Faithful in All he does

 One of Honeysuckle's boys falls asleep in the stable.

 

Today didn’t seem like Sunday, January 1, 2012. I’m without a car – holed up in Toad Hall.  Feeding Honeysuckle and the last two boys left in her litter, drinking red wine and eating chocolate by myself. Denis is in St. Louis and Anita is visiting Marsena in Chicago. I stayed home from church. I could have called a friend to pick me up, but I was not feeling my best, so just as well. No!  ONE glass of wine does nothing except be “good for the stomach.”

I suppose a lot of us have fleeting urges to review and reflect. I do. But I learned long ago that making New Year’s resolutions is plain stupid. It’s not that I don’t try. Anyway, since there was no one around to blame for my adult attention deficits, I settled down with coffee to reflect and write.

One of the important things to came out of this is a Psalm I’ve probably read dozens of times, but today it sounded all new and like I should read it everyday this year so I can remember what it says. Here is part of Psalm 33: 

     For the word of the LORD is right and true; he is faithful in all [All!] he does.

The LORD loves righteousness and justice; the earth is full [Full!] of his unfailing love.

The LORD foils the plans of the nations; he thwarts the purposes of the peoples.
But the plans of the LORD stand firm forever, the purposes of his heart through all generations.

From heaven the LORD looks down and sees all mankind; from his dwelling place he watches all who live on earth – he who forms the hearts of all, who considers everything they do.

     No king is saved by the size of his army; no warrior escapes by his great strength.
A horse is a vain hope for deliverance; despite all its great strength it cannot save.
But the eyes of the LORD are on those who fear him, on those whose hope is in his unfailing love, to deliver them from death and keep them alive in famine.

                We wait in hope for the LORD; he is our help and our shield.             In him our hearts rejoice, for we trust in his holy name.”

I  think the death and famine David writes of could be both literal and not. That in life, things, dreams, hopes, not just bodies, die. Jobs vanish. Friends move away. Families disappear or never were. We are often famished for people and things we can’t reach, or don’t have. Death and famine can make me everything from desperate to numb to hungry to resigned. God knows this about us. That’s why he is so careful and caring to give us words like these that reorient our hearts and reflect realities we often forget. I’m hungry for words such as these – for help. It is God who keeps us alive, who is unfailing in his love for us.

This past year I reckon there were many ways in which God met us unexpectedly both in famine and in death. I was given things I don’t deserve. I was loved by people who I think, if only they knew me better… well, some do know and still. I’ve found things I thought were lost forever. I’ve heard music that made my stunted little Presbyterian heart rock ‘n’ roll. It seems a little ridiculous to keep on listing. But I’ve made my private account of the times. I’m keeping a record and I’m trying to be thankful for once. It’s scary to wait for God, to be patient, but it’s what I want to do.

A lot of friends read this blog, and I think of you, and of others I may not know. What I wish for you and pray is that you would find that this year – in ways you can’t imagine now – that God is with you in all your days and that he will save you not in the way you expect, perhaps, but in ways that will cause you to know that he is the one who loves you most and can make you live. 

Living with blind spots

It is no longer “OFFICAL.” It’s been fixed and it was so easy. I just let our webmaster know and he changed it. He took the word out. So look at the top of the page. You are reading “The Blog of Notes From Toad Hall.”

My daughter-in-law sent a message the other day. Subject: “call me dumb.” (No, she’s not dumb. Nor am I. I don’t think…)

“So, I was looking at your blog today and something has always looked a little funny to me. I finally figured it out today. In your title the word "official". You have it spelled “offical.” Is that an alternate spelling or intentional? More curious than anything.”

That would be “ah-fickle” rhymes with “ah-pickle.” Why has no one told me til now? For almost two years?! (See how I can make this your fault?) This has to be a case of the brain seeing what it wants to see. I think it’s also called scotoma or blind spots.

I prefer to think it has nothing to do with stupidity, but I can’t be sure of that. I’m uncertain because it is rare when I notice my own impairments and personal flaws. It’s shocking to be told, you are frowning. No I’m not. You are. I don’t feel frowny. I’m not frowning. So I sneak a look at myself when I’m not looking and sure enough. That’s my default pose. But I can explain, it’s just my serious concentrating look, I’m not mad at you.

Every Sunday we are led through confession. During that part of the service, I try to be present – though I can drift off, thinking about who knows what – maybe we should ask Ron if we can borrow his live squirrel trap, or some other weird thing – and suddenly, arrgh, I’ve missed that part of the service altogether. But when I stay present sifting my heart, listening and looking, not only for the OBVIOUS, but for blind spots - I know it’s not quite the same as letting the webmaster know there is a misspelling in the title of your blog, but, okay, there’s some faint connection - that in talking to God about all the stuff I do that I can’t even name cuz I’m not even in touch with it (lurking as it does in my blind spot) God can and DOES have enough mercy to spread over me. I’m relieved that even in my know-nothing condition, I don’t need to completely despair or obsess about it - I have forgiveness and confidence in the mercy of God. I’ve learned it from coming back again and again to this piece of knowing Jesus:

“Since, then, we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast to our confession. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who in every respect has been tested as we are, yet without sin. Let us therefore approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we

may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.” (Hebrews 4:14-16).

