Blue Skies

 I once told a friend in Addis Ababa that the reason they were so much closer to God than we were, is because they were on top of a mountain and could see His face more easily.  Where we in America, have so many clouds in our way that we can't see Him without straining our neck.

Clouds of job problems, marital issues, social concerns, kids activities - anything to keep our minds off our Creator and make us think the world revolves around us and every problem takes 100% of our attention for us to fix on our own.   No help needed.

As I walked this morning and reflected on the revival happening at college campuses in the U.S. this week, I looked up and the Holy Spirit had me focus in on the clouds.   A full sheet of clouds, just covering the sky.   But little patches of blue peeked through.    And that's where He had me focus.  A revival of sorts, a realization of my own selfishness and narrow mindedness.  

It's time we switch our focus.   Stop focusing on the clouds and look for the blue skies.    The goodness behind the noise.     The Creator is speaking to us every morning and we are too busy to stop and breathe it in.   BE STILL.    He speaks in the voice of the birds who have returned to sing His song.   In the cry of the perfect baby He created from only two solitary cells.   In the pink and yellow flowers He calls forth from the bulb at the perfect time.    His voice and image is all around us, and yet we are usually too busy to stop and see.

The clouds of Satanic award shows, the idols of our day, the evil leaders - they instead occupy our attention.   The noise of natural or man-made disasters, food shortages, the drumbeats of war - it is all a mist.  A scary mist, yes.   But still, just a blanket of clouds that will one day be rolled back and then all we will see is goodness and the purity that was meant to be.   

This world is only a motel room, where we reside a little while.   You can fill it with the most beautiful and perfect things - houses, cars, and pretty artwork.   But it is still, all a mist, a mirage that we build with our own hands.   Just a cloud to be blown away, never mattering at all.   What matters is our home for eternity, not this hotel room.   What matters is those that we invite to come with us.   What matters is those that we warn about refusing the invitation.    There is only one way to check in there, and that is trusting and believing in the one who is the ultimate Creator.   Keep your eyes on the sky friends.... and look for the SON.

"Dear brothers and sisters, be patient as you wait for the Lord's return.  Consider the farmers who patiently wait for the rains in the fall and in the spring.  They eagerly look for the valuable harvest to ripen.  You, too, must be patient.  Take courage, for the coming of the Lord is near."  James 5:7-8

Just take my hand

 Years ago, we struggled through the adoption trials.   One setback after another.    Smacking me in the face.   Pushing me farther from the shore.   Farther and farther away from my baby.    It just wouldn’t stop - the waves of life.    I was drowning.    Calling out to God “why did you ask us to do this and then are letting this pain happen??” 

Later, marital troubles hit.  Again I was back in that ocean of turmoil.    Being hit from every side.    Tossed to and fro in the ocean of anger and sin.   Drowning in my own tears.   Again I cried out, “God, if you loved me, why are you letting this happen?????”

But the whole time.   He was there.  Smiling down at me.   My Daddy God.   Arm outstretched.   “Just take my hand”.     I was the toddler, bobbing in the ocean, drinking big gulps of salt water and pain.    Being hit in the face with waves taller than me.   Struggling for a reprieve and here was my God... standing beside me, “just take my hand”.  

You see, our world is full of sin.    God isn’t the author of those attacks.   That is the enemy at work.  Trying to break you. And while I am the toddler who pulls my arm back saying “I’ve got this!!  I can do this!!! I’m mad at you!!!”      God is the daddy who smiles and just says “take my hand”.   Because when you take HIS hand, those waves of life keep coming, but instead of drowning, you float right over.   They keep hitting you, but his strong arm keeps you safe, helping you stay afloat.    Life is hard, struggles are hard.   But it is only when we give up our stubbornness and allow him to comfort us, support us, and love us - that we begin to breathe again.  And those waves don’t seem so big and scary anymore.

Just take His hand.    

"The Hand of God" - Yongsung Kim

“ For I am the Lord your God who takes hold of your right hand and says to you,

 Do not fear; I will help you.”  

Isaiah 41:13

Is your lamp still lit?

 

My lamp was empty when the power went out.  By flashlight, I climbed to the top of the fridge to retrieve the oil I hadn’t used in years.  Honestly, I had almost forgotten where it was. 

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And this morning, while reading Matthew 24 (a good refresher for anyone right now), I transitioned into Matthew 25.  The parable of the waiting bridesmaids spoken by Christ.  He describes his return, and those waiting for him.  And it made me wonder, for those 5 out of the 10 bridesmaids... They made themselves ready, they were probably wearing their best dresses and had actually put on mascara and lipstick for the occasion.  They picked up their lanterns and waited patiently for His return. 

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But he took a long time.  Their lamps went out one by one.  Much in the same way, how many of us came out of the gate on fire as new Christians?  Quiet time everyday.  Bible studies with new friends.  Relying on God and prayer for our guidance versus the latest feel good article or website. 

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But when Christ came back, they had already let their lights run out.  Perhaps they were too focused on their new job, or listening to society tell them ‘you don’t need anyone, you are a fierce woman!  Pink hats for us all!!’ Perhaps they now shun ‘those silly Christians’ as ignorant or old fashioned... ‘why do we need a fairy tale god to obey when there is so much fun to be had here?’ Perhaps they just went to sleep and forgot they were hoping for him at all?? 

