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TRUST

JULY 6, 2021
TRUST
Sometimes I feel like I’m holding a little bird

Fragile yet certain.

Melding into my palm…delicate and restless.

Lucas is slowly sealing within himself the foundation of trust.

He allows me to stroke his satin skin and fine growing hair.

He slowly surrenders to slumber in my arms.

Head against my chest.

He is learning love.

Trust…once it permanently etches itself into his soul will allow him to learn to build

friendships and deeper relationships.

Yes, he will have to learn how to discern these relationships over his lifetime.

But for now, he simply receives the love of his family.

Sweet and indelible.

What a miracle to watch God’s plan in sweet slow-motion snippets of time.

GRANDMA LOVE

GRANDMA LOVE

August 2,2020

It goes beyond the love of the feel of his neck nestled against mine…or the look of his intense alert gaze at the trees and their sky…or his baby fragrance.

When I hold him, and gaze down at his slumber in my embrace, it’s like I’m holding the universe. Its infinite. Bottomless. No ending….no beginning. His presence in my arms reveals those who’s shoulders upon which he’ll eventually stand, and at the same time, the descendants who will stand upon his shoulders someday…long after I am gone.

Within my embrace lies both the sorrows and the glory of even my own life all wrapped up in one bundle.

The miracle of hope.

A GRANDMOTHER’S EYE VIEW

August 5,2021

He loves to look up at the sky and point to the birds. He’ll gaze upward looking for them and point when he sees them. I wonder what the birds see…or think…when they gaze below at a 14 month old little boy full of wonder.

What I see as I gaze down at him is simply blessing.

I get to spend 2 fun filled, laughter filled, exhausting filled and intense days per week with my grandson. I wanted this snapshot today from our dog walk excursion because I know that sometime soon (probably not so soon…but it will feel like soon) when he no longer needs his stroller.

So, I get to see his chubby little knees and blond head with his cowlick at the crown. He’s holding a flower because he ‘demands’ I pick ones now and then for him. He usually drops them somewhere along the way, but that doesn’t matter.

Lucas loves our dog walks. They’ve become part of our biweekly ritual. Children love ritual and routine…and he gets to see the world roll by with his grandma and 2 Scotties, Mackenzie and Angus.

For me, the photo provides an indelible memory of this sweet fleeting moments of his life. For him, my prayer is that love and security is etching it’s way deep into his soul. Over time, he most likely will not remember these morning strolls, but the love becomes sealed within his memory vault of images mixed with the hugs and unconditional acceptance that will define his character as he journeys on.

WE ARE BEING TESTED

September 26,2021

This I believe.

Our souls are being tested in a pivotal way at this time in history.

Humanity is sustained by relationships. Friendships. Familial ties, work associations and the friendships that result. There are the simple interactions at the bank or gas station. Its endless. This is the landscape where we practice and learn grace and mercy.

It is the substance within which love can manifest.

I know I’m not alone when I find myself judging and/ or silently critical of others. I am talking about the mask vs unmask or vx vs unvx conversations. While I won’t spell it out here…you know where I stand on these issues.

As I’ve said often enough: “I’d rather die on my feet than live on my knees”.

But with all that said, I am acutely aware that there is a war at play. In the theatre of this battle is the dark side’s intent to divide and thereby conquer.

Their goal?

To conquer the soul of not only America, but of all of humanity. Don’t doubt that. I’ll say it again…the goal of the dark side is to conquer the soul of all of humanity.

America stands in the crosshairs of this war. America will tip the balance. America’s destiny is to carry the banner of freedom and the glory of our one and only God.

Differing opinions and politics have always been a part of the landscape of our lives. Either we discuss these issues or not, depending on the strength of particular relationships or the mood of a particular gathering. But only occasionally would a personal relationship be thrown asunder by the diversity of thought or opinions.

Today however, it’s different. It is different because we are in a war (for real). Just because it’s not fought with guns and bombs being dropped from above…make no mistake…this is a war.

I believe that this is a final battle. Our freedom and liberty is the cost if we lose this war.

And, equally as important are the relationships we share with friends and family that are at risk of being collateral damage. It’s the love and connection and relative fluidity we used to share with others that is vulnerable now.

