a wonderful life

Mr. Potter: Have you put any real pressure on these people of yours to pay those mortgages?
Peter Bailey: Times are bad Mr. Potter. A lot of these people are out of work.
Mr. Potter: Well, then foreclose.
Peter Bailey: I can't do that. These families have children.
Mr. Potter: They're not my children.
Peter Bailey: But they're somebody's children, Mr. Potter.

Frank Capra's It's A Wonderful Life existed nearly 40 years before someone helped me discover it. Even now, after embracing this film through nearly three decades of Christmases, there are fresh tears.

I am struck by the cruel words revealing the hardened heart of Mr. Potter and moved by the truth Peter Bailey speaks.

Yes. These children are somebody's children.

Perhaps it is witnessing the struggle of families visiting our local food pantry. Times are bad. A lot of good people are out of work.

Perhaps it is the whispered hope of the young woman recently conversing with me in a strip club. She stood a little taller as she told me about making really good money - $100 in one night. My heart ached. $100 isn't anywhere near fair and equitable compensation for the work she's expected to do. What haunts me this morning is the change in her posture. She seemed to be celebrating a windfall while simultaneously bracing for a fight.

She was expecting Mr. Potter in me.

I hope what she found was Peter Bailey.

Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone. - Colossians 4:6 NIV
 

the welcome home blessing from It's A Wonderful Life:

Bread - that this house may never know hunger

Salt - that life may always have flavor and

Wine - that joy and prosperity may reign forever

Mary Bailey, George Bailey

Rjw

photo source: wikimedia

Confetti

In the Tuesday night Heaven-to-Earth bible study we are asked to describe our personal experience, a time or place where Heaven touched our Earth.

Co-conspirators in this adventure speak of sunsets, clear waters and healing. As i pause to ponder the question my heart experiences confetti: bright round colors falling slowly in the first years of life... moments like photographs that i look back on and know God is there:
• first communion
• fifth grade
• the summer of my 15th year
• the birth of a daughter
• the birth of a son
• the night i met the man God designed for me
• the day i marry him
• the day Father Gubbels calls and introduces himself: looks like you need an annulment ... the healing that flows from that invitation

the confetti falls faster
a quickened pace, images of 7 years walked within Fellowship:
• my first six Sunday mornings in worship, the sobbing and messy tears, the unmistakable sensation i'd come home again, an invitation from Destiny and Diane to sit with them
• my first Seder Supper when Andrea welcomed me into her kitchen and Phoebe taught me to make Charoset; sitting on cushions around a low table constructed of pallets on the living room floor
• the Sunday at Fellowship when i discovered the Our Father, a prayer from my childhood, in the pages of Matthew 6
• a Saturday afternoon at home as i find inspiration for the Hail Mary in the words the Angel Gabriel speaks to the young virgin in Luke 1
• praying in the healing garden with Perry and Amy, as my husband and her father endured open heart surgery, the unexplainable unspoken assurance that life not death is the intended outcome
• the beginning of Whispered Hopes, the moment i realized this was more than just a fact-finding mission, that i would be leading, that i'd been Called with a capital C, a concept and a word not in my vocabulary at the time
• the first time i stood at the front of the theater at worship and spoke into a microphone, overcoming the fear
• the Christmas we celebrated Joseph, the role of the adoptive father, and my husband sharing with all of us how he loved me
• the day traveling north on Highway 53, a beautiful, sunny and lusciously rich day when i looked back and thought about my first marriage, how difficult i'd been to be married to, and uttered aloud the words poor Wayne as God with miraculous precision carved away the remnants of divorce, the deeply embedded pain in my heart
• the summer wedding of Bryan and Kathryn, the beauty of family gathered, the blessing of Perry officiating
• moments in The Gap, pauses in conversation where time seems to stop as i play out multiple responses and the impact of my words on those i most love
• the second time i stood at the front of the theater at worship and spoke into a microphone, overcoming the fear
• the week spent with Amy at ICAP in Green Lake, the bonding of mother-daughter, the celebration of true friends and co-conspirators for Christ
• the third time i stood at the front of the theater at worship and spoke evening and morning into a microphone, overcoming the fear
• the day Jeremiah found for me the Matthew 8:8 verse that resonates within my heart, the pre-communion Catholic Mass affirmation "just say the word and i shall be healed"
• a couple weeks ago when i stood at the front of the theater and took the microphone, the blessing to speak of thankfulness and whispered hopes, praying for my friend Peggy and Teamwork Africa, overcoming the fear

