Here I Am To Worship

Being a speaker has afforded me with various opportunities for worship in many different venues. I've worshiped at a church camp in the middle of the woods, in a conference room in a swanky hotel, in a small country church, in an elaborate sanctuary at a large church, in a parking lot at a baseball field.

While all of those worship times are special to me in their own way, there is nothing quite like worshiping in my home church with brothers and sisters in Christ with whom I share life each week. I begin looking forward to Sunday morning worship on Monday when I wake from my night of sleep. My church is richly blessed with musical talent ... the worship minister, the musicians and the singers are all gifted and consistently usher us into the presence of our Lord.

Perhaps because my heart is currently in a tender state, yesterday's time of worship was especially meaningful to me. The lyrics of every song seemed to penetrate to the depths of my soul, speaking to me in the very core of my spirit. As I listened to the voices around me, I found myself picturing the joy that must be present in heaven when God's people lift their praises to Him in song ... hands lifted, heads bowed, kneeling before the throne ... offering up the glory and honor that is due the Creator of the universe, the Lord of all, the Savior of mankind.

As I drove to work this morning listening to praise music on my iPod, I realized that while those times of corporate worship are wonderful and important to my walk with Christ, my worship shouldn't only take place on Sunday. My attitude, my heart and my mind should worship all week long ... I should be living my life in an ongoing state of worship and praise to my God. I should be lifting my hands, bowing my head and kneeling before Him every day ... allowing Him to humble me, to change me, to grow me, to break me.

So it's Monday ... and here I am to worship, Lord ... here I am to worship You ... the One who died for me.

Plain Old Fun

This morning at church, our youth minister's oldest daughter ran up to me and said, "What do we call the slide?" And I replied in my loudest, most frightened voice, "Freaky!" She laughed heartily and went on her way. A few minutes later, another young girl came running up to me, grabbed me around the waist and gave me a giant hug, telling me how much fun she had walking one of my son's wiener dogs on Friday night. Little did those girls know that they did their part today in lifting my spirits and bringing me some unanticipated joy on a gray and cool Sunday morning.

I've recently had the blessing of spending time with some younger children, and I do mean blessing. It's been a while since I had the opportunity to hang out with kiddos, and quite honestly, I had forgotten how truly fun they are. A couple of Saturdays ago, I spent some time on the church playground with four children ... swinging, blowing dandelions, hunting dragons in a castle, and yes, even going down the "freaky" slide. And over the last few weeks, I've gone on walks with some young children, watched them eat dessert, hidden Easter eggs and played a very fun word game. All of those unexpected encounters have been ... well ... just plain old fun for me.

There is something so healing in the smile or laughter of a child, something so warm and tender when a child places their hand in mine or wraps their arms around me in a hug, something so trusting when a child leans their head in close to mine as we talk about their favorite candy bar or game or subject in school. There is something so precious about the innocence, honesty and love that exists in the heart of a child.

As I drove away from church this morning, I couldn't help but smile as I thought about the children who are now part of my life. And as I thanked God for placing them there, I couldn't help but think of my own relationship with my heavenly Father ... of how He desires that I run to Him, place my hand in His, lean my head in close to Him and talk. I couldn't help but think how sad He must be when I turn away, walk my own way, shut Him out of my life.

So, here's to princesses in castles, freaky slides, wiener dog walks, game playing, hugs, high-fives and plain old fun. And here's to walking hand-in-hand with my Lord, trusting completely in His love and resting in His grace and mercy. I think I'll hang on tightly ... my guess is it's gonna be an incredible ride.

Toilet Seats and Broken Hearts

Not too long ago, I told a friend to feel free to hit me on the head with a brick when I need to be reminded that God is always in control of all things. When I wrote those words, I never expected that God would take me up on that challenge and choose to use a toilet seat rather than a brick to get my attention, but I suppose I am glad that He did.

For the first time since God called me to a speaking ministry 10 years ago, I had to cancel my participation in an event this weekend due to some health-related issues. Since my plans changed, my oldest son and daughter-in-law came to town Friday evening to give me some much needed and much appreciated help around the house and a huge dose of love and affection. An evening spent with them and some dear friends did wonders for my sagging spirit. I went to bed feeling more than blessed and loved, and drifted into a quiet and peaceful sleep.

As is true every night, I rose in the middle of the night to check my blood sugar, stopping first in the bathroom to ... well, you know. As I stood up, I was overcome with nausea, broke out in a cold sweat and then promptly bit the dust. When I came to, I was on the floor with a skinned knee, a bump on my head and ... you guessed it ... a broken toilet seat, caused I'm sure by my wounded head. I crawled back into my room and pulled my reeling body back into bed, hoping the racket hadn't woken my son and daughter-in-law.

