Amanda

He calls you Loved.

August 30, 2016 by Amanda

God doesn’t want to be a stranger.

He doesn’t condescend our failures, He descended to our places. He walked our dusty paths and traveled well-worn roads to meet us.

He’ll come and meet you, right where you are.

God is not unknowable.

He doesn’t stand aloft, aloof; He waits patiently for invitation.

He wants you to cry out to Him, call on Him, count on Him.

He is not mad and overbearing; You cannot sin more than He can forgive.

You cannot make more mistakes than He can use.

There is no tear He cannot comfort, no trial He will not walk you through.

He doesn’t want you to be afraid.

God doesn’t want to stand off at a distance, watching, waiting.

He’ll reward you if you seek.

He has plans for you, he has hope for you, he has a future and you are in it.

He has wisdom for you, if you want it. He gives it freely when you ask.

He has strength for you, when you are weak in the knees, and He has rest when you are weary. He has perfect peace when all you’ve got is turmoil.

He knows your needs before you ask, your heartaches, your sorrows, the little things that delight your heart.

He has meaning for your life, and purpose.

God doesn’t want to keep you at arms length; He isn’t far away.

God wants to wrap you in His loving arms.

He heals your broken heart, he bandages your wounds.

He takes away your tears, and seals them up in a bottle.

He washes away the dust and stink of your dirty feet.

He wants you to know and hear and heed the whisper of His voice.

He sings for joy because of you.

He calls you friend, He calls you child, He calls you firstborn.
He calls you Loved.

Romans 5:11, NLT So now we can rejoice in our wonderful new relationship with God because our Lord Jesus Christ has made us friends of God.

I know that God is always working, never sleeping, never lazy. He is not loligagging about on Sunday morning with coffee, and paper, and slightly crooked reading glasses while He waits for the Mrs. to make His over-easy eggs. I know that God is ever loving; He is not standing back and pointing fingers, consternation in His eyes, glaring at my paltry attempts of goodness or rightness or simply being honest. I know that God has purpose, and plan, and wisdom for those who seek. He is not willy-nilly sending lightning bolts or sickness or creating obstacles for us to overcome and yet those things come. Somehow, they still come.

I know that God is good and He is mystery and love and light and strength and depth and joy and I cannot comprehend how I can know these things and yet feel the awful dread begin to rise, like a knotted up stomach dawning like the sun, growing hotter, bigger, faster. It’s as if my head and heart just aren’t on speaking terms when one knows that God is good and one is faced with fear, and weakness, and yes, yes, a faltering, failing, knee-weakening anxiety. And what must have I done to deserve this fear and yes, yes, this faltering, failing, knee-weakening anxiety?

My thoughts toss around like a toy boat in a whirl pool, and I question everything I’ve thought so far. And I wish that God would speak to me, and comfort me, and tell me I am on the right path, the right track, not lagging in the passing lane or stalling in the turn with broken blinker, without brakes. I ask God to show me what He’s up to, what He’s planted, what will grow, and where I’ll go. If I only knew what He was thinking. And speaks to me, He does, with gentle, prodding words that are a healing soothing balm that seals the cracks in my weary little soul. He says in words that only my heart can hear,

“Just watch.”

And peace settles in like the dust, and my heart is calmed like the moonbeam shadows on a cool clear night. God’s voice, softer than a whisper, louder than the ocean, restores my faith, bandages my broken places, sparking deep-rooted joy that only comes riding on the waves of His mercies.

His voice, His words. his Words created the world, His words stilled the storm, his words written in His Book, His words spoken in my heart. There is unspoken power in His words. Unending Grace. Indefatigable hope.

“Just watch”

The Daily Chicken: Too Cute for Words

August 20, 2016 by Amanda

Meet Snapchat

August 13, 2016 by Amanda

Baby announcement!

Meet Snapchat, our very first baby born on the homestead.

Snapchat is a silky chicken, as you can tell by his/her small stature and extra toes. Snapchat is an adorable teeny sleepy little baby chick. And I am in awe at God’s little miracles and this tiny life that hatched in our chicken coop, discovered by the hubby when we he stopped in to gather the eggs. The telltale peeping gave it away and I couldn’t wait to run in and snap a few pics.

