Unveiled Graces

This morning, my dog Rusty and I went  for a walk around our neighborhood.  He loves these small adventures away from the backyard.  As we walked our loop, I inhaled the newness of spring and was reminded of how blessed I truly am.  I gloried in watching my pup point at the nearby squirrels.  I thanked my Creator for the changing of the seasons.  I allowed my spirit to simply be in the moment.  I realized afterwards how I do not often make a practice of being still in the sense of allowing my soul to rest and take in what God has for me.  I approach Scripture as I do a workout at a gym.  I think to myself that it is time to dig in and get after it.  I do not approach it as a stroll with my dog, taking my time and allowing it to speak to my soul.  However, both are important.  Physically, gyms allow you to build up and gain strength.  Yet, strolls allow you to relieve stress and relax.  Perhaps there is a spiritual ...

Right now, my feelings are raw.  As I type, my husband sits with our Labrador, Sophie, as she takes her last breath of life.  I have always held the perspective that a dog is a pet and not a person mentality.  Yet, today, Sophie feels like family. It is hard to say goodbye.  Ultimately, God did not design us for goodbyes.  At Creation, there was no goodbye.  However, sin introduced the first goodbye (that is for a later post).  Since that time, creation has groaned at each thought of goodbye. Everyone responds in his or her own way.  We shed tears, gather with friends, cry out to God, reach for a bottle, or take to bed.  Some ideas of grief are healthier than others.  Yet, the healthier choices do not make them any easier.  In complete transparency, my go to in grief is cleaning.  For those who know me, this might be surprising.  However, I feel that I have some sense of control over what I clean.  All th...

I will admit it.  I am obsessed with the latest podcast trend, "Missing Richard Simmons."  How could I not be?  I spent many hours rocking out to  Sweatin' To The Oldies Part 2 when I was sixteen.  Here is what I find fascinating about the podcast though.  Simmons has not been seen in public since February 2014.  Yet, this is suddenly a major news story three years later???  I find the fact that society can all of a sudden become obsessed with someone who has been missing for three entire years more fascinating than the actual search for the individual. This podcast made me think of people who I had allowed to slip away into the abyss of nonchalance in my own life.  People for whom I cared, but because of busyness or circumstances, they simply faded from my life.  As I began to catalogue these friends, I not only felt a feeling of loss, but also a sense of responsibility to culti...

Scrubbing toilets is an act of worship for me.  Perhaps I should explain.  When I was a senior in college, I sought God's wisdom for His direction for my life.  Since I was a child, I felt called into Christian service.  With graduation looming, I spent an evening praying in the College Chapel.  My divine revelation was not quite what I expected. As I prayed and reflected on Scripture, Matthew 5 pervaded my thoughts.  I committed to the Father that if He called me to scrub toilets for Him, my prayer was to scrub them joyfully, out of gratitude for all He had done for me.  Not long after my experience in my collegiate chapel, I was blessed with a job at a church.  Since that time, I have served in several "ministerial" capacities.  But, God has also had other plans for my life as well.  Currently, I am not on staff at a church.  Yet, this morning, as I scrubbed my toilets, I rejoiced as I do most "toilet days"....

"Playing the violin makes me want to die!" These are words no music instructor wants to hear her student cry out in the middle of a lesson.  I calmly list all the great qualities of the treble instrument.  Within the thirty minute meltdown, the student dropped the violin, almost poked me in the eye with a bow, and threw a massive tantrum.  By the end of the lesson, when she declared she wanted to quit, I almost gave her a high-five.  With the last amount of patience I had in me, I told her to go home and think about her decision and about how much she desired to play the violin when she started.  I encouraged her that as she continued to practice, the violin would not seem so difficult. Later that evening, as I vented to my husband, God convicted me of my words of judgment.  I only knew of her performance during the thirty minutes a week she was in studio.  I didn't know her story, but I knew she had needs.  She needed ...