My home church was hosting a Beth Moore simulcast today but since I was scheduled to be out of town speaking, I had not planned to attend. God, however, obviously had different plans for me this weekend and when our women's ministry leader heard that I couldn't travel, she immediately said, "Then you need to come to the Beth Moore event." My response was a firm and resounding, "Maybe." Insert the words "brick" and "toilet seat" here, and you'll know that I found myself attending the simulcast today with a sore knee and head, and a more than sizable chip on my shoulder.

Mrs. Moore had six points in her message, all of them significant and insightful, but it was her remarks in regard to her final point that cut to the core of my heart. I need to state here that I do not cry easily ... and I certainly do not shed tears in front of others if I can at all avoid it. As the event closed with a time of worship ending with the song "Amazing Grace, My Chains Are Gone," I was overwhelmed with the realization that there are areas of my life that I've held onto, places that I won't allow God to go into, things that I have stubbornly refused to give up and let go of. The tears that I fought so hard to control quickly turned into weeping as God let me know once again that I need to be humbled ... to be broken ... to lay it all down ... to rest in Him and His plan.

Take my chains, Lord, and make me whole in You ... crush my stubborn will and humble my prideful spirit. And if You need to break a toilet seat or two in the process to cause me to look up to You, I'm OK with that.

Drink Deeply Part 2

A few weeks ago, I penned a post called "Drink Deeply" ... the result of a comment left by a friend on one of my Facebook posts concerning being in the desert in my walk of faith. That particular blog generated a great deal of commentary and interesting feedback as people shared their thoughts and opinions with me, some positive and some negative. The two words "drink deeply" obviously had a large impact on others just as they did on me.

I've alluded in my last couple of posts to an event last weekend that caused my doctor to suspend my solitary walking routine for a time, and over the last couple of days, I've received a multitude of emails and messages inquiring about the status of my health. Rather than try to answer them individually, I'd like to use this blog to assure each of you that I'm fine ... having a few bumps in the road, but I'm working through them and improving.

Over the last few days, the words "drink deeply" have once again given me pause to consider their significance and meaning. This time, the words came from my doctor, as she was trying to impress upon me the seriousness of my state of dehydration and encourage me to drink more fluids. I'm sure my eyes popped when she spoke those two words that have grown to carry such meaning for me ... "Terrie, you have to drink often and drink deeply. There is no choice, no option, no other way. You must drink."

I don't believe that things just happen by chance; I believe there is a master plan orchestrated by the Master of all things. I don't believe it is coincidence that during a time in my life when I am in a dry spot in my walk of faith, I am encouraged to stop at the oasis of God's love and forgiveness and drink deeply. I don't believe that "drink deeply" is an accidental choice of words from my doctor during a time of physical upheaval in my life, but rather a divine reminder that God meets my physical needs as well as my spiritual ones.

For those of you who have communicated your concern, love, support, encouragement and prayers ... thank you so very much. Your messages and emails mean a ton to me, and I truly appreciate you taking the time to send them along.

And for those of you who are thirsty ... drink deeply, my friends, drink deeply.

Breaking the Rules

I know that I posted a blog earlier today, and I know it's a bit over the top to write two in one day, but something happened this evening that merits another post. And I need to begin by saying that I must make a confession right from the start. I walked alone tonight, even though my doctor told me not to yesterday until she said it was safe for me to do so. I couldn't find anyone to walk with, so I broke the rules and walked alone. Before you throw, as my mom used to say, a "conniption fit," I now walk with a backpack that contains identification, a drink, my testing kit, glucose pills and gel, juice, cell phone, the kitchen sink, etc.

For those of you who read this blog often, you know that my nightly walks are so much more to me than just the physical activity of walking. They truly are medicine for my soul, whether they are solitary or shared with friends. My doctor would only allow me to work a half-day yesterday and today, and I spent my afternoon growing more and more angry that I was home on a beautiful spring day and I wasn't allowed to take J.R. and go for a very long afternoon walk. By the time 7:15 rolled around, I packed my suitcase for my back and took off.

I walked slowly tonight and did pretty well for the first 30 minutes, and then I started with the now all too familiar low blood sugar shakes. After my crash on Sunday, I immediately pulled J.R. to the side of the path, took off my backpack and sat down in the grass. I grabbed my kit and stuck my finger, saw the low number, sucked down the box of juice, ate a glucose pill, waited a few minutes, stuck myself again, saw the low number, ate another pill and waited for the sugar to work its miracle in my uncooperative body.

When my sugar levels finally rose, I stood up and headed toward home. As I've written about before, I often see the same people as I walk each evening. As I began to walk, a gentleman that I pass almost every evening stopped and asked if he could pet J.R. As we chatted, the man shared that he was a pastor, and I shared that I often speak for women's groups. Since I was feeling rather weak from the blood sugar episode, and since I see this man almost every night, I made a split-second decision to tell him about my diabetes and ask if he would call for help if he ever saw me in trouble on the path. What happened next was, well, nothing short of a God thing.

