The Journey « octolilly [through the years]

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amazing.

Sunday, November 28th, 2004

I whispered a goodbye last night. And as I slipped through the glass doors at GSP, I felt the drops begin to hit my face. Those passing by couldn’t see the tears through the rain.

Although saying goodbye was exceedingly hard, my tears weren’t of loneliness. As I sidestepped the large puddles, I was overwhelmed at the realization of where I’ve been and where I am now. What the past year has held, and the grace and mercy I’ve been given.

My mom said it best the other night. “When you place God in the middle, He can make it amazing.” I think that’s where I find myself tonight. Amazed.

And as God so often does, He threw another whirlwind into my life today. Something unexpected. And all I can do is offer it back to Him and watch Him work.

Posted in The Everyday, The Journey | Comments Closed

happy thanksgiving.

Thursday, November 25th, 2004

In the season of our plenty,
In the season of our need;
We will find His grace sufficient,
We will find His love complete.

Safe within His hand that guides us,
Hidden in His healing wings;
Day by day His love provides us
Every good and perfect thing.

– Claire Cloninger

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thirsty heart.

Sunday, November 21st, 2004

In between slicing bananas (to eat with peanut butter), and listening to my dad shoot a large possum on my deck, I talked with an old friend tonight. Well, talked a bit. But I mostly listened.

This person has seen a side of Christianity that would make your skin crawl. He’s been down roads that would make you blush. Been hurt in such a way that the “family of God” has become a laughing matter to him instead of a comfort. Perhaps some of you would be too uncomfortable to hear his rants. To listen to his stories.

But there is something wild and gravely familiar in his voice. Our stories are unbelievably close. We compare notes and I groan at the realization that someone else will be facing the Reaping Days. And tonight, he seemed restless. Moved. Hungry. Aching for the God he knows is real. And yet frustrated with so much.

I wish with all of my heart that I could tell him to fling everything away and that if he throws himself upon the Arms that all of his pains, fears, and troubles will disappear. But he knows better. And so do I. All I know to do is to whisper that God is real. That God is Love. The real kind. Unlike the type that promises a Great Night and Glory Upon Glory. That finding rest will require dying to self. That it all takes time.

A. W. Tozer once said, “Thirsty hearts are those whose longings have been wakened by the touch of God within them.”

Sometimes finding yourself with a thirsty heart is the best place to be.

Posted in The Everyday, The Friends, The Journey | Comments Closed

simply begun.

Monday, November 15th, 2004

It began rather simply.

He called and asked if he could play for me tonight. The time slipped by quickly, and the tears poured as I listened to songs that held truths so dear.

And when the time had ended, I knew I couldn’t sleep without finding myself at the piano as well. So I slipped through the grass and found myself at my parent’s house. They were crawling into bed, but eager to hear music as they fell asleep.

Playing the old hymns brought tears. Brought memories. Late nights on the deck, singing in the dark. Evenings spent at the church, gathered around the piano. Strumming the guitar around the Christmas tree. Playing the flute while in the large swing, not caring that everyone in the Valley could hear. I shared those moments with friends who dared to allow music to become more than entertainment.

Of course, most people will say that they love music. But there is a real difference between slapping your hand on the steering wheel in time to the latest Top 40, and finding yourself so moved by a score that it’s all you can do to hold yourself together. Moved because you suddenly are beyond yourself, and how it sounds, and what those around think, and all you hunger for is that soft, immeasurable moment in which you feel the presence of the Lord.

So, something simply begun has brought me into a quiet moment tonight, full of remembrance. And I’ve found myself whispering once more for a new beginning to be unveiled, and for a restoration of the wasted years.

Posted in Daniel, The Everyday, The Journey | Comments Closed

in the storms.

Sunday, October 24th, 2004

While teaching Sunday School this morning, I had one of those “I’m teaching to myself” moments.

I was re-telling the story of Jesus calming the waters of the Sea of Galilee, and I got to the point where the disciples were completely freaking out about the ship being covered by the waves. I asked the question, “do you ever find yourself so afraid that you forget to ask for help?”

Elliot laughed and said, “Yeah, every time I have to get my nose cauterized.” (He has been having a lot of problems with nosebleeds and such and I feel so sorry for him) Meagan and Chelsea laughed and we each took a turn to tell the things that scare us. I began telling them about how I memorized Psalm 56:3 when I was merely four years old. A tonsillectomy at that young age terrified me so greatly that I quoted that verse at every doctor and nurse who walked into the room.

Which probably clarified that I was indeed a very odd child.

But while I was sharing that story this morning, it suddenly hit me. I still run around frantically, worrying about things that I have no control over while the Lord waits for me to rush to Him and ask for help.

What time I am afraid, I will trust in Thee.