Liz's Front Porch

Traffic and God's Arms

This morning I struggled with prayer lists grown too long, miscellaneous daily stuff entangled among drought and winds, and ugly, stinging words—both given and received. Heading out for appointments, I stopped long enough to cry out to God, “How do I know? How can I be sure? My walk is confusing. Where do I turn, what do I do?”

Neither thunder nor lightening answered so I dried my tears and scurried out to tie up the loose ends of yet another hectic day.

Later, I tapped the steering wheel impatiently as I waited for an interminable red light to give me permission to drive forward. Trapped in my immovable vehicle, I watched two men walking down major thoroughfare in front of me. They moved properly against traffic oblivious to dust coating their white walking shorts.

The sighted man walked next to the curb, his right arm bent so that the other could hold on. The blind man walked in step beside his companion but next to the outside and dangerous lane where trucks, cars, and motorcycles zipped, rushed, and sped by.

I felt God whisper, “Watch and learn.”

The two men walked heel-toe-heel-toe oblivious to tires spewing rocks, dirt, and debris across the hot pavement, trucks turning left, mini-vans gunning engines and roaring around slower, sedate Towncars.

Sharply sucking in my breath, I watched. The blind man moved his white-tipped stick back and forth as he walked—heel-toe-heel-toe. The other man was taller and looked around, pulled his arm closer—heel-toe-heel-toe—checking, pulling in, looking, listening, moving, letting out—heel-toe-heel-toe.

My light changed to green. Oblivious to God’s Hand moving among us, cars in front of me moved ahead, turned left, braked, turned right, slowed, and accelerated while voices from my radio sang…….

         

        

           What have I to dread, what have I to fear,
         Leaning on the everlasting arms?
         I have blessed peace with my Lord so near,

         Leaning on the everlasting arms.

 The eternal God is your refuge,
      and his everlasting arms are under you.
   He drives out the enemy before you;
      he cries out, ‘Destroy them!’

Deuteronomy 33:27 (New Living Translation)

Please, sweet friends, lean on the Lord Jesus Christ. Walking through Lent--and life--is treacherous.

  Love and blessings,

      Liz

 

Thorns over Royalty

 

Today is Sunday. But, the boys who do chores I can no longer manage without help, came over anyway. As a gift. To hang the barbed wire crown on our cross and drape it with purple. On a resurrection day. Tomorrow I’ll ponder, more deeply, God’s amazing love.

And I’ll pray for each of you and the young men who assist old ladies.

Blessings on this Holy Day.

             Liz

Just Old Junky Wood

           The cross is up at the fence down by our road.

           Our cross is not a pretty one. In fact, it is ugly and made from a beat-up and weather damaged telephone pole. The cross arm is old junk lumber our friend had laying around his barn. The concrete it stands in is new, but is covered up in the plain, old, dirty dirt we walk on every day.

           For years, Dear Heart and I talked about having a cross made. Recently, we said it out loud to a friend and Ron said, “Hey! I can do that!” And he did. Just like we asked. He made it out of old, junky, scarred, wood.

 

Our nephew and his son came up to help set the cross in place. Turned into a family thing and I bonded with our great-great niece, six-month old Laurelei Elizabeth. How many blessings can a family have in a day?

           The  pole is about fifteen inches around, some twelve feet tall, and the cross arm is about seven feet. The solar flood light to shine on it at night is on order. This Saturday, the teenage guys who helped us at Christmas will help us drape the cross with a purple cloth.

           On Good Friday, our cross will wear a black covering.

          

           But oh my goodness wait until Easter morning!

           Later, we’ll plant a LOT of brilliant (need I say “blood”?) red petunias  circling the base to bloom all summer.

           Neighbors who daily drive our road have already said things like, “Seeing the cross by the side of the road sent peace through my soul.” And, “How awesome to be reminded—as I rush back and forth with my hectic life—that Jesus is STILL in charge of our world.” One e-mail read simply, “I love it.”

           It seems we often forget to let ourselves remember that the King actually died for us. On an ugly, cruel cross.

           Our cross is as it is supposed to be: rugged. It stands quietly at our fence reminding me—even on the bad days—of His unbelievable and amazing love.

           I wish there was a cross on every hill around our town.

The Cross is erected on our hill.....

 

Winter Quiet

It seems to me that Lent is a time to stop, think, re-think, ponder, be still, consider. I’ve done a lot of those things this year.

Lent begins in the dead of winter and this year I felt unusually needy.

Weeks on end of being soul-weary dry. Empty.

So I sit quietly at the Master’s feet.

Truth be told, I expected a unique revelation at the most.

A loving whisper at the least.

Nothing.

Just silence. All around me. No thunder. No lightening. No doors slam.

Not even a tree falls in the forest.

I continue sitting. I ask for nothing. He does not reply.

I go back. Again. And again.

Cold silence.

I go back. Again.

One day, I know that I know that He sits beside me.

The quietness begins to wrap around me like a warm blanket.

I ponder His sweet, amazing love and my on-going human frailty.

His love is greater than my frailty.

Now I can breathe.

Dearest Love,

  Liz

The Faithful

Even though I have not posted in a long while, I often come in to rest by the fireplace and am comforted to see that some of you faithfully check in now and then.

Thank you! It's been a difficult winter and while taking the trash out one windy day, my words got away from me and blew all over the yard. I've found some of them, but mostly my words lay in a messy heap around my desk. I am trying to worship---not just to get my words back, but for ointment to my soul.

Mostly, I've wandered away by myself, to a deserted place, and have rested awhile. Thank you, Rebecca, for reminding me about Mark 6:31.

I'll see all of you on the porch soon. Tomorrow is the first day of spring. Can The Resurrection be far behind?

Love and blessings,

         Liz