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Regardless, when the bridegroom returned, they woke up and realized they were lacking.  And no borrowing of oil - ‘’my family are all Christians”. No excuses - “I once said a prayer when I was a teenager”. No begging - “I’ve never killed anyone, please let me in!!” Nothing could refill the valuable oil that would have kept their lights shining - The Spirit he had originally given them to light the way and bring others to His party. 

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“But he replied, ‘I tell you the truth, I don’t know you.’ (Matt 25:12)

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That’s pretty enlightening..

God still speaks

Bringing over some of my writings from Facebook... Forgive me if seasons and dates are a mess... 

I woke up at 5:30 am with a small nudge. “Come see the sunrise." But I stubbornly closed my eyes and awoke at 6:30 to sun beaming around the curtains. 

Patiently, my Lord waited on me to show up for our date, an hour late.  Unsurprised.  But still willing to talk.  Maybe I missed out on the most gorgeous sunrise my eyes would have ever seen.  Maybe I missed out on finding the perfect, unbroken shell.  

But here is what I know.  God still speaks to His children.  That small voice telling you not to take that perfect job.  Don’t date that smooth guy.  Don’t go out by yourself here tonight.  It’s the little things you chalk up to ‘feelings’ that if heard enough, is your Daddy pounding on the door of your heart, begging you to listen. 

Today, being the gentleman he is - he gifted me with the broken shell and the words “you can still see beauty in brokenness.” It can never be fixed.  Too far past that.  But there is still beauty to be found in the crummy job, the tough marriage, wayward child, or lackluster situation you are in.  Just be still and listen, and then hold your hand up to take His.  He will walk with you in His patient way.  Late or not, He’s always waiting.  Isaiah 41:13

The Gift of Dream

When is a dream just a dream?    A secret present given, an experience into another place or time, only for you to see?   Or when is that dream meant to be shared, at the risk of sounding crazy?   I know that God gives his children spiritual gifts, but when is a vision of your own conjuring, and when is it something more??    It's so hard to discern.  I DO think God still talks to his children in dreams and visions.   He did in Bible times, why would he stop?   My son was once given the vision of a majestic lion, turning a shy and timid teenager into a spiritual soldier from that day forward.     Scripture even says it will be happening with greater frequency.  "Christ has generously divided out his gifts to us."  Eph 4:7.  "Your sons and daughters will prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, and your young men shall see visions."  Joel 2:28    My dream was much less of a call to action, but more a gift of HOPE.   Here is my account, take it or leave it:

15 years ago, I had two little boys at home under the age of 5, along with a newborn daughter.   I had laid down with her for an afternoon nap and was subconsciously allowed to 'visit' Heaven.    The only way I can describe it is intense.   Intense, rich colors.  Intense beauty.  Intense sounds of birds and animals.   Intense PEACE.    The peace was actually the thing that stands out to me still.   How there was no worry of time, or where to go, or things I needed to do.  

I was in the valley.   With a gorgeous blue sky above, and green meadows full of colorful flowers all around me.   At the top of the hill before me, under a massive oak tree, Christ waited.

I climbed the hill and sheepishly approached him as he smiled down at me.   It was as if I were the size of a child, and he, a Father.    (Which really isn't something I have found in Scripture, but hey, it was the dream I was given and it is what it is.)   I asked him if I could sit in his lap and he almost laughed.   But just smiled a little smile and said, "Of course you can, Daughter".   

Completely star struck, I then asked, "Can I hug you??"   Kind eyes with a big smile this time - "of course you can!"     I don't know how long I sat on his lap.   Or if we talked.   Or went down memory lane.   But I can tell you, I remember his eyes.   You could fall into his eyes.  So deep and caring.  I don't even think I could say their color, because they were unearthly.    They saw into your soul and hypnotized you into a state of complete peace.   Of safety.   Of love.   I will never forget the feeling I had looking into his eyes, and having him look down on me with a Father's love.   Unmatched and perfect.     Him looking down into the eyes of the little one he had saved from death.... it was an intense bond I don't think is possible to share with another human.

When I awoke, it was not with relief but grief.   I wanted to be back on that hill more than anything.   I was upset and angry.   I was never suicidal, but I would have traded this life, my young children, my newborn - all to be back in his arms.    The peace was THAT perfect.     I don't even remember if I told my husband or best friends about my dream that day.   It was my secret to keep.

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My first opportunity to share was a few months later when a good friend was on her death bed, dying at the age of only 30 with cancer.   I then thought... here is the reason God had let me have those moments.   To share with her.   I told her of my dream and told her not to be scared.    That even though she would meet him soon, she would be loosing nothing, but gaining everything.    And I left her that day with the task, "When you see him, tell him I can't wait to hug him again."   I didn't cry when she died.   I was jealous in a way.    I no longer have a fear of death.   This world is not my home.  The blessed hope.