But things don’t always run so smoothly on the the homestead! Due to severe and surprising rooster aggression, we had to say farewell to our beloved Captain Jack a few weeks ago. There is no reason to keep a roo gone mean and we made sure his farewell was as kind and polite as possible. It was sad and disappointing but necessary for the safety of all who reside on and visit our homestead, including the chickens. But he left in his wake 2 broody hens with only unfertilized eggs to sit on. So we borrowed a few fertilized silky eggs, because those hens were new to laying and showed no signs of being brood. We delivered them to the broody wyandottes, hoping that all would work out well. But it didn’t.

The broody mama sitting on the silky eggs just didn’t take to Snapchat and gave her a great big peck and a wound. So we rescued poor Snapchat at just a few hours old and she is now quietly resting in the piano studio. To be honest, we weren’t really sure if Snap would make it through the night. But she’s a fighter and so far seems to be doing everything a baby chick should, peeping, drinking, sleeping, and hopefully, eating, too. Sometimes, broody hens get confused and kill their babies, so we’ll have to keep a close eye on those eggs to see if any more babies hatch. If they do, we can bring them in to snuggle up to Snapchat. If they don’t, we’ll need to ‘break’ mama hen of her broodiness, which is a whole other post and a whole other day. For now, we are just enjoying our baby grandchick and hoping she recovers well from the henpecking she received.

In the meantime, we have a silky hen whose gone all broody on us. Perhaps there are more grandchicks on the way!

Edit: We found another tiny baby in the coop! Still ‘wet’ from breaking out of the egg. Meet Baby Twitter!

I want to be great.

August 12, 2016 by Amanda

I want to be great.

Is that so wrong? To want to be great if greatness happens for great reasons? I want to great so I can write great blog posts that apply a loving dose of healing balm to the tender, irritated places of your heart. I want to be great so I can write great books that move you to do even greater things in the name of Christ. I want to write great sermons that inspire you to run straight into the open loving arms of Jesus. I want to be a great mom whose kids know that they are loved. I want to be a great mom who teaches her kids to care for others. I want to be a great mom who raises great kids who love Jesus. I want to be a great wife who is best friends with her hubby. I want to be a great homesteader who grows delectable meals and takes care of the environment. I want to be a great investor and do amazing things with the money I am allocated in this life. And I am so busy, so busy just trying to be great.

I want to be great.

And I work hard at so many things so that I can be great and so I can help you be great and so I can help my kids and my husband and my family and my homestead be great. And God knows how badly I want to be great and God knows how desperately I want to make a difference in this world and God knows how passionate I am to help others be nearer to Him even when they seem like they are kind of far away from Him. God knows I want to be great and that kind of sounds like great pride even if it is for great reasons.

But God has not called me to be great.

God has called me to Himself. And God says there is no point in being great, Amanda, if you aren’t close to Me. And God says, there is no point in writing great sermons if writing great sermons keeps you from spending precious time with Me. Stay close to Me and worry less about being great and doing great and looking great because greatness is emptiness in a prettied up package. And so I struggle with greatness because I want to be great and I know if I try so hard to be great I’ll be missing out on something and Someone even better than greatness. And so I struggle and strain to give up my idea of the great because that thing I want even more, that burning desire, is not for greatness itself but for the One who is greater than all. And my greatness is pride all prettied up and a knot in my stomach because I can’t even measure up and I ache to be great even though greatness is less than best.

I want to be great but what my heart needs greatest is Jesus.

And I’ll just let that simmer and work on my heart, on that tender irritated spot on my heart that needs the healing balm of Jesus to wipe away the pride and the need to be great and I’ll let Him speak in the quiet and work on that spot so that my need to be great is quenched by nothing less than His love.

His love is great, greater, and greatest. .

Time, It Just Fritters

August 4, 2016 by Amanda

Sunrise and sunset, the dawning and the drawing to a close. The beginning and the ending. The new and the old.

