Boundaries

The walls of my heart have boundaries...there are hidden things the likes you will never know.  

Secrets, only known by me and by God.

Some boundaries are self-made, intentionally erected and strong enough to sustain any intrusions.  Others are emotion-driven, self preservation attempts, instilled from past experiences and oftentimes failures.

Some boundaries appear when trust takes a back seat...or completely leaves the vehicle. 

 

Other boundaries come when disappointment rides rough shod over the best of intentions, making for strained relationships and you head for the loneliness and pity sections of your heart, vowing to never darken the doors again.

Healthy boundaries are allowable, even needed, but when boundaries lead to cynicism...beware.  When distrust rules the day, safety and security leave and respect crumbles.  Then anger fills in the crevices, followed by a callous heart, devoid of compassion and understanding...and forgiveness.

To let evil erect boundaries in my heart is not only dangerous but sinful.  To put all trust in anyone other than God is futile. 

Father God, please do not let me erect boundaries against you, but let me trust in you completely.  Help me to close my ears to the negative one who wants to tear down and destroy.  For you are my refuge and in you only can I find the calming peace for mind and soul.  

Life Spanning

There was once a time of innocence, when every second revolved around the most trivial, but mainly bracketed to the oneness of me.  Where familial was a house lived in and carried like an invisible cloak.

Where love flourished but taken for granted, and appearances wafted about in the periphery...there for the sharing or not.

Where personality developed, awareness took roots, and life ran through hoops, sharp turns and hilly terrain.

That terrain ran with lessons hard learned, bad decisions mingling with the good, and the race tiring.  Life is hard.

Looking is not always seeing.  Hearing is not always understanding.

Believing often leads not to committing.

Time that had once seemed interminable now speeds along as one chasing the wind...with reflections and wonders of the loss of it.

Listen to advice and accept instruction, that you may gain wisdom in the future. 

~ Proverbs 19:20

But maturity and wisdom begin to reign and take its rightful place in life, for the Creator forgets not His own and restores what is broken.

I've filled my days with details

And all the choices of the earth

Carried the yoke of worry

And all the burdens that it brings

So through the midst of all the rushing

You whisper to our hearts

And with Your sweet voice

You say to us

  To be still and know You are God  To be still and know You are God  Just to rest in Your arms

So give me peace and wisdom

To know how to fill my time

Where I can learn to keep You

At the centre of my life

So through the midst of all the rushing

There is time to spend with You

And my foundation

Will daily be

Written by: David Gate

Brokenness or Catalyst

Nameless, her shame still easily identified by her actions, she sought relief.  Simply a cool drink of water would do, despite the risk of being encountered, seen, ridiculed and hated.  

Her story is one of sin and disgrace...but also of grace, of forgiveness, of hope and of salvation.  

Yet we sometimes either water it down or embellish the details...turn it to our way of thinking...because it suits our purposes, supports our doctrine, or because it offends our senses otherwise.

The words are simply put, accurately described and provided for an example.  This was a broken woman, held hostage by her past, no matter the reasons for five husbands, and very likely labeled unfit for human contact; (the time of day has been well documented for the hottest sun in a heat sweltering country well acquainted with famine and hard times.) Who would venture out at such a time except to avoid harsh judgment by your peers, who at this time were probably resting in shade and shelter from a blistering sun?

We cannot, must not, try to clean up this woman or anyone else before they can come to the Savior!

Jesus answered her, “If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink,’ you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water.” (John 4:10)

Regardless of her circumstances or time of day, whether shunned by her peers or not, it was God's will that she be at that well at that precise moment to see and hear a message she could not keep hidden.

How like our Lord to use a woman, a woman of five husbands, a woman living without the benefit of marriage...to carry the Good News to her community.  And she never once hesitated to do so.  

Brokenness is where we all meet the Lord, whether it's early or late in our lives, regardless of the sin we carry.  It is knowing where you wallow, where you are stuck, where you are hopeless.  It is a matter of the heart. 

And along comes the Savior...just when the brokenness is agony and colored bitter.  Just when depressing shame resembles a well worn coat and helplessness wraps your neck like an old woolen scarf.

And He speaks.  

And He knows.

And with His wisdom, His love, His forgiveness, His encouragement, His MERCY, His GRACE...

...you are amazed, humbled and eager to share the Wonderful One who gives you Living Water.   

She is Ours

She walked in a little bit late...the kids had already gone to their Wednesday night Bible class. Walking down the aisle, we get a glimpse of reddish hair with a little bit of curl at the nape of a precious little neck. She sits, he turns, and big blue eyes begin to take in his surroundings with a smile hinting at those pouty lips.  

How short the time we have had to love this child, but love it is.  If he gives us the least bit of attention, we fawn, we coo, we laugh and our day is brighter and the world a better place.

There is no blood shared here.  We contributed nothing to his creation, to his birth, nor do we share in his hour to hour, day to day upbringing.  

Yet, he is ours.  He belongs to us. When he falls, we run to help; when he cries, we look for something to distract; when he smiles, we smile with pride.

Soon, he will join his fellow classmates, adoring the same teachers, learning to take his place among his peers.  They will become his mentors, his favs, his buddies and big sisters.

He is ours.

Yet, he is one of several.  Several of which we have watched take first baby steps, lose baby faces, grow physically, mentally and emotionally...reciting memory verses, leading their first songs and first prayers, taking on Christ in baptism and growing, growing, growing.