Conversely, a few years later, a young mom I had been trying to get to go to church with me told me about her near death experience during open heart surgery.   She had been medically dead twice, and they brought her back.   While under, she said she was going down in a dark elevator.... looking up at her two daughters at the top and screaming for it to stop.   She said she had no idea what she was going down to... but it was intense FEAR.   Her heart raced and she was terrified.   Screaming until she awoke.  I told her about my dream, and how no matter what, I would NEVER be using that elevator.   I didn't have that fear.   I explained the Gospel but she insisted, she "just wasn't ready".   I have no idea what path she will eventually chose to walk, but I did as the Spirit led, and have peace in that.   It is her choice to make.

I tell you all this because the other night, I had only my second dream ever that I would describe as prophetic.   I was walking in the woods and came upon two bears feasting on something.   As I froze, one looked at me and came charging.   He was literally skin and bones.   But rose up to growl at me with huge, nasty teeth.    But instead of running, I stood tall.   I opened my arms to make myself big, and yelled as loud as I could.   I don't know about the bear, but I effectively scared my husband to death!!    Minutes later, as he held me and lay his head on my chest, both our hearts pounding - I felt God say: "They are evil.  And evil is bearing its teeth now.   Trying to scare you.   But they are dying.   It is time for Christians to stand tall.   Act Big.  And be LOUD."

So there you have it my friends.  The first blog I have written in years.    I share my experience only because I feel like whether we meet on that hill tomorrow, or 30 years from now, our time is short.   Be LOUD.    God triumphs over evil in the end.  Regardless of political parties, sin culture, or economic conditions.  But fight the good fight.   Stand on the side of righteousness and quit letting culture tell you to be quiet and stand down.   Call out evil against our children.   WE are children of a Mighty King.    And He is alive and moving in these last days.    We have the gifts of hope and a peace that they do not.  

For his children, he is waiting for you.   For those who are unsure, he is waiting for you to choose to meet him, it is still up to you.   I would never dream of choosing wrongly.

**the paintings are from a young prodigy named Akiane.    She painted "Prince of Peace" at age 8 from visions and dreams and noted it was his eyes she was most drawn to.    Her website and book showcase other paintings of Christ, his creation, his children, and Heaven.   

Kiddie Talk

I found this old post that was only a draft.. but looking at printing this blog and this one deserves its own page!    Seth is now 20, and Addison is 14. 

Well with all frustration and aggravation with our adoption process, I thought I would steer clear to a more lighter subject - my beautiful kiddos. And I realized I really needed to immortalize some of the hilarious things they have said in the past that still make me smile and remember why being a mom is just the best job in the world... on most days anyway... Seth (age 5) - singing at the top of his lungs, praising God, singing "Blesser be your name O Lord, blesser be your naaaaaame" Addison (age 4) - playing in the backseat with her dolls, Barbies introducing themselves to each other - "What's your name? My name's Calista. What's your name? My name's Addison. What's your name? My name's may-naise" (mayonnaise? why?) Addison (3) - flower = fla-ler. Sleeping Beauty = Sleepin Booty. Addison (4) - able to swim now! But has apparently watched too many Mermaid movies as she swims with her legs together and her little tushy just bobs up and down, up and down. Addison (4) - singing sweetly in the back seat, again with her dolls. Beautiful little song about how lovely the friends were. Ending in the phrase, "and then she bit him in the FAAAAce."

Hummus Habesha style

In Ethiopia, Habesha is their word for true Ethiopian.    I, however, am a ferenque.   And I'm cool with that.   As long as I can insert little moments of Ethiopian love into my life, I'm good.

Backstory: My dear sister Jerry loves me.  And brought me a Mac-Daddy bag of berbere when she came to visit a few months back.   And I'm not even going to tell you how excited I was to get the powder to make shiro.   Seriously, I was ecstatic.

Hence I am on a mission to find uses for that huuuuge container of berbere.   Add it to chicken salad?  Of course!   Dust baked chicken?  Sure.   Sprinkle it on plain popcorn?  Yes, please!!!!

And now, I present my new favorite - 

 

  Black Bean Berbere Hummus

Can I get an Amen to the sheer genius of this marriage? I actually had pinned a recipe for Black Bean Hummus on a Chef-in-Training site.    So if you aren't lucky enough to have berbere (I was having to order it from an Ethiopian spice company.   Seriously, go order some now.), you can use her combination of spices as well.   But for those of you who stashed berbere away on your trip back from Ethiopia, here ya go:

(I doubled her recipe to make enough for our small group.  So thankful I did!  Leftovers for lunch!)

2 cans black beans, drained and rinsed
4 T olive oil
1/2 lemon, juiced
2 T white wine vinegar
1 tsp kosher salt
2-3 T Berbere, depending on how much heat you like.   I used 2 T.
2-3 cloves of garlic, chopped

*combine all ingredients in a food processor and process until smooth.  Serve with veggies, tortilla chips, or homemade chips.

* I originally had made homemade corn tortilla chips with berbere as well.   Cut them in 6 pieces, place on baking sheet and spray with a good bit of cooking spray, and sprinkle with berbere and kosher salt.   Bake at 350 for around 10 min. until brown and crunchy.   Umm, they went quickly.   (I burned my second batch so didn't get a picture... figures).