Sunrise, finds me wading through the garden mud, coffee cup in one hand, hose in the other, weeding, watering, picking, pruning. Planting and praying. Ready for the dawning of the fresh new day, full of possibility and potential. Ready for growth. Poised for hope. Pleading for His Grace, with mistakes looming on the horizon, not yet made. Awaiting my moment.

“Lord, walk with me. Like you walked with Adam and Eve in the Garden. In the cool of the day.”

“Help me, Lord, keep in step with You.”

“Give me grace, today, Lord; I have many mistakes that I will make.”

“Have mercy on me” I breathe. “Thank You, Lord, for fresh new mercies. I need them. ”

Sunset finds me in much the same way. Playing hide and seek with zucchini and peppers and quickly pinking tomatoes for breakfast while hubby gathers up some eggs. There is comfort in the nightly rhythm, roosters and hens putting themselves to bed. The silent flight of the Great Horned Owl, perching overhead, and swooping away. The hush of night sweeping over the homestead, as children and animals softly drift to sleep. There is peace and there is Presence. Yes, He is present in our rhythms and routines, making sacred the chores and making holy, the dirty work.

“Forgive me, Lord, for not keeping pace with You. For running ahead, and lagging behind. For not wholly trusting in You.”

“Give me strength to finish this day well.”

“Help me, Lord, have a better day tomorrow.”

“Fill me, Lord. Fill me.”

The in-between is a flurry and a scurry of activities, appointments, cooking, and cleaning, working, writing, and frittering. Oh, the frittering of time. It escapes me, those precious seconds, worth more than diamonds and rubies and gold. They seem to get lost in the shuffle, wasted on Facebook and Craigslist and somehow, it seems, nothing at all. In a flash, they are gone and I am left wondering where did those precious fleeting frittering moments go?

“Forgive me, Lord, for wasting this precious gift.”

Time is a gift that we can never get back. Money comes in and goes, and things can be replaced and repaired, or even done without, and even health can be restored but time, time never returns. Once it has passed, it is behind and only the present exists. I hate that I let it get away. I despise my frittering of that which is so fleeting.

“Help me, Lord, to fully live in this moment. Perfectly in step with You. Resting in Your Love, working in Your Grace, expectant because of Your Hope, and fully alive and fully present. I want to live fully, in Your Presence. I want to live this moment.”

“Lord, thank You for this moment.”

This is my moment. This is a gift.

When you don’t feel spiritual

June 29, 2016 by Amanda

Lest we feel like less of a God-follower. Lest we feel unspiritual. Lest we feel like we aren’t spiritual enough, good enough, holy enough to have visions and dreams and holy moments that are unmistakably from God. Lest we compare our walk with God to the walk of the ancients, the mystics, the monks. Lest we feel less, God loves our efforts made in faith, our moments crafted in hope, our days tagged by belief.

Yet, I love reading about the early Christians and their mystical experiences with God. I find their stories to be amazing and beautiful expressions of the unfathomable mysteries of our God. Some of them seem far-fetched, yet the authors of the stories – Julian of Norwich, Bernard of Clairveaux, Francis of Assisi – believed in their personal experiences of God. Visions, dreams, and other special experiences of God are beautiful gifts, sparkling gems in the dark of night! These are gifts to be cherished, yes. Special blessings, yes. Daily occurrences? Not necessarily.

I love my quiet times with Jesus. I need them. I crave them. I miss them when I don’t have one. They are like a healing balm for the chapped places of my soul, a convicting presence in the wayward moments of my thoughts, and an unceasing hope for my weakness and weariness. But not every quiet moment with Jesus is a shining gem of mystery, not every verse is a defining moment for my soul. Some prayers are rife with my own distracting thoughts, some interrupted by the presence of others, some verses lost to the busy of my day. Every day touched by the supernatural God, miraculously blessed, but not every day is rife with visions or dotted with mystical experiences of our Maker.

We don’t have to have the ‘feeling’ of God’s presence to know and trust that He is near.

We don’t have to have the ‘feeling’ of God’s ear to know that He hears the cry of our hearts and the cry of our voices.

We don’t have to see visions or dream dreams to know that God is speaking through His Word and speaking through His world and speaking through His people.

Perhaps we forget that God is in the mundane as much as He is in the mysterious.

