Talking to Angels and Crickets...

REGARDING PSALM 103  ~

Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me bless His holy name!  Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all His benefits: who forgives ALL my sin, who heals all my diseases, who redeems my life from the pit, who crowns me with His steadfast love and mercy, who satisfies me with good so that my youth is renewed like the eagle's.  ....

When I sit to read God's word this morning, it envelopes me with it's deliciousness. I want to rush through the chapters and gorge on it, but the richness, and deep sweetness is found in tiny increments for me to savour and contemplate as I read each word, each phrase, each line. [For instance, I just love how many hundreds of times I see the word, "steadfast" used before the word "love", when describing God's love towards me.] 

My heart pounds as I read aloud in this empty room, the words of Psalm 103.... when I get to talk to the angels who stand in God's presence and do his bidding...I want to shout...shout loud enough to reach across the expanse of all creation so as to reach the ears of every last one of them and command them to bless the Lord with me!! "Bless the Lord, O you his angels, you mighty ones who do his word, obeying the voice of his word! Bless the Lord, all his hosts, his ministers who do his will!"

I like to think about the little crickets and clouds, the trees and wildflowers and stars all hearing me tell them to bless God with me. "Bless the Lord, all his works, in all places of his dominion..."

By the time I reach the next to the last phrase of the Psalm, instead of shouting, my eyes are filled with tears and my voice quiets and faulters.  I find myself at just a raspy whisper as I return to the final words: "Bless the Lord, O my soul."  I realize how very small I am in the scope of all creation and eternity.  If the angels are busy and don't pay me any heed, if the stars have all fallen asleep, if the cacophony of the traffic drowns out the sound of my voice so the wildflowers and trees and crickets don't join me....even if I am all alone in this tiny corner of the earth, I will bless the Lord, with a full heart and overflowing soul.

BLESS THE LORD, O MY SOUL, AND ALL THAT IS WITHIN ME BLESS HIS HOLY NAME!

They Also Serve Who Only Stand and Wait...

Ready or not, a new year has begun. Budgets, diets, schedules, and new lists of resolutions should be made by now...here in this 3rd week of January.  I like the feeling of hopefulness about all that lies ahead, but I have to admit, another feeling competes with that hopefulness. It's a feeling of "Wait a minute! I am at the starting line, the guy has just fired the gun to start the race, but where are we running? How far do we have to go? and WHY are there not pointers showing which way to even run?!" 

Do you ever feel that way?  Spiritually, I am especially aware of this deep hunger to be found in the center of God's will, doing whatever He has in mind...but I am clueless as to what that actually is!  My pessimistic mind usually fills in the blank with whatever is least desirable or requires the most amount of self denial, forcing the Holy Spirit, like a referee stepping in, to gently remind me that is not how God "wills".

A couple years ago, in a study with my mentors, Sara and Ava, we studied this beautiful poem by John Milton, that has stuck with me ever since, and given me peace on these days when I wait...

On His Blindness
John Milton (1604-1674)

When I consider how my light is spent

Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,

And that one Talent which is death to hide

Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent

To serve therewith my Maker, and present

My true account, lest He returning chide,

"Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?"

I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent

That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need

Either man's work or his own gifts. Who best

Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state

Is kingly: thousands at his bidding speed,

And post o'er land and ocean without rest;

They also serve who only stand and wait."

Happy First Day of Autumn!

We Have This Moment

We have this moment to hold in our hands

And to touch as it slips through our fingers like sand

Yesterday's gone and tomorrow may never come

But we have this moment, today.

Hold tight to the sound of the music of living

Happy sounds from the laughter of children at play

Hold my hand as we walk through the sweet fragrant meadows

Making memories of what was today.

Tiny voice that I hear is my little girl calling

For daddy to hear just what she has to say

My little boy running there by the hillside

May never be quite like today.

Tender words gentle touch and a good cup of coffee
And someone who loves me and wants me to stay
Hold them dear while they’re near don’t wait for tomorrow
To look back and wish for today.


Yesterday's gone and tomorrow may never come
but we have this moment, today.
- Gloria Gaither

My date with Jesus...

I was really wanting a date tonight, but that didn't work out, so I dressed all up and had a date with Jesus. We ate Kippered herring on Ryecrisps out on the porch. We didn't talk much, but watched the frogs and turtles on the pond's edge, and listened to the birds sing their evening songs. He turned the sky extra blue, and made the clouds all fancy, and I just sat and smiled up at him.

The Day of Michael Jackson's Funeral

I sit in front of a live broadcast of the memorial service for Michael Jackson, and the surrounding activities in his honor.


I can't help but wonder if Michael ever caught a glimpse of eternity. They say he was raised Jehovah's Witness, but "dabbled" in Christianity, Islam, and Kabbalah. Did he hear God calling him by name, whispering in the silence, singing over him as he cried for the arms of a Father's loving emrace that was so foreign to him on earth?


Life only begins here. There are only a certain number of breaths and moments we are given in this mortal body before eternity breaks upon us, and this vapor of mortal life is past.


So whether we are given just a few, or a great many breaths down here, would it not seem that every one of them should strain toward what lies beyond this, what will last forever?


I think I would rather be sitting on some high mountain looking over the rim to watch the first rays of a sunrise burst into view, small at first, sprinkling through the trees, and bringing music and color and hope to everything it kisses. It whispers, "wake up.", and if I am very silent, and very still, I can hear it.