Rw

Confetti Photo used with permission; purchased at 123rf.com

oceans

words

like the sculptor's chisel

broke away a hardened fragment of my heart

i moaned as if in pain and brought my hand to rest on my heart

awe


the speaker of the words sat behind me

in the 9 o'clock hour

my favorite 40 minutes of Fellowship

a study and discussion of the teaching before it is taught

an open door, a place to impact

to be impacted

the image of the ocean storm has haunted me these past months

i grew tired of treading water and fighting the sea

beneath me an undercurrent beckoned, caressed

i secretly harbored the urge 
   to move toward the shore
   to claw my way onto the sand
   to feel the scratchy wet earth beneath me
   to embezzle rest


i am grateful for the Truth. the Chisel. the Awe.




Hillsong United lyrics:
"Oceans (Where Feet May Fail)"

You call me out upon the waters
The great unknown where feet may fail
And there I find You in the mystery
In oceans deep
My faith will stand

And I will call upon Your name
And keep my eyes above the waves
When oceans rise
My soul will rest in Your embrace
For I am Yours and You are mine

Your grace abounds in deepest waters
Your sovereign hand
Will be my guide
Where feet may fail and fear surrounds me
You've never failed and You won't start now

So I will call upon Your name
And keep my eyes above the waves
When oceans rise
My soul will rest in Your embrace
For I am Yours and You are mine

[6x]
Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders
Let me walk upon the waters
Wherever You would call me
Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander
And my faith will be made stronger
In the presence of my Savior

I will call upon Your name
Keep my eyes above the waves
My soul will rest in Your embrace
I am Yours and You are mine

Rjw

photo credit

$3 Flannel

the challenge: a costume that illustrates the change you are looking to see.

my response: naked and unashamed.

today? an L.L. Bean flannel nightshirt i picked up for $3 from the men's rack in a second-hand store, clothing in which i am comfortable, clothing that signals rest and respite, time away from the world.

tomorrow? tomorrow it may be different.

"Naked and Unashamed: letting people see the real me"
— wearing something that makes you feel beautiful, that reveals your heart and celebrates the real you. So ... a tiara, a team t-shirt, a long flowing skirt, a great pair of jeans, a whispered hopes button, flip flops or stilettos, a piece of jewelry you created ...

Now let Us conceive a new creation—humanity—made in Our image, fashioned according to Our likeness. And let Us grant them authority over all the earth ... Genesis 1:26 VOICE

Rjw


photo: source

blackest night

The railing is more substantial than expected. I'd driven across the bridge a thousand times, but this night for the first time I walk it. I am close enough to the railing to touch the smooth, round metal. The circumference is more than twice the distance measured palm to fingertip; my two hands together look too small to fully grasp it. 

Walking the 4½ miles from a friend's spare bedroom in Camino Park to the bridge on South Hastings Way did not alleviate my desperation. Step followed step. Seconds gathered into minutes. An hour passed without memory as though a dense fog had swallowed up the visual and visceral cues that life exists. I experience myself without dimension from somewhere deep within, a heart beat slows and grows loud, pulses a primal accompaniment, intensifying my need for escape. 

The air is cool. Its breeze delivers a hint of fall. The river below is still and soundless, lifeless and black. Day has turned to evening. 

The night is swallowing the sun. 

My hands move toward the railing. Headlamps on a passing car illuminate a large black spider, the builder of an intricate web anchored in the smooth, round metal. I am startled and fearful, eyes alert and intent on this unexpected adversary, hands now motionless in midair, heart and soul moving as though in meditation: behold the delicate web. 

The bridge had been my destination, the inky black river my intended tomb. 

Behold the delicate web: intricate and anchored, woven and unwavering. 

Blackest night cannot devour the sun. 

Spiderweb in Sunlight by Nicko Margolies

When you beg the Lord for help, he will answer, “Here I am!” Isaiah 58:9 CEV

Rjw

it was 1985. a brutal battle for custody in the midst of shattered dreams. the isolation of divorce. economic poverty. an overwhelming sense of failure as a parent and a person. 

hush

This past week someone i supervise openly defied me.

In the days that followed i plummeted into old patterns, played and replayed the conversation i would have ... only to lose my voice hours before she again walked in the door.

More than two years ago this image joined the mixed-media multitude adorning my desk.

