The Power of Words

I was standing at the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem when a little boy ran past me with this shirt on. True story. It captivated me. I came straight home, found the shirt, bought it, and wore it until it was threadbare. Reactions were visceral. What's yours?  Writing children's books will help with this Peter Pan way of thinking, which a pretty big piece of me believes in completely. ***Photo taken just before zip lining across Niagara Falls with my mother. She was turning 60. I was turning 40. Niagara was...older than either of us. 

Lately, my thoughts have been so cluttered with details that I’ve needed some quiet in the ole brain. I’m finding it in three second increments. Starting small. Instead of glancing, I’m trying to gaze, for three short seconds that take me out of the clutter and into what I was made for.  It’s helping.  (Pic of my sister, Steppie and me in Colorado, a place packed with things to make you wonder.)

If God whispered a special secret about himself in one ear of each of the seven billion people on the planet, all those secrets compiled wouldn't fully paint the picture of who he is, not even when combined with all the billions who came before us.  However, he has done this very thing. He has given each of us a gift and a perspective that only we, with the help of his Spirit, can process into a tangible message. Once shared, this message reveals a bit more of his beauty to the world. Of course, it can't just be our processing, but it must be pressed through the sieve of his Word. It must align perfectly with his written Truth to escape being heresy. Why would he, after all, speak contradicting messages? He is Truth and Truth does not contradict itself.  The message he has given me is this: children must hear that they can feel God's love for them through his good Creation. ( For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—h

I like the smell of afternoons.  It's not like a lady's sweet perfume.  It's not like the lavender in bloom.  It's the smell of something other.  It's the smell of school and sweat and grass.  It's the smell of carpool lines and gas.  It's the smell of childhood as I watch it pass- this time, I'm the mother.  It's the smell of warm cheeks after naps; the smell of baseball gloves and caps.  It's the way sibling chapters overlap.  I'd pause if I had my druthers.  It's the scent of snacks and juice and hugs, of half-caff coffee in my mug,  of a playful puppy as he gives a tug-  he's so glad to be a brother! Afternoons have a special place.  You see, children need a special space to dance and laugh and play and race and one thing or another.  So I like the smell of afternoons,  Even if November is not like June,  These sweet hours hum their own tune And call childlikes to discover...  

Talk God chose words.  It's a funny thing.  He could have used hand motions,  music, or zings.  He could have sent lightning bolts down from the sky with special messages every July.  But God chose words to say what he said.  Some folks wrote them down  so God’s words would spread. And now people share them all over the place 'cause there is no beauty like God’s perfect grace.  God also chose words for people like us,  so that we can share- so that we can discuss, 'cause we have opinions, thoughts, and ideas, like “I like hard tacos, you keep your tortillas!” Now you can choose words to share who you are to those in your class  or to those in your car.  'Cause God made the words and God made you too! Its fun to let others know what makes you...YOU!

Tuesday is my birthday.  When I was young, my mom always deep cleaned the house on my birthday. The moment I walked in the house from the hot schoolbus, the mingled scents of Pine-Sol and Betty Crocker told my nose it was September 15th. (I've passed that love down to my own children, by the way, and you should try it too if you never have! It's a very festive combination!) We always have a family party. All four grandparents are with us and that is a gift from God. We eat and open presents like you do. My grandmothers sign their cards with the same exact John Hancock they've used since I was 1. It's a wonderfully calming rhythm to see that same signature every September for 41 years in a row and know there's love in the cursive.  Jim and the kids make a special dinner on my actual birthday night and I open gifts from them. Now that they are older, they often try the Pine-Sol and Betty combination and I find it endearing that my children are recreating my childhood.