Ours.

Therefore, the hurt is undeniably bad; the anguish palpable and the mourning deep.  The loss is insurmountable...we cannot breathe...because one of ours is no longer with us.

No more bear hugs from this sweet one, no more fabulous cartwheels with splits to appreciate, no more conversation, and no more glimpses of a young girl growing into a young woman.  No, not from our Haven.  

But the memories loom large in our minds and we remember a sweet voice, and we grieve with our whole being, standing hand and hand with her parents and grandparents who love her so.  We grieve, we mourn, we remember and we believe...we believe that heaven is a little bit brighter, a little more joyful and lot more fashionable...because of one small child...our child.

For information on Haven's service, please go to 

http://www.tnfunerals.com/sitemaker/sites/HERITA9/obit.cgi?user=09938043_KEdmiston 

The Valued Life

Tiny and fragile he was born into this world.  A complicated delivery, the incubator became his next home.  

Joyful for a life, anxious for his survival, and confusion over a prognosis, a genetic problem rose in our face and it struck with thunder...a genetic problem found only within our family, apparently only affecting the male children...and not knowing where it might end.  

Twice this strange complication/blessing came into our lives, with one's temporary existence only six weeks.

The "Why" questions, so easy to formulate in our minds, become our wall of frustration, of madness. Our loving God permits, creates and delivers this heartbreak into our lives?  Why?

Seeing the dark, the sadness, and the burden prevents the vision of compassion, love and beauty!

So difficult to see a blessing when you are entrenched in the dark!

But one small child grows, overcoming very few obstacles but every step a milestone. Never able to speak, he communicated in gestures and mumbles and a smile. His stumbling gait began at a very late age, and holding on to chairs round the dining table, he would find his spot...in the lap of his beloved granddaddy.

At age 13, "Baby Brother" breathed his last as he slept near his big sister, going where his cousin of six weeks had already found his victory over a weakened body...to run carefree in God's vast heavens!

Leaving us behind, his existence had given us joy over grief, smiles over frowns, and happiness for every moment God shared him with us.  Our lives were enriched by the brokenness of a child, the wonderment of his tiny advances, and thankfulness for precious time with an angel in disguise.

Sometimes, we cannot gauge the loss until memories are all we have. 

Imprinted Lives

Tirelessly she works, scurrying here and there, with energy to spare and dedication-born. The turn-to woman, the first to raise her hand, the first to grasp the need and act.  The first to take responsibility and rely on her faith.  Watching her, I am mindful of the spirit of servanthood and what the love of Christ inspires us to be. 

A complicated man, relying on his spouse for earthly chattels while he pursued spiritual dealings, nevertheless the foundation was laid through his teaching.  I think of him often.

Generosity abundant, her hands purposely building and creating and gifting, her sweet countenance pouring love through soulful eyes, the gift of this friend and sister brings soothing and covers me with trusting affection.

A smile from across the room gives me assurance.  The nodding affirmation is a balm to my soul.  The attentiveness of one superior strengthens me to contribute, promoting in me the desire to do more than my best.

Looking back on life gives one perspective on where a kind word spoken meant the difference in failure and success, where the devotedness promoted and inspired perseverance through difficult tasks.

                            Every Touch Leaves an Impression ~ Dr. Edmond Locard

Each person left a mark on this life's journey, whether good or bad, and this life has left its own marks.  A sobering thought.

Faces of Hope

The message was clear, vibrant and full of promise.  The words were gratefully consumed to fill a hole deep within.  No matter that the voice had been heard before...because the need was too great, to fearful to not grasp at the fledgling of hope sounds and peaceable images perceived.

     ...Hope disguised.

Love came in tender moments, real or imagined, caressing and warm and light.  Too soon that same love reared an ugly head, and the blindness of one beguiled by the artifice of deceit falls face down in grief.

     ...Hope shattered.

The day was clear, bright and sunny, when the message came strongly and painfully honest, damaging and depressing the hope chords within, leaving the soul aching and tearfully demanding fairness be rectified.

     ...hope unseen.

The night skies twinkle with millions of stars, gently hinting at some greatness beyond, expanding itself visually and making smallness only where one stands.

     ...Hope awakened.

A very small-boned and very dirty, older man gathers his belongings.  He is no longer allowed to sleep on this concrete portion but must find another home to occupy.  As the steaming cup of coffee is offered in one hand and a sandwich in the other, his wizened face beams with joy for this small gift, for it will fortify him on his meanderings in a cold city.

     ...Hope has a face.

Life storms rage with disappointments aplenty.  Hardships come in all flavors and sizes and one never knows the depth until firmly planted in them.  We can choose to accept and wallow or to fight and conquer, to bury our heads in the sand or face head-on...and the choice is always there.

He who overcomes, I will grant to him to sit down with Me on My throne, as I also overcame and sat down with My Father on His throne. (Revelation 3:21)

Hope is alive and well.  God takes my hopelessness, my tears, my distress, my disappointments in life, and points me to the way home where I am meant to live in complete joy for all eternity.

 ...but thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.                       (1 Cor. 15:57)

...Hope is Jesus Christ.


Lord, I thank you for this hour, this day, this time in my life, whether troubled or peaceful.  I thank you for the hope only You can provide.  I love you, Lord!