 
In many instances i have learned to listen more ... 

... and still i fret and wait impatiently, revisiting past conversations, imagining future conversations, exchanges in which i manipulate the other person into seeing things my way ... or rather, more honestly, doing things my way.

More than just a symptom of a summer cold, the loss of my voice seems to be a summons ...

... a summons to fret less, to really walk this walk as though i believe God is bigger than any earthly scheme, to wait patiently for His perfection in intervention

... to hush

Be still before the Lord
    and wait patiently for him;
do not fret when people succeed in their ways,
    when they carry out their wicked schemes. – Psalm 37:7

The wicked draw the sword
    and bend the bow
to bring down the poor and needy,
    to slay those whose ways are upright. 
But their swords will pierce their own hearts,
    and their bows will be broken. – Psalm 37:14-15

... to continue listening more, talking less, being an instrument of His love in a world with many too many broken hearts.

 Rjw

image © Keith Kimberlin, Universal Designs 

daily bread

The clock reads 6:00 a.m. The promise of a bright orange sky greets me as I let Harley out the front door. I feel peaceful this morning, the kind of peaceful that has been missing for awhile.

I put on the coffee and scoop dog food into Harley's bowl. I think about making toast. I think about bread, and the food pantry, and how often guests are disappointed that there aren't more sweets – cakes and cookies. At first glance it seems silly, then yes, I understand. I too crave the fleeting euphoria of sugar-infused sweets.

I am thankful. I am thankful for tangible gifts and people with generous hearts.

I am thankful for Jeff, the Brownberry rep, who drops off hundreds of loaves of beautiful bread each week.

I am thankful for sweets. I am thankful that my self-soothing addictions are caffeine and chocolate, sugar and salt – that I grew and outgrew my more deadly addictions: alcohol and promiscuity.

In the peace of this beautiful morning I feel the long arch of the universe, God's infinite plan for my life – for every life.

Rjw

A personal choice

My friend, my pastor, hands me a magazine, The Economist, open to page 9.

His eyes are deep pools of honesty and wisdom. His voice expresses true interest in my thoughts in response to ideas put forth. As I take my seat in the
9 a.m. Bible study, I glance at the first few lines. Fear rumbles in my upper abdomen like a handful of river rock: The business of sex... the world's oldest profession more
 
The first paragraph is filled with enough divisive labels and broad stroke mis-assumptions that I am tempted to dismiss the article and the editorial staff.

The second paragraph slaps me across the face: This newspaper has never found it plausible that all prostitutes are victims. The words never and all ignite the warrior-advocate within me.

The business of sex – prostitution – is not a profession.

The business of sex is the demand-driven grooming and consumption of human beings, the rape of a child – thousands of American children – girls and boys forced into service typically around age 13.

The business of sex is a dark and brilliant evil concealed in the shadows created by the entitlement of the buyers – typically white middle- and upper-class American males – an evil upheld and facilitated by the inaction of silent bystanders, behind-closed-doors consumers, and not-so-innocent witnesses who dismiss the often silent cries of boys and girls, admonishing them with shame, advising Shhh. Don't tell.

The human lives within the business of sex are diverse and complex.

The manifestations of brutality – rape, prostitution, pornography – complex and diverse.

I seek a language understood by the buyers of sex, especially those protected by middle- and upper-class status: substantial financial penalties, the doctrine of joint and several liability.

Eradication of such heinous crimes may be advanced by not only incarceration, but also the imposition of a financial penalty. – Restitution, All or Nothing, New Jersey Law Journal, March 28, 2014, njlawjournal.com

I implore all who would hear me to question statistics, to contrast and compare The Economist's dissection of data from one big international site that hosts 190,000 profiles to the Urban Institute's study revealing the size and structure of the underground commercial sex economy in American cities. Abstract and Presentation

I kneel in prayer:

Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you. Ps 123:8

Rjw 

Say Yes

What a great way to wake up in the morning! 
http://vevo.ly/YkyvAM

graceless space

as i look at the childhood pictures of dear friends, my eyes brim with tears ... tears for the pain suffered as children forced into prostitution and tears for the pain suffered today — knowing there are photographs, fearing that someday the images will surface.

