Joy in the Journey

It has been a stretch of time since I have contributed to this blog. My life has changed; people have both faded and returned from the landscape of my days. Our choices and natural progressions drew us to different places. It is a pull towards nostalgia; and one that I treasure with ambivalence. Life changes. Color me blue with the bursting shades of yellow and purple in the face of all of that. There is still joy in the journey.

I write as a natural outgrowth of who I am at my core. I was born for this. I think in terms of a cheap spiral notebook and the Dixon Ticonderoga pencils of my youth. There is not need to speak of the exact day I officially left my youth; I am still trying to get all of my components to make more of an effort to grow up. That will take an outside source to arrive at a place of sound judgement. I live, and move, and have my being in terms of an ocean of grace extended to me. Reason cannot take me to where I want to go; and therefore I still stand at the foot of the cross and raise my hands in awe.

I am at play. My raison d'etre is simultaneously carved out of words and mental circuitry dancing on the page and screen. Both endeavors are needed. The feel of the paper and pencil falling under my control is a part of the experience of writing. The keyboard is yet another. Both are driven by what seems as inevitable. More joy. Plenty of journey lies ahead in forms I still reach to see.

The days will enfold in terms of yearnings and events; woven together to stride towards the coming days, weeks, and years. Time will show how the joy I know in the pursuit of the written expression will present itself. In the meantime, I invite you to celebrate the joy in your own journey as your days lead you onward.



Cup o'joy
and a fresh taste of the bread of heaven to you...

Lynne

Looking Up

I'm standing here, Lord;
knowing past reason that You are near.
Looking up towards the heavens
and all that You have made;
the music of heaven wells up
from the depths of my soul
to loosen the toughened roots of bitterness.
Looking up brings me down to level
needed to lay my sacrifice at the altar.
I'm standing here, Lord;
knowing past reason that You are near
as I seek Your heart.

Mental Deposits

The weather is turning warmer and I can feel the seratonin levels in my brain rising with each passing day. That is a wonderful thing. I haven't posted much these days; on account of finding work. Yes, I am working full-time right now and spend my days depositing my energy into the tasks set before me there. In honor of the impending season of SPRING, I am going to celebrate in the face of working so much. In short, I choose joy.

My mental deposits for the moment are a whirl of meandering sentences and phrases sitting in a holding cell. SPRING has snuck out of the enclosed area and burst forth in my consciousness with a renewed spunk. Snow is going to have to wait until a colder month to come back for a visit.

What are your mental deposits for the day? Mine were a tad quirky today(so feel free to be silly if you are so moved).


Cup o' joy
and a fresh taste of the bread of heaven....

Lynne

IT'S MY 1ST BIRTHDAY !!!!!

Ponderings...

I have been reading a book entitled, "In God's Underground" by Revrend Richard Wurmbrand. There is a passage that I especially want to share with you at this time of the year. The Christmas season is often a difficult time for many people; pulling their thoughts(hopefully)towards heaven. I pray that this passage propels you to think about our reason for celebrating this season all the more as the day approaches; and as the new year progresses.

Wumbrand: "But it's the crimes and errors of the Church which give us so much more to admire in it"

Patrascanu: " What do you mean?"

Wumbrand: "A hospital may stink of pus and blood; in that lies its beauty, for it receives the sick with their disgusting sores and horrible diseases. The church is Christ's own hospital. Millions of patients are treated in it, with love. The church accepts sinners-they continue to sin, and for their transgressions the Church is blamed. To me, on the other hand, the Church is like a mother who stands by her children even when they commit crimes. The politics and prejudices of its' servants are distortions of what comes from God-that is, the Bible and its' teachings, worship and the sacraments. Whatever its'faults, the church has much that is sublime in it. The sea drowns thousands of people every year, but no one contests its' beauty."

This is only a brief snapshot of the jailhouse conversation between these two men. The rest of the book is worth a read to see how persecution and struggle is like manure to a rosebush. Yes, that is a graphic image; but metaphorically accurate in my estimation. He is worthy of our praise in season and out of season.


Let's celebrate at the power inherent in the message of Christmas. He came, He died, and He rose up to complete the most lavish gift of all: Salvation. He is worthy.

Praises and much joy,

Lynne

Rising Up

Rising up;
ready to put on the garment of praise...
fiesty, I am;
gearing up to do battle; preparing to fight off
person, place, or memory....
Rising up;
assured of His willingness to rescue my cause
for the sake of His glory;
Rising up;
knowing past reason that His paths
are laced with that bittersweet balm
flowing down from the mercy seat.
Rising up;
raising my hands in defiant praise
as I strain to ignore emotion's pull.
Rising up;
determined to trust in my Lord as our hands meet once more on the journey.

Fire and Water...

But now, O Jacob, listen to the Lord who created you.

O Israel, the one who formed you says,

“Do not be afraid, for I have ransomed you.

I have called you by name; you are mine.

When you go through deep waters,

I will be with you.

When you go through rivers of difficulty,

you will not drown.

When you walk through the fire of oppression,

you will not be burned up;

the flames will not consume you.

For I am the Lord, your God,

the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.

Others were given in exchange for you.

I traded their lives for yours

because you are precious to me.

You are honored, and I love you.
~Taken from Isaiah 43:1-4(NLT)