Post a Day, Post a Week?

WordPress is starting a post a day/post a week challenge for 2011. I want to do this, I really do. It will be fun. I doubt my ability to write anything worth posting on a regular basis, but maybe that is only part of the reason for jumping in. Some of this will be about developing regularity and commitment, discipline and perseverance. What can you lose?

Here is the sample post and challenge from WordPress:

Title: I’m Posting every day in 2011!

I’ve decided I want to blog more. Rather than just thinking about doing it, I’m starting right now.  I will be posting on this blog once a day / once a week for all of 2011.

I know it won’t be easy, but it might be fun, inspiring, awesome and wonderful. Therefore I’m promising to make use of The DailyPost, and the community of other bloggers with similiar goals, to help me along the way, including asking for help when I need it and encouraging others when I can.

If you already read my blog, I hope you’ll encourage me with comments and likes, and good will along the way.

Signed,

<Your Name Here>

Sound like fun? Are you up for it? What is holding you back?

For me there is some fear associated with this. What will I write about? Who will read it? Will it stink out loud? Likely some of it will, but at the end of 2011 we will all look back with a sense of accomplishment. We’ll see growth and development in our skills. We’ll have a new community of readers and writers.

Will I make a post a day, or even a week? Likely not. There are already some weeks ahead that are tightly scheduled and won’t allow the luxury of an unintimidated keyboard. But somewhere between 52 posts (if you post once a week) and 365 posts (if you post once a day) is what I’ll shoot for. That leaves some wiggle room. That is something I can do!

From where I sit, the positives outweigh the negatives.

So, as morning light gains a foothold over the snow draped mountains, I’ll look forward to the coming year of posts. What’s the worst that will happen? I won’t make a post a day, maybe not even a post a week, but I’ll end the year having written more than the year before, and that will have made it all worthwhile.

A Different Kind of Christmas

In 1966, at the age of eleven, I spent Christmas in Berlin.  My mother purposely planned this as a powerful lesson about freedom and democracy.  Germany was still divided and occupied by Allied Forces following WWII.  Access to the former capital, Berlin, was controlled by the Soviet government.  My mother said, “Kristi, this will be a different kind of Christmas, and it will change your life forever.”  That year we left the Santa Claus Christmas behind with all the decorations, the carols, and the warmly lighted tree in our living room.

Our Christmas journey began with an evening train departure from a West German station.  We traveled through the night, crossing into East Germany under cover of darkness, a stipulation of the communist government. We woke to a leaden mist swirling outside the window. Not three feet away was a double row of twelve-foot chain link fences topped with razor wire.  The space between the fences allowed uniformed guards to patrol, armed with rifles and accompanied by guard dogs. On the opposite side of the train another set of fences and guards completed the security system.  We had traveled through the night, a method that kept surrounding Communist-controlled land from perusal by those wishing to enter Berlin during the Cold War years.

Our visit to West Berlin included a trip to a museum dedicated to those whose ingenuity and courage had allowed them to escape the Communist-controlled country.  It was heart wrenching to see the deprivation.

We heard stories of many who had tried to escape but had been gunned down or imprisoned.  We saw the series of fences, the guard towers, the check points.  On a tour into East Berlin we felt the intimidation of the guards who walked the aisles of our bus to check under and between seats for any who might be hiding.  We watched as they checked under the buses with mirrors looking for those who may have strapped themselves to the undercarriage, hoping to gain their freedom.

The damp cold of a northern European December could not compare to the chill that permeated our hearts.  You see, the citizens of this country were not allowed to celebrate Christmas.  The citizens of West Berlin, occupied by French, British and American forces after WWII, would do what they could for those on the Soviet side of the Berlin Wall.

Our Christmas tree that year was perched atop the Berlin wall, stabilized amidst the broken glass cemented along the top edge, one more diabolical means to keep souls from scaling its barrier in an attempt for freedom.  The tree, one of many situated at intervals along the wall, was placed so those on the Soviet side would have a reminder of Christ’s birth, a truth they were not allowed to celebrate or acknowledge. Christmas carols played from loudspeakers in hope the citizens in the Soviet part of the city could hear them.  News flashed from the top of the highest building, telling of happenings in the free world.  It was a cold, gray existence, and we saw no one smile.