Child pornography is escalating. Explicit content of younger victims is becoming increasingly available and graphic. Online child pornography communities frequently trade content for free and reinforce behavior. Offenders often consider their participation a "victimless crime." — Urban Institute [read the abstract]

as i look at my sleeping grandson, my eyes brim with tears ... tears for the pain that will inevitably come into his life, the struggles, the disappointment, the hard knocks life on this earth inevitably hands us. most on my heart is grief and fear, that this baby still in diapers will likely be exposed to pornography between kindergarten and third grade. 

“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;

    I have summoned you by name; you are mine.
When you pass through the waters,
    I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers,
    they will not sweep over you.
When you walk through the fire,
    you will not be burned;
    the flames will not set you ablaze.
For I am the Lord your God..."

— Isaiah 43:1-3 NIV excerpt

grief and fear within me, a heart hardened, graceless space

Rjw

this came true

Three years ago the aroma of toothpaste greeted my daughter as she came into my office. I imagine a quizzical look scampering across her eyebrows as her gaze came to rest on the white poster board on which I'd painted with toothpaste the words "Jesus Wept" – an illustration for my blog.

use of a toothbrush 1899 - wiki commons

That this unconventional use of oral 
care product was not so odd as to cause 
serious concern regarding my mental 
health speaks to the longevity and 
fluidity of our mother-daughter, 
mentors-friends relationship.

Today there is an added bonus, the 
exquisite discovery of the words of 
a prayer, an answered prayer:

I want to evaporate fear – caring about 
people in the moment, struggling and 
weeping beside people in distress, 
living and celebrating joy as it happens 
in my life and in the lives of those 
around me. When we put down our 
shields to share our sorrow and 
our joy with the world, Life evaporates fear. – "This" July 6, 2011 more

During the 1095 days spanning the gap between the original writing and my reading, the prayer was answered. "This" came true.

While experiencing daily the concepts of "Exclusion & Embrace" more ... while embracing the blessing of sabbatical ... while diligently focusing a great deal of time to discover, nourish and integrate Sabbath ... it is not by accident that I discover an answered prayer.

Rjw

Hope, One Brick at a Time

 

 obsessed     TWISTING    RULES   –> poison

   

 CONTROL!   v pain.            REJECTION

...DEPRESSION     D A M A G E     LAST    THE LETDOWN

Judges   OUT OF YOUR COMFORT ZONE.   Identity Crisis 

Unlike the computer keyboard i am using today, the healing arts workshop taught by Destiny at ICAP Global's Delight Conference moves and removes control from my internal editor's struggle for consistency and perfection – unexpectedly and predictably placing it into the capable hands of God.

The workshop becomes a treasure quest: experiencing for the first time the feel of brush strokes on canvas ...  uncovering and discovering words within the pages of soon-to-be-discarded magazines ... and permission to be messy in the sticky-fingered joy and childlike freedom of gluing tiny bricks onto canvas and even tinier words onto bricks.

Inspired by Destiny
The story she shares and the artwork she created inspires us. Her letters spelling HOPE are thin and tall and strong – the bright white graffiti reminiscent of a strong beam of light shining miraculously outward from deepest darkness. Her 3D bricks and words surround on four sides the HOPE on the painted wall.

In these post ICAP days and weeks i find myself enmeshed in an abstract longing for a clarity of connectivity, wildly seeking a deeper understanding of the comfort i often find in isolation, and striving toward elusive answers to concrete questions: why does the artistic bricks-n-mortar of my artwork lacking walls to the left and to the right? is it because i struggle most with shifting sand at my foundation? seek shelter from the storm beneath the idol of self-reliance?

The artwork now hangs on the wall above my desk. Each time i look at this recreation of Destiny's Hope, One Brick at a Time, the unfamiliar textures and processes of working in mixed media return to me, and somewhere deep within i am confident the answers will come.

When you follow the desires of your sinful nature, the results are very clear: sexual immorality, impurity, lustful pleasures, idolatry, sorcery, hostility, quarreling, jealousy, outbursts of anger, selfish ambition, dissension, division,  envy, drunkenness, wild parties, and other sins like these. Let me tell you again, as I have before, that anyone living that sort of life will not inherit the Kingdom of God. But the Holy Spirit produces this kind of fruit in our lives: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against these things! – Galatians 5:19-23 NIV

Rjw

light in the shadows

01 Feb 2014 – i remember the meeting.

the notes in the margin of my notebook read:

storm
in without
hold integrity
celebrate
job description
expectations
connections
clinics
Covenant
overarching
specific ministry
pieces
baseline
faith life
fellowship
ttu
what is is essential?
what in me is broken that i am afraid?

