Scavenger Hunt for Joy

My birthday was in March. When it came around, my children came up with a wonderful adventure present. They wished to go with me to a museum. It was such a lovely idea and one I was so pleased to realize they had thought of themselves. We had never been to an art museum together, and I do love a good walk through an art museum. Sadly, time got away from us, and we had to put off our plans for another day.

Determined, the children nor I gave up on the idea, and this summer I took some time off to bring our plan to fruition. We planned a special week of activities in Memphis, and one included a trip to the Brooks.

When we arrived on our designated Wednesday morning, we were delighted to find that the entire day was dedicated to children’s exploration of the museum. A special art deco popsicle project had been planned, and a scavenger hunt throughout the museum designed. It was a wonderful, wonderful morning. The scavenger hunt kept the children engaged throughout our entire visit, and we managed to visit every single gallery.

This certainly will be a memory that stays with me, but there is a stand out moment that continues to come back to me quite regularly. After studying an inlaid desk featured in the red gallery and making faces at one another in the concave mirror featured above it, we rounded the corner to the next gallery. Suddenly, I was winded by the sight of the enormous oil painting in our path. Time stopped, my heart raced, my eyes zoomed in to the piece of work, and I had to grab my children by their shoulders to steady myself. Truly in front of us stood a portrait of heaven. There were angels turned towards one another smiling in delight as they all acknowledged a bright light coming from the darkness below. While their heavenly colors were in happy shades of blue, pink, peach, and purple of the sunrise or sunset, they looked through the clouds down towards a pure darkness. What they saw brought them unbounded joy. A great light was breaking through the darkness and reaching towards heaven. “Aha,” they seemed to say, “See there she is…there he is…breaking through the darkness and shedding light in the world. We knew she could. We knew he could. How wonderful. How wonderful indeed.”

My children were ready to go on to the next scavenger hunt item and didn’t recognize my pause. Once words could come to me though I managed to hold my babies close and say, “Oh, look children, isn’t it beautiful. Someone has captured the joy of heaven when we share love and light in the world.” I gazed lovingly at the painting, and my children humored me. Then we were off again.

Love bursts of light in our hearts are powerful but can seem fleeting as well as daunting to act upon. It is hard to stay in that moment for long, but the love lingers. The light reminds us, it is more powerful than darkness and needs only be turned on or shown the way. 

This painting, this moment still shines a path for me through the darkness. May it be the love and light you need today, too.

With love and light,

LT

Beast of Burden

That donkey, that donkey, that sweet little donkey has been on my mind for many weeks now. That donkey, that donkey, who carried His burden has brought me closer to God.

He already knew. He knew what was coming, but thank God He was granted this gift. A moment of rest, a reminder of care as His journey was unfolding before Him. He wasn’t alone; that donkey, that donkey, that support that awaited his arrival. That donkey, that donkey, that little beast of burden took on the weight of Jesus and carried him through. He gave Him that moment to take in the cheers to take in the love of the children. When Jesus moved towards that valley alone, no, the donkey was there to carry Him.

Years before another young person was carried towards a new beginning, this time, a young woman who said yes. When she finally became so heavy with life and could not walk on her own, there was that donkey that helped her to a stable where joy was revealed.

So again we find ourselves years later, after saying many wonderful things and doing many wonderful deeds, this woman’s son also riding a gentle donkey towards another powerful chapter in His life and ours. It is the Wednesday before Maundy Thursday, the last supper begins, and Jesus has what he needs.

This Holy Week, I give thanks for the donkey, the reminder we’re never alone. When we feel the most alone through our trials and tribulations, remember like Jesus, there was the donkey. The donkey, the beast of burden.

I leave you today with love and light and this poem that has been with me since I was a teenager. LT

Footprints in the Sand

By Mary Stevenson, 1936

One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord. Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky.

In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand. Sometimes there were two sets of footprints, other times there was one only.

This bothered me because I noticed that during the low periods of my life, when I was suffering from anguish, sorrow or defeat, I could see only one set of footprints, so I said to the Lord, “You promised me Lord, that if I followed you, you would walk with me always. But I have noticed that during the most trying periods of my life there has only been one set of footprints in the sand. Why, when I needed you most, have you not been there for me?”