I had understood that Christmas was more than Santa Claus, presents under the tree, and special holiday delicacies.  I had known it was more than the warmth of family and friends sharing time together.  But I had never experienced a Christmas surrounded by those with no joy, by those whose job it was to constantly monitor your actions and conversation.

My mother was right, that Christmas changed my life forever.  I would never again take freedom for granted.  But there was more.

That year I realized there had to be something extremely significant about the birth of Christ, about who He was and why He came, that the government of an entire nation would go to such lengths to stifle the truth of His existence.  They had tried to keep Him out, but they could not.

Built in 1961, the Berlin Wall stood until 1989, the year President Reagan challenged Mikhail Gorbachev to “tear down this wall.” It had stood as a physical roadblock to freedom for many people, but Christ’s message had not been kept out—it was hidden in the hearts of many, including President Gorbachev himself.  In March, 2008, he admitted his closeted faith, the faith that God used to bring Soviet communism to an end.

Christmas, and the Christ Child Himself, had made a long-awaited appearance.

And so, this Christmas season gives much to rejoice over.

Freedom, and those who protect it

The joy of corporate worship

Family rejoicing together

The celebration of the One born to set us truly free

The freshening that comes with the promise of a New Year: clean, perfect, and anticipated


Multitude Monday: Working Here?

Sometimes changes in life follow the annual shifts in the seasons. This year that is proving to be the case. For almost three years I’ve had time to recoup from some major life changes. As a result, I’ve moved to a beautiful and inspiring place. Time has been filled doing volunteer work for several organizations, making new friends, traveling to Central Asia, and being available to encourage my adult children.

I’ve had time to rest and rekindle.

But the autumn shift this year has also brought a new job. With it comes an opportunity to speak into young lives and bring home a pay check. If you haven’t caught my enthusiasm yet, check out these photographs of Glen Eyrie, the conference center owned and operated by the Navigators. Nestled in it’s own secluded valley, it was originally the private home of General Palmer, founder of Colorado Springs.

Some of the regular residents rambling the acreage include a herd of big horn sheep, several rafters of turkeys (yes, I had to look that up), deer, and bear. As a conference center it is a place where people from all over the world come to learn and grow in their faith.

It is a peaceful place, one of my favorite spots on earth.

And they are going to pay me to work here!

So, on this Multitude Monday, I begin my list with thanks for His gracious provision:

A new job

His perfect timing

A new season

A lingering summer

The first signs of approaching fall

The yellow in the treetops

The antelope grazing across the road, the herd grown this year to an even dozen

Sunflowers blooming across the fields

The moon dancing across the sky

Fields tanning across the hills as summer grows to a close

The grasses whispering as they fade

A chill in the evenings and a sweater to warm in

Candle light, warmth for the eyes and the heart

God’s purpose, manifest

God’s love and strength

~”And my God will meet all your needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus. To our God and Father be glory for ever and ever. Amen.”

Philippians 4:19-20







Made Perfect in Weakness…

But thou art making me, I thank Thee, sire.

What Thou hast done and doest Thou knows’t well.

And I will help thee; gently in Thy fire

I will lie burning; on Thy potter’s wheel

I will whirl patient, though my brain should reel.

Thy grace shall be enough the grief to quell,

And growing strength perfect through weakness dire.


George MacDonald, Diary of An Old Soul, October 2.


But [the Lord] said, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”

2 Cor. 12:9











Multitude Monday

God’s grace is rich this morning, joy meeting the glory of sun blushed clouds and cricket song on the porch.

~ripening tomatoes, red on the vine

~just enough clouds to reflect the rising sun

~our very own cricket in the flowers on the patio

~anticipation of good things, just over the horizon

~lingering summer

~sunlight in patches on the prairie

~God’s hand directing our work

~freedom, and the men and women who protect it

~ a son on his way to do the work God called him to

~a Father’s gift–grocery store flowers, warm reds, reduced and in my basket

~a patio to sit on

~God’s promise of protection and long life–Psalm 91

~ice cream, outdoors

~morning, fresh–a new day, a new week, a new season

~strength to accomplish His purpose

~a faithful washing machine, turning out clean laundry

~a turning of the tap–and clean, fresh water in my sink, in my shower!