i came into the meeting overwhelmed, exhausted, wanting, needing.

i left with fragile hope, permission and affirmation to sit on my step, to move neither up nor down, to not let go of the old nor take on the new, to not give up, to not drop any one thing, but to suspend the non-essentials, to embrace the basics in what i had been doing, to sit and rest and wait for God to send help.

and God sent help

in the notebook before me, there is now a list of 19 names – 12 strangers who recently and unexpectedly entered my life, new co-conspirators in the journey

and 7 familiar friends who drew closer, bringing strength and inspiration

i remain here on my step engaged and motionless, resting in the hope, in the permission and affirmation

i am learning to suspend the non-essentials and unearthing time for rest

i am no longer in the dusky shadowed darkness

for God has moved

and on my step there is new Light.

God made two great lights—the greater light to govern the day and the lesser light to govern the night. He also made the stars. God set them in the vault of the sky to give light on the earth, to govern the day and the night, and to separate light from darkness. And God saw that it was good. Genesis 1:16-18 NIV

Rjw 

shadowed clouds

A sense of rebirth surrounds me. i find myself squinting into the too-bright light of life outside the womb i recently experienced at ICAPglobal.

A photo taken on the evening of May 15 marks my arrival in Green Lake and captures the sense of hope in descending darkness.

Something about the shadowed clouds coming to meet the hilltop brings to mind Genesis ...

In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.

And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. God saw that the light was good, and he separated the light from the darkness. God called the light “day,” and the darkness he called “night.” And there was evening, and there was morning—the first day. – Genesis 1:1-5 NIV

This morning there are tears as i am blessed by shared photos of my traveling companions, my co-conspirators in Christ. i am reminded how we stood together on the first morning of The Story workshop, hesitant and bold, knowing we'd encounter death, confident in the still small voice that promises resurrection.

God weaves our lives together in the telling of our stories, tears pledging witness to deep pain, spoken words dancing with silence, smoldering embers of encouragement lighting fires of compassion in our hearts and in our eyes.

You call me out upon the waters
The great unknown where feet may fail
And there I find You in the mystery
In oceans deep
My faith will stand

And I will call upon Your name
And keep my eyes above the waves
When oceans rise
My soul will rest in Your embrace
For I am Yours and You are mine

Your grace abounds in deepest waters
Your sovereign hand
Will be my guide
Where feet may fail and fear surrounds me
You've never failed and You won't start now

So I will call upon Your name
And keep my eyes above the waves
When oceans rise
My soul will rest in Your embrace
For I am Yours and You are mine

Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders
Let me walk upon the waters
Wherever You would call me
Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander
And my faith will be made stronger
In the presence of my Savior

I will call upon Your name
Keep my eyes above the waves
My soul will rest in Your embrace
I am Yours and You are mine

Rw

stairway

The stairway to heaven, a journey, descending, slowly, often painfully slowly, one step at a time, resting, engaging the person next to me, a step above or a step below, help and hope, faith overcoming fear, excavating the dark -- the darkness within me -- changed by miraculous Light, i journey further, until i reach the bottom, the posture of Christ on the Cross, arms spread wide as i lay face down, my heart beating aloud Love one another the way I loved you.

Rw

in our midst

        like touching
                   a ray of sunshine
   an elusive
            ephemeral
                      curtain

   the Kingdom
              in our midst

dancing
        swaying
                 folding and billowing

          a spring breeze

i sense
     something
           more
               substantial

not more substantial

         but Something More

                       something
                    SUBSTANTIAL

Beauty
   Grace
        Strength
   in the woman
             in the women
    before me
                 Beauty
             Grace
        Strength
              in
               me?

she need not be
     less
       in making
             her
          more

embrace
     the wind,
            the window
       the sunlight,
              the sun,
   the Son  

photo source: wikimedia.org

A Heart Not Big Enough - revisited

The International Christian Conference on Prostitution and Human Trafficking in Green Lake, Wisconsin is just a few short weeks away [details here]. The opportunity comes once every three years.What brings us together is a passion for ending prostitution and human trafficking. What we find is a celebration of human dignity and life in communion with God.

For me Green Lake is a tiny glimpse of Eden – a place where generations of believers gather, a place where faith runs deep, a place where God is tangible.

As I drove through the front gate I found myself exhaling a huge breath and snuggling into the grace-filled arms of God.