The Lord replied, “The years when you have seen only one set of footprints, my child, is when I carried you.”

Love in Death

I’ll never forget the moment as a child when I realized my parents could die. I thought my heart would wrench itself from my rib cage. I couldn’t breathe. I was devastated. When I could no longer stand the night’s darkness and sadness alone, I ran down the hallway on my bare feet, and my parents wrapped their loving arms around me as I wept.

Tonight for my William and Abby, the trigger came surprisingly from the last chapter of a story we thought we knew well. We were all curled up throughout Abby’s room with special lovies, blankets, and pillows, as I read through the last pages. A few sentences caught me off guard myself, but I didn’t realize the depths of my children’s hearts they were reaching. Sweet loving babes.

William was the first. His face hidden in his pillow, he wept for his granddad and gripped the stuffed lion with the heart on its paw, the last gift from a sweet man who loved Valentine’s Day. Abby quickly followed. My steady Abby suddenly appeared downstairs. One minute she was thinking of puffy pink unicorns and the next she was unexplainably scared.

Their daddy hugged them, and I spoke gently, stroking their brows and holding them on my lap.

Our hearts with their great capacity to love can hurt so when that love feels lost, but we must remember that one of God’s greatest gifts is that death does not take that love away. It enables us to be with that love always. For if God who is always with us is love, and we love our loved ones so, then even when they go to be with God they are with us always in God’s love. We are so blessed to have the time to build many, many memories to carry with us in our hearts so that when we do feel that hurt our memories will remind us of our love and comfort us.

Death is not easy, but in it God’s greatest gift of love is revealed in its rawest form. Jesus reminds us of this.

Dear children, I love you so. Hurting does happen, but love does heal. May you find comfort in the love of your mommy and daddy, your grandparents, aunts, uncles, friends, and each other. You are surrounded by our love and God’s, always. Your hearts are so big. I love the way you love and care.

With love and light,

LT

Just Be Nice

My friend Lisa’s request of her children growing up was “just be nice.” My ears perked up when she first shared this with her cheerful smile and loving laugh to our weekly Bible study. With all the responsibilities of parenthood weighing upon me with my small children, I was somewhat relieved to hear words of wisdom that seemed to both simplify and set such high expectations all at once.

Yes, let’s be nice. Let us be kind.

Sometimes I’m not nice. It’s quite frustrating. I know I’m doing it. I know that I’m crossing a line I don’t want to cross, and darn it, I cross it anyway. I complain. I snap. I fester. Why, why, why is it so hard?

After church and lunch with my family this afternoon, I had the great fortune of attending the graduation ceremony at Lausanne Collegiate School. Kanya Balakrishna, a 2005 graduate and the founder of The Future Project, was on hand to deliver the commencement speech. She’s quite impressive.

She challenged the graduates to write a “life sentence,” something that would guide them from this day on (for life). She explained that the world would work to define them by talent, gender, skin tone and more but that their individual passions could help to combat the box in which the world may trap them. She asked each of us, graduates, faculty and staff, family and friends alike to consider our own life sentences.

At eight years old, hers had been to change the world. Her life sentence had been redefined a bit over the years, but regardless of the goals and ambitions she had set at other points in her life, she had ultimately come back to this life sentence created at the age of eight.

Kanya is changing the world. She’s changing it through a different path than she expected to follow, but she is changing it for the better every day.

As she was speaking, I already had my life sentence echoing in my mind. I didn’t need the sixty seconds of silence Kanya offered to craft it; it was already ringing in my ears.

“I want to be light and love in the world so that every person I meet may recognize kindness.”

So easy to proclaim in my head. And then Kanya says, “Now, I want you each to take a moment to tell the person sitting next to you your life sentence.” Eeek.

I knew I was supposed to say my life sentence to the person on my right. I was nervous. He said his. I said mine, but I added, “I try, but I know I fall short.” I knew he would know.

I do fall short, but I do want to fully live into my life sentence. It would be my greatest joy to live that sentence to the fullest. I sometimes think I know what it will take and sometimes I get confused. I know I’m not the only one that struggles with this challenge.