~a new set of pens in five different colors with ink to match!

~God’s resilient strength placed in our hearts, ready in all seasons of life

~His Word, meat to chew, sustenance that carries us into the new day

Praise be to the LORD,
for he has heard my cry for mercy.

The LORD is my strength and my shield;
my heart trusts in him, and I am helped.
My heart leaps for joy
and I will give thanks to him in song.

The LORD is the strength of his people,
a fortress of salvation for his anointed one.

Save your people and bless your inheritance;
be their shepherd and carry them forever.

Psalm 28: 6-9 NIV

May God’s rich heritage be known by you today, with ever-deepening understanding, in ever-widening circles of joy.

Love,

~Kris

Multitude Monday: Filling the Missing Chunk

It would never have crossed my mind to buy an inflatable palm tree.

Yet there it stood, 6 feet tall with a pool at its base holding ice and drinks. It added fun to our annual barbecue and did its job with flare and function.

My sister-friends had pulled a theme together, decorated tables and planned the menu. I was able to chip in with the general work and clean up, but the ability to turn a meal into a celebration came from their creative ability.

Now, I can cook and sew and do the job of feeding folks in large numbers. I can even throw a piñata and a sheet cake into the mix if called upon. But the joy of creating a festive atmosphere is a chunk that is missing in my makeup, and I know it.

My sisters fill in that missing chunk, and I’m so thankful to have them in my life. In their honor, this weeks list of Endless Gifts starts with them:

Pat and Sherrie and Kathy, my anti-stodgy chunk filler-in-ers

Creativity in all its forms

Inflatable palm trees :)

Hospitality at its warmest

Opportunity to share talents

Being loved in your lack

Smiles all around

Happy hearts

Full tummies

Ice cream cake, donated by Maggie Moo’s

Mike and Steve, the guys flipping burgers

Gip, the famous praying therapy dog

The gentle music of Nancy’s harp

Our faithful military chaplains

The unsung heroes, our Nurse Case Managers

who work tirelessly for our Wounded Warriors

“The Lord  bless you and keep you;

the Lord make his face shine upon you and be gracious to you;

The Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace.”

Numbers 6:24-26, NIV





A Summer Multitude Monday

On this Monday, a chance to praise God for His blessings

and be thankful for

  • The opportunity to ramble with camera in hand
  • Beauty close and accessible
  • A place where faith and family still matter

  • Farming, and towns where you can still park the tractor

  • Cloud shadows racing across the valley

  • Churches and schools together

  • The view from a place only a bird could be

  • Family time, family visits
  • Good BBQ
  • Opportunity to encourage others
  • The red, white, and blue and all it stands for
  • Chaplains
  • Bugs for kittens to stalk
  • Deep conversation, continuing across miles and years
  • Walking, hiking, trekking, mobility in all its forms
  • Babies, new and smiling
  • Company coming
  • Thunderstorms
  • Still green grass
  • Tomorrow, and the hope it has to offer
  • Today, because it is

Be blessed this week, and walk in the knowledge that God loves you.

In Him who loved us first,

Kris

Does God See?

“He sees you,” she whispered, bent low, hands on my shoulders.  Later another woman crossed the room, knelt by me and said, “God sees you. He sees your tears, your faithfulness, your years of hard work. He sees you.”

How odd. I hadn’t been aware of the need for such encouragement, yet twice in one morning the same word came through two unconnected women. The following week a third person delivered the same message.  Spoken with no elaboration, almost as an afterthought, the words struck with an intensity and depth that left no doubt of its significance.

God had my attention.