Monday morning, after breakfast, 250 people from around the world come together to worship and pray. The room grows quiet.

A sassy red-head – a woman of frailty and strength – needs to speak to us. A delicate skirt of pale blue and white flows around her legs as she walks up the stairs and onto the stage. She is the mother of many, and the children on her heart this morning are in an orphanage in the Darfur region of Sudan. Her delicate hands are clasped in anguish.

Our children have watched wide-eyed and anxiously through our chain-linked security fence as thousands of southern soldiers have trekked past… the thing weighing most heavily upon [the orphanage director] are the contortions of fear etched across our children’s faces. The thunder of dropping bombs, the rhythmic stomp of troops marching by, and the mechanical roll of heavy artillery kicks up the violent winds of war, sweeping through their little minds and excavating all too recent memories of those they saw raped, tortured, and murdered in the last storm of human greed. *

In Darfur, the director watches and waits. The 550 children entrusted to his care wait with him. A decision lies ahead – to stay with the orphanage and risk capture, or to abandon the compound fleeing with the children into the bush where the loss of life will grow each day.

In the anguish of not knowing, the woman leads us in prayer. We pray protection for the children and wisdom for the director, the man entrusted with the decision to stay or flee.

Genesis 1
God called the light “day,” and the darkness he called “night.” And there was evening, and there was morning—

On Tuesday there is no word. My heart is not big enough to bear the pain. Beside me each day are women telling their stories of death – not a dying of the body, but a massacre of the soul. We share tragedy and hope. What brings us together is a passion for ending prostitution and human trafficking. What we find is a celebration of human dignity and life in communion with God.

And there was evening, and there was morning—

On Wednesday a young man takes the stage. “Many of you have been asking about Darfur and the children. Communication is difficult, but [the director] got through by phone.”

How beautiful to hear a rumble of laughter out of [the director] this morning! In the backdrop of our phone call, instead of bombs, I heard our children singing. “The children are praising God for the worst rains we have ever had! The rains have come so hard for so many hours that the killing machines are all trapped in the mud.” *

Rain. This morning we praise God for simple rain. The children within the orphanage, a roof over their heads are dry and safe, and they are singing.

And there was evening, and there was morning—

Today – this morning – are the children singing? In the anguish of not knowing I pray.

My heart is not big enough to grieve the loss I find in the tangled insanity of evil. Compared to the battle waging in Darfur our work here in the midwest often feels unimportant, but in Green Lake, surrounded by a sea of people with hearts on fire, I rediscover truth.

No atrocity is too large, no story of redemption too small, for our God.

Each of us – each of you – is invited to be part of God’s plan to bring heaven to earth.

Matthew 10:16
“I am sending you out like sheep among the wolves. Therefore be as shrewd as snakes and as innocent as doves.”

We ask God for healing, and in the asking we find the power to heal ourselves and heal others.

We reach out to take the hand of the person next to us, and we touch the compassion, clarity and courage God offers.

God calls the light “day,” and the darkness “night.” And there is evening, and there is morning—

What will you do with this day?



* excerpts from http://www.kimberlylsmith.com/

this blog originally posted June 9, 2011 following the conference
the 2014 conference is May 18-23, 2014 ($409 double occupancy)

inspire

i am up early this morning.

the dogs follow me down the stairs and into the kitchen, each taking his turn outside. treats are given and bowls are filled with measured food for my well-fed dogs: 1/4 cup for harley who eats immediately, 2 cups for dozer who sniffs then walks away seeking a comfy corner suitable for an old dog's nap.

a few minutes later i look up from 2014 monthly planner i am filling with workdays and birthdays, commitments, opportunities and obligations. i catch harley back in the kitchen eating out of dozer's bowl and find myself wanting to ask him "why do you risk serious harm for something so plentiful as dog food?"

as i look at the full calendar in front of me i realize the same question applies to me "why do i risk serious harm for something so plentiful as God's provision?"

why am i driven to doing? even as i find myself tired and often uninspired?

am i the fish waiting and watching for someone else to inspire me?

or am i the fish risking, the one seeking freedom from her fish bowl?

a woman confidently trusting in God's ability?

God can do anything, you know—far more than you could ever imagine or guess or request in your wildest dreams! He does it not by pushing us around but by working within us, his Spirit deeply and gently within us. - Ephesians 3:20-21 MSG excerpt

Rjw