I do believe that I can bring light and love in this world. I know I can show each person I meet kindness. It will take vigilance. It will take practice. It will take more than me.

This morning the choir sang one of my favorite anthems by John Rutter with words from a Sarum Primer prayer, “God be in my head, and in my understanding; God be in mine eyes, and in my looking; God be in my mouth, and in my speaking; God be in my heart, and in my thinking; God be at mine end, and at my departing.”

For hundreds and thousands of years, people have been dedicating themselves to kindness. I find great comfort that they also asked for help; they also knew who would provide them support and strength.

Thank you God for the constant reminders of our callings. Thank you for the gifts of voice and song that inspire us to live fully. I pray that I can open my heart fully to you so that you will be in my thinking and speaking that I may share your love with the rest of the world.

#Godislove 

 

With love and light,

LT

When God Shouts At You

Children love a good joke. I especially love the ones they make up themselves. My baby sister had a particularly great one about a turtle and a bucket that made no sense whatsoever, but it made us laugh just the same.

One of the first real jokes I can recall memorizing is one that continues to provide me deeper inspiration today. Here goes…

It started to rain pretty heavily in a small town. Seeing that the waters were rising, a man climbed onto his roof to wait out the storm. A man in a rowboat came by and asked the man if he wanted to come along with him. The man on the roof shook his head and said, “The Lord will provide.” The man on the rowboat shook his head and rowed away. An hour or so later as the floodwaters had continued to rise up the side of the house, a man in a motorboat came along. He asked the man on the roof if he wanted to come along with him. The man on the roof shook his head and said, “The Lord will provide.” A few hours later the water was lapping at the man’s feet on the roof. A man in a helicopter came by and asked if he wanted to come along with him. The man on the roof shook his head and said, “The Lord will provide.” Within the hour, the floodwaters took over the house; the man on the roof was swept away, drowned and died. He found himself in Heaven face to face with the Lord. He said to God, “Dear Lord, why am I here. Why did you not save me?” And the Lord said, “What else did you want me to do? I sent you a row boat, a motor boat and a helicopter.”

What a difficult battle we fight. We’ve been given these amazing brains, hearts and bodies; these amazing abilities; these amazing gifts. How incredible and fulfilling it is when we use them. We dare to believe…to believe in ourselves and to boldly make a difference in the world around us.

But, somehow, there always seems to be a but…something that nags at us.

But is this what I was called to do? Am I living fully? Could I be doing more for others? Could I be happier? Could this be easier?

Sometimes the light shines so brightly we can’t help but bask in God’s glory knowing that all is right in the world. We give great thanks. Other times, we wonder…are we on the right path? It sort of feels like it, but sometimes things seem quiet…too quiet.

And so, let me introduce to you the blessing of God shouting. Maybe it’s not really shouting, but it seems like that because if you’ve finally gotten yourself centered, thoughtful and quiet enough or into a tizzy of white noise, you might begin to hear or to notice hints being thrown your way. It might start to feel like shouting.

In the last week, God has been shouting at me.

The radio show asked, “What are you waiting for? When are you going to start writing?”

A daily meditation I read reflected, “Are you living into your calling? Are you writing?”

A church friend (or two) asked me, “When are you going to write your book?”

A young person preached my own words back to me without knowing I had shared them in the first place, and several friends and readers texted or emailed me to let me know.

My beloved mother-in-law questioned me, “Have you been blogging, writing down your thoughts?”

So what is it about living life that still leaves me wanting? What have I been waiting for…that rowboat, that speed boat, that helicopter? Is God sitting there stumped wondering what it will take to inspire my gifts to use?

How many life rafts will I need before I drown? Drown in my own self pity because I won’t listen. Drown in my own unhappiness because I’m avoiding something that brings me joy and fulfillment but is hard and takes time. Drown in my dissatisfaction because I feel like I’m not being the full me I was meant to be.

These suggestions do not mean total change, but there is always room for adjustment and improvement. I’ll take it. I’m blogging today.

How is God shouting at you?

With love and light,

LT