I went home feeling ravaged. The message had sheared my armor and exposed my soul. So what? He sees me? He sees everyone. I’m still here, alone. Instead of giving strength and comfort these encounters had marked a deep sense of abandonment. I had walked through the forty-nine months since my husband’s illness and death wrapped in God’s presence, like a blanket insulating me from the harshness of the reality. Yet there was something else deep inside, untouched and unacknowledged. My response to the message was mystifying, yet God was using it to uncover something hidden deep in my heart–the depth of aloneness that comes with separation from our “one flesh” partner.

And a seed of bitterness trying to find the light.

Days passed. I came across in Laurens Van Der Post’s A Story Like the Wind a moving reference to the African Sindabele greeting, “I see you, indeed I see you.” Spoken with the right hand lifted high, palm out, it is a sign of “being recognized and accepted…almost as good as an embrace.”

This touches me through. It makes me want to draw closer, to pull out the meaning of God’s message. I draw a shuddering breath. Okay, God, I’m ready. Please show me what You want me to see. I get out my Bible and begin to study.

“The God Who Sees,” El Roi, is found in the story of Hagar in Genesis 16. Hagar is a run-away Egyptian slave. She is pregnant with Abraham’s child, was treated cruelly by her mistress, and has struck out across the desert to return to her homeland. In her loneliness and distress El Roi finds her.

This is one of the few places in the Old Testament where God appears in physical form, a theophany. Not only does He appear, He ‘sees’ her depth of anguish and despair. He makes Himself visible and speaks directly to her. The cultural implications are similar to Jesus’ speaking to the Samaritan woman in John 4. This was something that wasn’t done. Men did not lower themselves to speak with women, much less a female slave.

But He speaks to her, confronting her deepest need and bringing comfort and encouragement. He gives her promises for the son she is carrying, and blesses him with the name Ishmael, meaning “God Hears.”

Before God appears to Moses in the burning bush, before Jacob wrestles with Him at Peniel, God appears to Hagar. A woman–a slave, an Egyptian, someone out of God’s chosen line–was seen by God. Here she names Him El Roi, and the place she names Beer Lahai Roi, “The Well of the One Who Lives and Sees Me.”

Following this meeting, Hagar obeys God and returns to her earthly master, Abraham. He also listens to her, hearing with an obedient heart, and honors her encounter by christening their son Ishmael, the name given by El Roi.

Reading and studying this short passage begins to open my heart and mind to God’s message. Like the loving God He is, he was answering a need before I was fully aware of it. He was working deeply, rooting out a seed of bitterness and abandonment I wasn’t aware of. While I had chosen to stand on the Word of God, trusting that He never leaves us nor forsakes us, that He is a Father to the fatherless and a husband to the widow, there was more going on in my heart than I realized.

Two weeks went by and another woman pulled me aside, looked into my eyes and said, “He sees you.” This time I could hear and receive the message as God intended, a message of love and encouragement. But, if I hadn’t been willing to face the sense of abandonment and work through it, the message could have been lost. Worse, it could have hardened the shell developing over my heart.

Instead, it has brought healing, growth, wisdom, and thankfulness. I know now that He not only sees me, my needs, my heart, and my future but that He also cares for me at a depth that is unfathomable, except by His grace.

And I am blessed.

God bless you and keep you,

God smile upon you and gift you,

God look you full in the face, and make you prosper.

The Aaronic Blessing, Numbers 6:24-25, The Message


A Multitude Monday

Flowers for you on this Multitude Monday!

Endless gifts on this Multitude Monday:

Rubies in my garden: geraniums blooming

Scarlet orbs, flavorful: cherry tomatoes

Beans sprouting in window boxes

Open windows with fresh air sliding through

Rain, and the smell of its coming

Thunder, a vocal promise

People that help others

Tea, a good thing

Tea, with friend: even better

A son coming to visit

An opportunity to blog through Daniel’s deployment

My laptop, holding all my dreams and communications

The Right to Write project, and writing through it

Journaling, and the freedom to do so

My Savior, who holds our worlds in His capable, loving hands

And another gift from artist Lori Vafiades: Fine Linen (The Bride of Christ)

From Revelation 19:5-8. Lori’s other work can be found at http://www.greatcompany.org

Grace to you, dear readers. May God’s peace find its place in your hearts.

~Love,

Kris