If life is a mighty river, then we existed together in that river. However, the times have drawn us to opposite sides of the river. We can still talk and interact, but our consciousness is aligned on one side or another. We can say that politics have done this. We can say that gender or race or religion has stationed us each on one side or another. The possibility of divisiveness is endless when the enemy is at play manipulating the landscape. Over the past couple of years, the river has become turbulent and now it rages. This has been the strategy of ‘the enemy’. The enemy has manipulated this landscape.

In the past we could cross over the river at will and return to our comfort zone at will…but not today. The enemy has seen to it that through its manipulation we risk too much to cross over. To carry the analogy further, the mist is salty and burns the eyes, the waves smack and sting and the turbulence promises to drown you in the drama and turmoil.

Make no mistake. This is by design. This is the intention of the enemy.

I’ll drive down a street and scoff at people wearing masks in their car, or outside on a sunny side of the street. I’ll cringe in anger at employees who demand I don a mask. My reactions to these annoyances are like a knee jerk reaction. A family member verbally assaults me for my decision about what to do with my own body and I might respond with anger (even silently to myself).

The river divides.

Energetically, dividing families and long-term friendships apart is what the enemy wants. When we settle into anger and judgement the enemy applauds. It empowers their mission.

Our anger is best served to be directed towards the real enemy who has manipulated all of humanity.

So, this is what I choose to practice daily now, and my hope is to inspire you to do the same. When a loved one makes me angry (metaphorically shouting from their side of the raging river), I choose to be angry at the enemy. When a stranger is foolish enough (in my opinion) to wear masks in the sunlight, I will choose mercy and patience over judgment and anger. And, I will choose to be angry at the ‘great manipulator’. And it is a practice…it is not mastered easily. And I am committed to mastering it.

Righteous anger is what we must arise to now. Righteous anger at the enemy whose evil intent is to divide us, is one of the calls to action. Righteous anger at the enemy who intends to fracture humanity’s potential to be in love. Practicing grace and in mercy in the service of the salvation of humanity is what we MUST choose now.

AN ANGEL MESSENGER (chapter 12)

SEPTEMBER 25,2021
 
EXCERPT FROM  HOLY LOVE: A MEMOIR OF SORROW TO GLORY
 

from an account of receiving a speeding ticket during my single parenting days)

….Then it happened. He did something that had never been done before. It was as if I was nudged into an altered state beyond my well-practiced ritual of receiving my speeding ticket so I could be on my way. He leaned over and peered into my car, making eye contact with me. I was stunned. My heart became my eyes for the first time in my life.

I know this sounds bizarre. However, all I can say is that our mere mortal minds cannot comprehend the idea of seeing with the heart. This is the only way I can describe the moment. I heard him with my heart as well.

His voice enveloped me: his gentle concern substantive and consuming. It was as if It wrapped itself around me in a down quilt. It had the depth of an ocean, yet the whisper of dawn. The sound of his voice caught me like a starving fish on a hook, except it was painless and felt like I was aching to be pulled into his net. He leaned over. I saw his face. He looked to be in his thirties, a handsome man. His face was exquisite as his eyes met mine.

That was the moment that my heart became my eyes. To say that he had blue eyes does not begin to do them justice. They drew me in so that nothing else existed at that moment but the shade of blue. His eyes were a shade of blue-green that I’d never seen before.

It was as if his eyes spoke at that moment, and my heart heard the words and my soul listened as he said, “Please, don’t speed. Somebody is going to get hurt”. That’s all he said, yet it was one of those God-stopping moment of my life.

IT’S A “HURTIN’ THING” Chapter 4

EXCERPT FROM MY UPCOMING BOOK: HOLY LOVE: A MEMOIR OF SORROW TO GLORY
 

Walking to Wiley’s market like two big girls, on those warm, sultry summer days holds a sacred place in my memory. I recall balmy walks with my sister in Indian summers as we crunched through the colorful leaves on our mission to the corner store. We’d make acorn rings and play hopscotch for hours. The smells of fallen leaves on the sidewalk in autumn are savory imprints in my mind.

These memories belong to Lee as well. She was as present at the rising sun.

Lee’s imprint in my memory is indelible. My father had hired her to work two to three days a week. It could have been every day early on—I don’t recall exactly. I do recall that she was always home in the family room ironing with the television on when I’d return home from school. While I could never predict if my mother would be home when I returned, I always knew that I’d find Lee there.

She was my rock to stand on in the days of my youth.

BORN INTO DECEIT (Chapter 2)

 
 
Excerpt from my upcoming book: Holy Love: A Memoir of Sorrow to Glory.
 
