the small gold band on her left hand.

          Finally, a broad grin began to spread across Mack’s face and he said, “Well, we’ll settle one thing here and now. You kept your real name secret for two years, but our first child will be named Mary Elizabeth! Now, let’s go home.”

          It took a while, but when  their firstborn crashed the scene, I WAS a girl. I’ve often wondered if my brother Jerry had come first, whether he would have liked the name Mary Elizabeth. When our daddy set his mind….

          Sometime around mid-afternoon on February 24, 1937, birthing began to call. Time seemed to stand still for the young couple, but at eight o’clock the next night, Mack and MayBeth became parents for the first time. And, it was a “they” thing because Mack stayed in the bedroom through the whole ordeal. So, with birthing done, Old Dr. Bo handed the screaming baby girl to Grandmother Alice for cleaning while he tended to the new mother. Mack went out to the small living room to announce the results of those long hours to the waiting family.

          When all the commotion settled down, Mack went back to the bedroom to hold his new daughter. He just stood at the foot of MayBeth’s bed a long time, rocking his daughter back and forth.

          Mother said, “Darlin, is she all right?”

          Mack grinned and said, “Well, yeah. But, Sweetheart? Well, gosh, half her legs are turned up in feet.”

          In spite of pain, MayBeth laughed.

          Mack regained some of his composure and sat on the edge of Mother’s bed. He said, “Mamma. I want you to meet MARY ELIZABETH HOYT. Your first AND your last child. We’ll not be doing this ever again.”

          J Mother had to do a lot of whatever it was she did to convince my Daddy, but four years later, they did bring forth into the world their second (and last!!) child, a son, my little brother.

Thank you Mother and Daddy for giving me life. For showing me the Way. For standing by—no matter what. But, mostly, thank you for introducing me to Jesus!

Dearest love, from your first-born who was always knows as

Liz