Seasons

Two nights ago my daughter Ally and I were driving home from an Astros game when we discovered we were both scheduled to see the gynecologist/obgyn at the same time the following day. She was scheduled for a check-up as she approached her 5 month mark in pregnancy, and I was struggling with the joy of not sleeping, feeling crampy, and swinging in and out of heat stroke.  Being new to Texas, we both began seeing the same doctor when we moved here, but we never thought we'd be strapped into stir-ups at the same time!

We planned to meet at the office so I could watch her 2 year old Reese while she saw Dr. Pierce, then I'd have my turn seeing the doctor.  As it turned out, I got called into a patient room shortly after Ally did, so stroller in tow, I climbed up onto the table and waited.  I could hear my new grand baby's heartbeat through the wall, loud and strong, as if singing within my daughter's womb.  Listening to that rhythm took me back to the years I laid on this same kind of table in a different season of life; a season that anticipated heartbeats rather than hot flashes! I smiled as I remembered a wise scripture that reminds us:
         "There is an appointed time for everything.  And there is a time for every season under heaven."     (Ecclesiastes 3: 1)

The funny thing about seasons is whenever I'm in the middle of one, it seems I'm anxious to get to the next one.  I remember being eleven years old, dreaming about being thirteen.  When I was thirteen I couldn't wait to be sixteen.  At sixteen I could barely hold myself together until eighteen.

This pattern has continued as a woman.  I couldn't wait to leave my single life to be married.  Soon after getting married I couldn't wait to be pregnant; and after being pregnant for a short while I couldn't wait to get that over with and give birth.  Each stage of child rearing held the reward of getting to the next season: past sleepless nights with a new born, potty training a two year old, elementary school homework and busy schedules, high school drama, college entry exams... new seasons led to the anticipation of the next season, sure to be full of hope and promise. 

I remember a young mom asking me once "What's been the best season of your life?"  I could tell she really wanted some wisdom on this one.  The hope to blaze through one season to get to the season that flashed with glory and fanfare.  I simply said to her "Each season has been the best season."  She looked at me with disbelief as it obviously wasn't the answer she wanted.  She was a new mom with a colicky baby who demanded she walk the floors well into the night, rocking that little body until it calmed into a quiet hush.  I assured her that even this colicky season has its reward, as her baby was getting more prayer from her during these sleepless nights than it might get the rest of its life!  The truth is, when we rush through seasons anxiously anticipating what's coming next, we miss the treasures embedded in what's happening now. 

Solomon had it right when he said there's a time for every season under heaven.  We laugh, cry, hope, disappoint, yell, whisper, kiss, hold, and let go.  It's the way God created life, and the way we're meant to live it. 

Still on the table in the doctor's office, I was shocked when the doctor came in and informed me that my ovaries are still in great shape.  I wish she had been talking about my thighs, because there was a part of me that wanted to hear I was in full blown menopause and she could give me something to help!  But I tell you what I decided to do instead, I thanked God for my shapely ovaries, and the exact season I'm living in now.

 Even if I break out in a hot flash giving thanks, the season I'm living in now is the right season for me.

Blessings!
Gari

Heart Readers

Written by: Jessica Russo

Co-blogger for Truly Fed Ministries
 

A few weeks ago I attended a fabulous wedding in New Orleans. Lively music, fantastic food, and family were all in one place for this exciting event. There were two little girls there, one a 9 year old cousin of mine, and the other a 7 year old from Norway. The little 7 year old did not speak any English. Together the two girls played games, built jump ropes out of strands of beads, and played tricks on other wedding guests. For several hours they played, laughed, and communicated without speaking.

Watching these children made me think back to Genesis 11 when God separated language. It is written that he separated language in order to place necessary limitations on the people after seeing the enormous tower they were building up to the heavens (Tower of Babel).

Although the separation of language did in fact place limitations on the spoken communication; I wonder if God was also encouraging a deeper communication that surpasses words. Perhaps a communication similar to that which we have with him. When praying I often just sit in silence and go through so many thoughts in my head, communicating my heart without speaking.

Psalm 139:4
Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O LORD.

Wouldn’t it be so much easier if people spoke less with words and more with their actions and their hearts?

All too often I confuse my words and they don’t always accurately reflect what my heart is trying to communicate. Have you ever said something to a friend and they just sit quietly and stare at you, so you follow up with: “Well you know what I mean.” The people in my life that know what I mean even when I speak it wrong I call my “heart readers.”

After studying the communication between the little girls and pondering it for a while, I have challenged myself with three things:

1. Surround myself with my heart readers
2. Take responsibility in showing others my heart so they too can look beyond the words and see my truth.
3. Not to hold others accountable to just the words they speak but to look deeper. I too must become a heart reader.

We can look beyond what our mother, father, children, sibling, spouse, and friends say to us (even when it’s difficult) to find the underlying message, feeling, or issue the words derived from. God separated language because, quite frankly, words get us into trouble but always know the heart never lies. If you are walking with the Lord your heart will never steer you wrong because he is at the wheel.

My prayer for myself and all of you this week is that we communicate our inner truths with open hearts in all we say and do.