Perhaps we forget that God speaks into the daily rhythms of life even as He speaks in the miraculous.

Perhaps we forget that God is always with us and often, it is we who are not present with Him.

Perhaps the spiritual life is not an endless defining moment of overpowering Presence, but a daily cultivating of the knowledge and awareness of His presence. Perhaps the spiritual life is a pressing on, a pressing forward, a growing up into the heart of Christ, the knowledge of Christ, the wisdom of Christ, in spite of the challenges that threaten to hold us back. An intentional effort of belief against all odds, a faith that never gives in despite the world’s pressing in. Perhaps the greatest rewards will come when we believe what God has spoken no matter what we feel. No matter what we’re doing. No matter when.

God is near.

God hears.

God loves.

Do you believe it?

I am Plan B.

June 14, 2016 by Amanda

They are my Plan A.

I always wanted them. Never for a second did I have to hesitate, to wonder if they were the wrong ones for me.

In that moment, I chose to give them my love and never ever take it back. When I received that call from the social worker requesting a placement, I chose yes. I chose them. In that moment, I had the privilege of choice and I am so glad I could choose to make them my Plan A. In that moment, I would do it all over again.

In that moment, they were never given that choice. They didn’t get to choose the house they live in. They didn’t get to choose who would fill that role as mom and dad. In that moment, they didn’t get to choose what their future would be like. And in that moment, they would never have chosen me. I was their Plan B. And I’m ok with that because they didn’t have the chance to chose, didn’t have the wisdom to choose, didn’t have the years to know if they even needed to choose. They didn’t get to choose at all.

They didn’t get to choose to leave the only home they ever knew. They didn’t get to choose to leave the only people they ever though of as Mom and Dad. They didn’t get to choose to stay with sights and sounds and smells that were familiar. They didn’t get to keep their bed or their sofa or their favorite chair. They weren’t given choice at all. But they wouldn’t have chosen me, a stranger, unfamiliar, different. They didn’t choose Plan B. They would have chosen their Plan A, but they didn’t get to choose.

And so they grieve. In that moment, their grief is strong and hard and they do not have the words to tell it. They grieve the things they cannot understand, they grieve for missing lovies, and lost dollies, and left-behind toys and they grieve the world they left behind. They grieve for familiarity and family and foods and friends; they grieve their pets and their people, they grieve for things that maybe weren’t so good for them but they were the only things they may have had. Their grief is real and there really is no way to get around it. You cannot placate grief with lollipops or lessen pain with popsicles. You cannot make it ever go away, as each new stage and each new age brings new understanding of loss and gain and grief. And so they grieve on and on, in different ways on different days.

But time goes on, and we practice sharing the light and love and grace of Jesus and we practice giving hope and help and most of all we practice Love. And unfamiliarity gives way to comfortable and comfortable unfolds gently, softly, sweetly, into love. And Plan A and Plan B come together, somehow, someway, sometime, and make something so new and beautiful and shared and I am so grateful for it all. And every bit of laughter, every lasting hug, or late night talk; every meal and moment shared, every booboo kissed and every homework assignment completed together, and every holiday and every bit of help and hope lead to healing and healing leads to joy that is immeasurable. And the heavy weight of grief begins to lighten as we learn how to carry that load, together.

The Master Gardener

June 6, 2016 by Amanda

I love my garden. It is my oasis, my grocery store, my space to be quiet and think, my sanctuary to meditate, an emblem of hope for the fruit and vegetables that are to come. Growth is slow, it is not instant. My little plot is far from finished. I have lots more seeds to plant. Some of them are waiting because I haven’t had time to construct their trellis. Some are waiting because I like to plant in succession, so that I have lettuces and kales all summer long.

Their are spots of ground still waiting to be tilled, spots to be planted, spots to be weeded, and spots to be harvested. The gardener needs to get in there and get to work.

Isn’t that just like life? We have places in life that are bearing good fruit, parts of lives that need to be weeded, parts that aren’t yet ready to grow fruits, and seeds that have yet to be put in the ground. But we cannot get to know the Master Gardener, Jesus Christ, and expect Him not to work the soil of our lives, till the unbroken ground of our hearts, or plant the seeds of new dreams. He will gently, lovingly, kindly transform us into the beautiful, fruit bearing garden He has planned for us to be.