 
 

Jesus’ love for us is like a hot ember planted within our hearts at conception. I tucked mine away for “safekeeping” for most of my life. Looking back, I wonder if my gnawing discontent was due to a yearning for something I couldn’t have.

Was it that innocent, childlike joy, and sweet contentment that is the seed of love for a family, or was it actually the love of Jesus that I tucked away and longed for?

Maybe God designed children’s innocence for the purpose of knowing Him in all His purity and holiness. His touch on our souls and inside His Holy DNA are the secrets to an eternal craving.

It’s a yearning that only He can satisfy.

MIRACLE AT MONTEBELLO (Chapter 8)

Excerpt from–Holy Love: A Memoir of Sorrow to Glory

(Account of an incident that occured over 30 years ago during my nursing career)

 

I entered the room and sat in a chair about ten feet from her. I didn’t even tell her I was there. She appeared to be asleep, if not unconscious. I only wanted to finish my work and intended to stay briefly. She was to be discharged the next morning, and I wanted to leave the guilt behind and let her be, so that when I returned on Monday, she’d be gone and I could pretend she never happened.

God had other plans.

As I sat there, I began to feel the weight of my own body. I attributed it at first to my second-trimester pregnancy and the fatigue of a long week. I’m not sure how much time had gone by, possibly fifteen minutes, when the hospital clergyman and his assistant walked in to do rounds. He nodded at me and walked over to the sleeping woman and prayed over her. I don’t recall the prayer, but it was a prayer that sounded familiar to me. He left with another nod to me, and there I sat. I felt increasingly restless to leave the room but became acutely aware of feeling a weight upon my shoulders, as if I were being held down. I literally felt unable to lift myself off the chair.

Time ticked by. It felt as if an hour passed, when suddenly out of the silence, the patient spoke. Without turning her head in my direction and with her eyes still closed she said, “Jill, I can’t go home tomorrow. I’m too sick.”

I didn’t think she was even aware that I was in the room! To say I was shocked is an understatement. I jumped out of my chair and ran over to her bedside and hugged her, promising her I’d take care of it. I was euphoric as I literally ran down the hall to the doctor’s office. I told him he had to cancel the discharge order because she requested to stay. My euphoria was on her behalf, but even more powerful was the experience of being involved in God’s work. I was not yet a believer. I considered myself to be spiritual, but I had no personal relationship or intimacy with God. He had used me nevertheless, and I knew it!

When I returned on Monday, she was gone. She had died that weekend in her clean hospital bed, with peace and with dignity. I’d often wonder if the vigil I had felt required to perform that Friday afternoon had actually provided the space for her to reconcile her life to God, and allow herself to die.

It was one of many miracles to come.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

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BORN INTO DECEIT (Chapter 2)

EXCERPT FROM HOLY LOVE: A MEMOIR OF SORROW TO GLORY.
 

I remember gazing up at the television tower with its skinny antennae. I can recall the experience of one of those steel arms reaching down for me as I sat at the bedroom window. In my memory, the WBAL tower bent down, the arm of one prong reaching all the way to my window. I climbed out my window and held on as the single prong carried me back up to the top of the tower.

This was all in the imagination of a five-year-old little girl, but what I recall most poignantly is the overwhelming, tender love I felt surrounding me.

As long as we lived on Dupont Avenue in Baltimore City, the WBAL tower was a source of comfort. It was always watching over me. At night, the lights would blink, comforting me. During the day, my occasional reverie on my sister’s bed by the window would quicken my heart.

The love I felt from the tower was so reassuring and comforting, and while it wasn’t a secret, I never told a soul. This was the magical thinking of a little girl who hides the butterfly wing she found into the corner of her dresser drawer for safekeeping.

It took another fifty years for me to realize that was my first awareness of my Savior’s courtship of me. He was wooing me, calling to me; and He was prodding me to gaze up to Him. Gaze up toward Him I did.

HE WILL FIND YOU

Poetry excerpt from Holy Love: A Memoir of Sorrow to Glory
 
 

He will come near to you if you open your heart.

He will wrap himself around you if you seek Him.

He will light your way if you look for Him.

He will hear you if you ask for Him.

If you knock, He will answer.

Because it is a relationship He craves, He will wait for you to come to Him.

Hidden deep within the choosing impulse lies a fertile seed of redemption and glory.

That is why He planted a will within our souls.

So we would ultimately choose to dwell with Him, in His kingdom