Discovering Life

I'm happy.

I want to swim in a puddle, cuz it's impossible.
I want go on a hot walk.
That's when I walk on hot sand and burn my feet a little.
I want to sing while I am whistling.
Because somebody has to be first.
I want to spend more money on Time.
I want to go behind the scenes and bring my spirinoculars.
(That's a combination of seeing in the spirit and seeing with binoculars.)
I want to squirt you with my kids' water gun.
And run.
I want to play dress up with Perspective.
And design my own costume.
I want to scribble.
I want to push the rules a bit.
Nudge.
Bump.
See if it's a real rule.
See if it's God's rule.
Or man's rule.
Perhaps that's why my kids do it too.)

don't cry over spilled milk tomorrow

So there it sits in front of me. The "new post." It's sitting here blank except for this first sentence. Just staring at me. What do I need to say?

I read this morning something that said, "business death or life." I know it doesn't make sense. But it pulls two subjects together. Business. And death or life.

It made me think about my life's "business" or purpose. I wondered if life is coming out of it or death? Well, I certainly hope the answer is life! But there are certainly areas that need to break off of me and die. They are bearing no fruit.

Or milk.

Or maybe too much milk.

Let me explain. I am always thankful for opportunities to practise the fruit of the Spirit. (You know...love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self control.) After all, without practise, how can it grow?

Yesterday morning Eden spilled her milk. No, it wasn't just a spill, it was a side-swiped, splatter, swish, slam, spill-dunk. The pause and silence that followed is comical to me now as I think about it because years ago she would always cry after spilling her milk. Now, appearently, we just look at it on the floor.

Anyway, I was hungry, so I finished eating my breakfast before saying anything. Then I got her a rag to clean it up herself. I knew what a terrific job she'd do cleaning it up herself (yes, I'm being sarcastic), but it was important to me that she knew that spills are work (or should I say "business"?), and this particular morning, I was okay with her doing the work. (Normally my sticky-control-freak jumps up before it can even say "spilled milk" and it's cleaned. I always promise myself that I'll get her to do it next time).

I can't remember why I left the room, but for some reason, when I returned, my son was standing in the middle of the not-very-well-cleaned-up spilled milk puddle with his socks. And I lost it.

Now, it's true to say that I "normally" don't lose it. And when I'm about to lose it, I usually get a sense that it's coming, so there's a bit of a ramp. I don't usually just jump off the top like that. But he had to know he was standing in a puddle of milk, didn't he? He's five. Come on.

So I yelled.

And he cried.

And then the pride in the "we-don't-cry-over-spilled-milk" slogan we were beginning to perfect was once again lost in translation.

So what happened?

I think my business was failing. My focus was on the cumulation of sticky. I was learning to be okay with only one sticky, but two stickies back-to-back I was simply unprepared for. I suppose I should rejoice that the fruit of patience had the opportunity to grow. I had graduated to a new level of patience. Yay me.

So I ask myself, Is my business creating life or death? My business is with my family. Let me do a check on them...are they exuding life or death? I'm not saying I'm responsible for their emotional state. I'm saying I'm responsible for mine. I need to breathe life into them no matter what their current state is, sticky or not. Rational or not. Needy or needless. Life.

Today I choose life. Yeah, so a little death fell off of me. Good riddence. I'm not waiting until tomorrow to start over, even though one of my favorite sayings is "God's mercies are new every morning." I'm not waiting until the morning today. I'm going to breathe in His grace. Rest in it. I'm going to cry and let it out. Let that chunk fall right off. Then start over again with New business that's on the agenda for today.

My business will be life. I'm choosing it.

How one historic night changes everything

Jesus didn't die
just so we could be saved.

Didn't die so we could for once
be well-behaved.
Not because He caved.
Or waived.
Or was enslaved.

He came for life, not just eternal.
To change our inside, not just external.

The veil was torn, ripped right in two
And what was behind that veil came through.

No longer are we compliant, cold and separate
But the very presence of God became closely knit.

Inside, alongside, beside...Bride
Our desires now with His collide.

Concerning, yearning, our hearts burning
The tables of strength are finally turning

Surrender, we long for His glorious splendor
Yet fully in Him, our hearts we render

Perspective fleeting
Clarity daunting
I cling
I sing
Refusing the taunting
I know
I glow
His Spirit in me
To move
As He moves
I now have the key

The very presence of God that was separated from us as symbolized by the veil in the temple is no longer hidden. Therefore, what began with salvation must not end there. If Christ is in us, the Hope of Glory...then I must live to
tell the story.

"For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. "
(1 Cor 1:18)