Andy is his name, and right there on the trail, he said, "Let's pray right now," reached out and took my hand, bowed his head and began to pray for me. As I stood there with my hand in his and my head bowed, I was overwhelmed with the magnitude of the moment. I had chosen to defy my doctor and break the rules, to do something that I knew wasn't smart ... and I made that defiant and obstinate decision out of one emotion only ... anger. And yet, God still sent a blessing my way, right in the midst of my stubbornness, right to the middle of my angry heart.

As Andy ended his prayer and we said goodbye, each step I took toward home was filled with mixed emotions. Thankfulness for the gift of Andy's prayer, and at the same time, guilt over knowing that I had taken a huge risk by walking alone. Tears filled my eyes and spilled onto the path below as God spoke in a big way to my angry and defiant spirit, as He melted my pride and my selfish heart.

I made it home safely, obviously, since I'm writing this blog. But I also made it home changed. I don't know exactly how, but I've got to figure out a way to not walk alone for a while. I've got to swallow my pride and follow the rules somehow.

So here's to you, Andy, and to your heart for the Lord and the power of prayer. Thanks for letting God use you to teach me that there are times in life when I need to stop right in the middle of the path, take someone's hand, and say, "Let's pray right now."

Change in Plans

One of my favorite things to do is to grab my camera, jump in my car with a dog or two, and drive around taking pictures of whatever catches my eye. Some days, old houses draw me in with their weathered and beaten wood or brick exteriors. Some days, I'm captivated by the flight of birds or the antics of my hounds. Some days, I am taken with the quiet beauty of a bubbling stream or still lake. I've come to the conclusion that it may not be the photography itself that makes those outings among my favorite times, but rather the freedom of getting up on a Saturday and taking off for the day ... no worries, no television or phones, no boundaries, no responsibilities ... just simple and pure freedom.

Recently, I've had to redefine certain areas of my life, and one of those redefinitions concerns my fiercely independent, fly by the seat of my pants, land where I may whenever I want nature. I am learning ... and yes, it is a process, and yes, I'm stubborn and it may take some time ... to be more discerning, more cautious, more honest, more open, more diligent, more pliable, more accepting, less defensive, less private, less afraid, less obstinate, less unwilling.

This learning event in my life has not been an easy one, and I've been like my Julie on her leash. I have pulled and tugged and fought against giving up even a shred of my freedom or a flicker of my independence. And, like Julie, sometimes nothing gets my attention except a jerk of the leash and a stern conversation from my Owner ... never a fun or pleasant experience, but at times much needed and deserved.

An event last weekend prompted my doctor to suspend my solitary evening walks for a time, telling me that I must not walk alone until she feels that it is safe for me to do so. I grumbled and complained and fussed about that mandate all day yesterday, telling myself that I know my own body and I should be able to determine whether or not I walk alone. And then, I was joined last night by a dad and two kiddos for my nightly walk. As is so often the case, God taught me a lesson along the path last night ... a lesson that I hope I carry with me for a very long time. He is using some not very fun events in my life to make me open to new friendships and relationships, to cause me to slow down and cherish the special moments along the way.

You see ... I've been focusing on what I've lost ... and through the conversation and the laughter and the kid hugs last night ... God showed me instead what He's giving me.

The Ripple Effect

Remember when you were a little kid and you'd throw rocks in the water and watch the ripples spread wider and wider until they disappeared? I do. I remember skipping stones on the water, pitching rocks as far out as I could, and watching the ripples glide across the shimmering surface of the pond or lake.

Even when we think they don't, every action in our lives has a ripple effect on someone in some way. The good we do touches those around us, often in ways that we can't imagine or perhaps don't even recognize. I've heard story after story of people whose lives were drastically changed by the love and kindness of another person. By the same token, the less desirable ... dare I say it? ... cruel or unlovely actions in our lives affect others as well, and many times have long-lasting and far-reaching effects that we may never know.

Today I decided that I'd like to be the stone that God tosses into the water ... flying through the air ... splashing into the coolness of the lake ... landing in the soft sand underneath ... watching to see where He directs the ripples of my life to go. I'd like for Him to pick me up out of the dirt, lift me from the rocks, and hold me in His hand ... smooth away the rough edges, clean off the mud and mire, launch me out to make some ripples for Him.

Yep, I'd really like to be that stone.

Walk the Walk

If anyone would have told me a year ago that I would be walking for 45 minutes to an hour each evening, I would have laughed and said, "No way!" At that time, I couldn't walk for 15 minutes without struggling to breathe and having every muscle in my body cry out in pain. Now, I walk at a fairly good pace and can even carry on a conversation with a friend as we hoof it on the walking path.