Through this window

I like to think who lives behind that window, and that shade, and that one and that one and it takes about fifteen seconds and a knock on the head to stop that kind of mental hashish. Where we live, a small Midwestern city, there are 2,454 people per square mile so it’s a conceivable pastime. Out this way, Manhattan, for example, has the highest population density of any city in the US at 66,940.1 people per square mile. That was in 2002. Looking down from the top of the Rockefeller Center jams my brain.

While on vacation I try to maintain some bits of reading here and there for sake of nourishment and grounding. Jerram Barrs’ Through His Eyes is doing that for me. Are you with me yet? It’s okay if you’re not.

I was thinking about the stories behind all those windows. It’s good we don’t know them all, being finite and what not and came to this:

The story of Tamar is a shocking story, but events like these in her story happen every day in all of our cities, in every country on the face of this earth. Some of the people involved in these shocking events are Christian believers, and yet God does not abandon them. Each one of us who reads Tamar’s story knows that we have made choices and done things to other people that have been seriously wrong, and yet God has not turned away from us. The truth is that God has no other people to love and to honor – and to forgive than people who are sinners.

Packing for home

In your unfailing love you will lead the people you have redeemed. In your strength you will guide them to your holy dwelling. – Moses.

Some very dear passages from Exodus popped as I read today. Of particular interest was Miriam, Moses’ sister, who led the women in singing a hymn to the Lord. She “took a tambourine in her hand and all the women followed her, with tambourines and dancing.”
This took place after what must have looked like The End. There was no escape. They had fled into a trap, mountains on either side, the sea ahead, and the Egyptian army closing behind them. What could they do, encumbered as they were with their little ones, their grandpas and grandmas, and all those sheep and goats? The Israelites’ rescue has never been forgotten, the images are embedded in our language. Miriam sang and danced: Sing to the Lord, for he is highly exalted. The horse and its rider he has hurled into the sea.


Aside from wishing to be more like my current African Christian sisters who dance in worship, I am curious about the tambourines. Directly on the other side of this event Miriam digs through her luggage and pulls out a tambourine? If you are a refugee packing for the wilderness in a time of national crisis and hostility would you say, oh, this will probably come in handy? Not I.

Perhaps it’s a reminder that we travel home not only with bare necessities, (and remember they were fleeing for their lives) but we must also carry the things that flourish and embellish life. The extra serif on a letter, the violet on a plate of salad, the countermelody that floats above the line, and even the decorative metal etching on the rifle stock.

Receiving the Offer

Snow is steadily sifting down, inches piling and piling on every branch, auto, and ledge. Now the wind is picking up and the temperature will drop to minus fifteen tonight. Two of our neighbors are already trying to shovel and snow-blow. Yesterday there was a break in storms, a window of cold sunshine allowed roads to be cleared from here to Waterloo, Iowa where the prairie winds drifted snow two feet deep. That window allowed our son and his family to leave around noon as they headed south to Micah’s family in Herman, MO. Having them arrive at 2:30 A.M. and to awaken the next morning to the creak of footsteps sneaking up the stairs, and to make buckwheat pancakes, to have Anson and Paige (no time wasted sleeping) rolling up the rugs, dragging boxes of toys, and redesigning the first floor was chaos and celebration. They left by noon. Later in the day my brother-in-law and youngest sister hurried through Rochester from Cedar Rapids back home to Biwabik, MN in a race to beat the next storm. We gulped a cup of coffee and snarfed a cookie together, talking as fast as we could eating time. The window for travel has now closed again for another day or so.

And now Denis is out snow-blowing, trying to beat the pile-up and the dropping temps.

Today, first thing, I was off to the post office to mail the eBay Bible to girlonajourney who “won.” Getting out before the roads close. This is good. My guilt is half assuaged to think someone will be making good use of this journal Bible. The reading schedule in my old raggedy copy, which I’m now fine with, has taken me to Isaiah where the prophet records the words of “the Sovereign Lord, the Holy One of Israel” saying: “In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength..” Trying to think what that means and get it into every day real nights and days, and trying to take myself (get back, Satan) far away from the final phrase of that verse: “but you would have none of it.” I’d like to accept this offer for what most of us need most of the time. Or is it just me?

Margie's eBay?

For sale:
One Slightly used beautifully bound ESV Journal Bible.
Black leather. 7.5 inches by 6.5 inches.
Original price: $52.00
Previous owner opened twice and decided print too small. However, owner also stupidly wrote name on flyleaf and comment in Isaiah 7. Argh!
Will ship free to highest bidder.
Anyone?