John was a disciple of Jesus, and in his writings, we know him for his thoughts on loving God and loving each other. But John wasn’t always that way – not until he left the Master Gardener in. When John became a disciple of Christ, he wasn’t known for his love. He was known for his rash and impulsive behavior, he was known as a smelly fisherman, a Son of Thunder. But Jesus didn’t kick John out of the disciple club. But somehow, Jesus got into the soil of his heart and began to transform him from the inside out. And then we came to know John as someone we trust, who shows us how to love God and each other. (Think 1 John 4:7-19). The brash, rash, impetuous young man became transformed by the loving, pruning, harvesting hand of Jesus.

What areas of your life are ready to harvest delicious nutritious fruit? What areas haven’t even been tilled? What needs pruned? Planted? Have you turned the whole garden over to the Gardener? Or are you hiding some spots away?

May 25, 2016 by Amanda

This world makes my head spin in crazy circles and it makes my breath catch and my stomach lurch when I think of all of the bad things that could and might and will happen in the lives of my precious little babies, these small people, so fresh on this earth, sprouting and growing and still rich in their innocence and wonder and joy and the peace of their unknowingness. So easily could I give in to the fear of the ‘what-ifs’ and and the regret of the ‘should-haves’ and ‘could-haves’ and ‘what if I hadn’ts.’ And so easily I could give over my heart to the hurts I see and the hatred I see and the pain and the fear and the trouble that I know lurks and leers in darkness and corners. And I worry that my precious little tots will never be able to navigate this life and I fear what might happen when I’m gone and I can no longer shield them from the hard, and the worrisome, and the things that might break their tiny little tot hearts, and the things that make the news, and the things that take our innocence away. Moms and dads and parents and grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins and friends, we are not different; we want the same things; to protect our beloved babies and let them grow up to be free in a world that is more frightening than free. And sometimes it’s easier to be the big mama bear who chases off the hard stuff and the scary stuff and the bad days and the things that we can’t understand. And we don’t like to be afraid so we fight hard, ferociously hard, to keep the scary and the dark and unknown away. And the fear and the fighting is for our babies so it must be a good cause but fear and fighting kind of look like hate and hurtfulness and I really, truly think that there’s a better way to change the world.

And how do we navigate this life when the opportunity to share God’s love is directly at odds with the convictions we have of what is right and wrong? And what if we cannot find the balance between standing up for what is right and standing against what the Bible says is wrong and offering mercy and grace to the people who disagree? And what if fighting for the safety of our precious babies is in direct opposition to the moms and dads that are fighting for their own precious little babies? How do we win the war where all sides stand on moral ground and how we do we win a fight that shouldn’t have become one in the first place? And how do we know the truth when that Christian over there says truth is different than what I believe the truth really is? And how do we stand for Christ and stand for love and stand for hope and still sit down and listen to what’s happening on the other side?

Don’t step up, SuperChristian. Step back. Retreat. No, no, not from the hard stuff and not from the people we don’t understand and not from the half-truths and the broken and the pain and the wrong. Retreat to your knees and retreat to your closets and retreat to the place where you can run right to the waiting, loving, restful arms of Jesus. Because it is in quiet conversation that we learn God’s heart and we learn God’s voice and we learn God’s Word and we learn God’s ways and we learn what it really is that we are fighting for. And we want peace and we want freedom and we want safety for our little ones but what is that God wants for all of his children?

Retreat, SuperChristian. You don’t have to fight so hard against the world with words and weapons and wits. Our best defense, our smartest strategy, our toughest offense, our bravest moves are in the quietest moments of honest conversation between created and Creator. Surrender, Warrior Ones and Wise Ones and Weary Ones, Surrender, Cautious Ones and Confused Ones and Courageous Ones, surrender your passion, surrender your purpose, surrender your hopes, your dreams, your goals, and your moral ground, surrender your fight not to the other side, but to prayer.

http://www.peopleofwonder.com/prayer/1445/