While I used to be appalled at the idea of any type of exercise, I now begin looking forward to my evening walk almost from the time I wake each morning. As my workday winds down, my heart beats a little faster with the thought that I will soon be donning my tennies and hitting the trail. I have to watch my speed as I drive each evening, because I almost can't wait to get home and get moving.

I've known for several months that walking is good for my health ... I've lost weight, my blood sugar levels have dropped drastically, and my muscles are stronger than they have been in many years. But it's only been in recent weeks that I have come to understand that the spiritual and mental benefits I receive while I'm walking far surpass the health benefits. It's simple really, walking is quite good for my soul.

When I walk alone, I listen to worship music on my iPod. Some evenings, like tonight, I find myself pretty much alone on the trail. I sing out loud as I walk on those "alone" evenings, and sometimes I raise my hands in praise and honor to my Lord. At times, I turn off the music and spend time in prayer, just me and my Lord. Some evenings, I am joined by one friend or another on my walk, and those times are spent in conversation ... sometimes laughing and simply chatting, other times discussing much deeper subjects and even shedding a tear from time to time. Often, those "friend" walks end in times of prayer when we return to my house, prayer times that have drawn me closer to God and closer to my friends.

As I finished my walk this evening, I had one of those God moments ... a moment when He teaches me something when I least expect it. As I gazed down at J.R. moving his little wiener dog legs as fast as He could to match my step, I realized that my walk of faith is much like my nightly walks on the trail. It takes dedication to stay in step with my Lord. It takes faith to walk with Him when the going in life gets tough. It takes trust to allow Him to lead my life and choose my path. It takes patience to wait on Him to teach me what He wants me to learn.

I want to stay in step with You, Lord, to walk at Your pace, to follow Your will, to be the woman You desire for me to be. I want to walk with You, Lord ... this night and every night.

Friendship Unexpected

A couple of evenings ago while I was walking with a friend, she made the comment that I have a lot of friends ... a wide circle of people who are part of my life. I've thought about that a bit, and I've come to the conclusion that I have been richly blessed when it comes to friends ... good friends ... with whom I share life. Those friends are each unique, and each one owns a special piece of my heart.

There have been many times in my life when I couldn't have made it through without the faithful support and encouragement of my friends. There have been many fun and hilarious times when my joy wouldn't have been complete without the laughter and happy spirits of my friends. Life's experiences and circumstances, both in times of sorrow and times of joy, are meant to be shared between the hearts and minds of good friends.

It amazes me how God always knows just what each of us needs ... He knows before we even have the words to express that need ... and He sends someone to come alongside us, often without us even asking. God knows when I will go through a rough spot ... He knows when I will wander in the desert for a time ... He knows when I will struggle with some heavy burdens. He knows when He needs to send a friend to encourage me, to love me no matter what, to constantly and carefully point me to the arms of Jesus.

Over the last few months, I've been stumbling through some intense storms in my life. My walk of faith has been rocky and unsteady. At times, much like my little dog J.R. when it thunders, I've found myself shaking, cowering and trying to hide myself away from other people and from my God. And yet, God in His infinite wisdom and mercy and grace sent an unexpected friend right into the middle of my pain ... a friend whose faith is strong, determined and deep, a friend who knows and appreciates the power of prayer, a friend who directs me to God's Word to find the answers I seek.

Yep ... it amazes me how God always knows just what I need. And it amazes me even more when He orchestrates and causes His plan to come to fruition ... in His timing, according to His will, for His purpose. He truly is an awesome God.

Being Broken

My whole life, I've been a fixer. I've always been of the mindset that if I worked hard or put forth a strong enough effort, there wasn't a problem or a life event that I couldn't handle on my own.

This part of my makeup has some positive aspects ... I am dedicated and hardworking; I am a good problem-solver; and I have a strong desire for those I love to be happy. The less than positive side of this trait makes me tend to be unwilling to ask for help when I truly need it, and it makes me prideful and arrogant at times.

There have been several times in my life when God has gone out of His way to get my attention, when there were so many "God things" happening around me that it was eventually impossible for me to ignore Him or run from Him any longer. The first time God stopped me in my tracks was a little over 10 years ago when I finally recognized my state apart from Him, acknowledged my sin and entered into a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. And throughout those 10 years, as much as I hate to admit it, there have been instances when God has used some drastic measures to drive me to my knees and draw me back to Him. And through each of those circumstances, God has humbled me, grown me and loved me beyond measure.

I don't pretend to understand why there are valleys and deserts in life ... I don't pretend to understand why I feel the need to try to do things my own way at times ... I don't pretend to understand why sometimes I wander away from the One who loves me most. I do, however, understand that when I finally fall to my knees and admit that I'm ready to be broken, He is already there ... waiting for me to come home ... home where I belong.