Blessings,
Jessica

Squeezing Grapes

I love this picture taken the night before Easter. First of all, I'm sure you can see my granddaughter Reese somehow figured out how to wink for the camera. Pretty amazing for a 2 year old! The second thing I love about this photo is it includes Brooke's boyfriend Mitch, who we got to meet for the first time over the weekend.
He's a casual mix of funny,caring and personable; a perfect blend of attributes to add to this wildly wired family of ours.
Arriving home from the airport he reached into his bag and handed Bobby and I a gift. It was a beautiful book of photographs taken from the vineyards of Sonoma where he lives and works. Picturesque hilltops and valleys draped with acres of vines bursting forth color; drenched in the beauty of luscious grapes. He is a winemaker--schooled in the art of turning fruit into liquid. I quickly became enthralled considering Jesus happened to be a fabulous winemaker Himself.

The day Mitch left I poured over the pages of this book, photo by photo, as I studied the process of grapes becoming wine. The first photos capture the image of barren wooden sticks. Entangled and interwoven, these sticks are the vines that will one day house blossoms of fruit, but truthfully, they look like dead wood for a fire. Lifeless and empty, tangled on the poles meant to help them grow straight.

The next pictures show the beginning of buds. Months of harsh weather, and careful wrapping by the vine keepers have brought about a tiny bud that can hardly be seen with the eye. The buds don't look anything like grapes. As a matter of fact, they look like tiny beads of sweat on the unshaven face of a man. So fragile, that with the wipe of a tissue they might fall off the branch and dissolve in mid-air.

Now comes the sun, shining through the camera lens as though a new carpet of life has been laid over the barren rug of sticks and buds. Tiny balls of green and purple hang off the branches like toy prizes in a gumball machine. Round and plump, the acres of land host rows of purple mixed with the rich hue of green; leaves that nestle the grapes like a mama nestles her child.

The final pictures show the calloused hands of the vine dresser carrying the grapes to their final stage before fulfilling their ultimate purpose. The vine dresser places the grapes in a machine that squeezes them until they can't be recognized as grapes any longer. If grapes could cry, their tears would splash all over the drone of this machine as it takes them from their branches, and pushes them to be something far different than what they started as.

As I looked with awe at the stunning process of wine making, I was reminded that this is exactly what God does in our lives. From tangled branches that look like dead wood, to the tiny buds of new life--we begin to develop and grow. Just when we feel pretty good, and seem to look good too--it's time for the vine dresser to squeeze us so we become even more useful.

The great writer and teacher Oswald Chamber says "If we believe in Jesus, it is not what we gain, but what He pours through us that counts. It is not that God makes us beautifully rounded grapes, but that He squeezes the sweetness out of us. Spiritually, we cannot measure our lives by success, but only by what God pours through us, and we cannot measure that at all."


I don't think it's any accident that the first miracle of Jesus was to take shapeless, tasteless water--and make it valuable wine. Our lives are like that wine...to be enjoyed by many and celebrated by all. Wine squeezed and cared for by the vine dresser Himself.

Blessings!

Gari

Pick up that cast and walk

Written by: Jessica Russo

Co-blogger for Truly Fed Ministries
 
After my rambunctious red-headed three year old leaped off the top of the play equipment at the park (on Leap Day nonetheless), we were off to the ER with a broken leg. A tiny camouflaged cast was placed on his leg and we were given a little boot for him to use to walk. Although I felt sad for my little maverick I couldn’t help but notice how incredibly cute the cast was.

Once we returned home he adapted quickly to life on his stomach. He crawled like a crab for a solid week. The thing that intrigued me most was the fact that he never complained or asked if he would walk again. He seemed perfectly happy with this new way of life. My thought was to attach a Swiffer to his shirt and let him clean some floors with all that scooting around on his belly but my husband had had enough of it. In a gentle but stern voice (that voice that fathers are so good at but mothers never quite master) he said, “Get up and walk.” Fear struck my son’s eyes and I realized it wasn’t that he was perfectly happy to crab-crawl for the rest of his life; it was that he was content to remain down because he was too fearful of the pain of getting back up.

Again in the daddy voice he said, “Your leg is fine son. Get up and walk.” Without question, and through his fear, he got up and walked. His little blue eyes were dancing with excitement as he ran over and thanked his father.

In John 5 Jesus sees a Man at the Pool of Bethesda that lay on a mat sick for 38 years:
8 Jesus said to him, “Rise, take up your bed and walk.” 9 And immediately the man was made well, took up his bed, and walked.

What strikes me about this is the fact that Jesus told the man to pick up his bed and carry it with him. Almost as if he was saying: Get up, take charge of that which has held you down, and move on!

This week I leave you with this to fill in as you choose for your own life:

Rise, take up your ______________, and walk

There are countless things that once were issues or ailments but now are just fears in my life. I could fill this blank with such things as:
-Insecurity
-Sadness of a lost loved one
-Issues with food
-Shame

I could go on and on as I’m sure we all could.

Well needless to say God has healed my little fingerprint and he is back to his mischievous and reckless ways.

God heals and we rise, pick up that cast, and walk……..
Blessings,
Jessica