Isaac

I've gone back and forth about how to share this portion of the journey with you. Do I tell you all the fun story parts and then go back and fill in the spiritual parts? I thought it might be easier for you to follow that way, but the two are so intertwined that I'm not sure separating them would give clarity...nor would it do the journey justice. So, I'll just start telling, and if it gets too long, I'll stop and pick up again tomorrow.

One full week after Valentine's Day, I sat in my seat in Sunday School class with an attitude problem. A spiritual attitude problem. The season of drought I'd been plodding through had made my heart calloused toward any sort of effort in learning. One of the assignments in our workbook had been to rewrite the 23rd Psalm from our own vantage point. Personalize it. I'm not proud of this, but I snubbed my nose at that assignment. Our minister happened to be teaching our class for a few weeks, and during our discussion, he pulled a folded piece of paper from his suit pocket and asked if he could read the words his ten-year-old daughter had penned in response to the assignment.

That night, I wrote in my journal, My mind is full today. I’m so convicted about my complacency. When Jesse read Elizabeth’s take on Psalm 23…my heart was both blessed and saddened. Her purity and joy toward You remind me so much of what I used to be. And I wondered why I couldn’t take the time out of my day to ponder what Psalm 23 means for me.
I didn't write it in my journal, but it hit me that a full week had passed since "the email," and I'd not heard a word. I shrugged and determined that was my answer. I'd asked God to prevent him from pursuing me if it was not of Him, so the silence must be the answer.

Just a few minutes later, I found a little something in my inbox.

From Isaac.

(Side note: Isaac is not his real name. For the time being, I am choosing to keep his identity completely private. I won't be sharing a lot of personal details about him, but you do need to know that I prayed about what to name him on the blog, and this was the name God kept bringing back to my mind. And later, there's even a cool story about that.)

Oh yes. Isaac. The one who just moments earlier, I'd given up ever hearing from...that Isaac. Of course I was elated to hear from him, but I didn't want to appear desperate, so I turned aside from the email and turned my attention toward my journal again.

Last fall, I had the opportunity to hear Angela Thomas speak at a women's conference, and in the weeks that followed, I'd been doing her study Do You Think I'm Beautiful? with a friend of mine. We were almost finished working through it, and I read some in it that night.

I journaled this quote from the book: “In case you have missed it, there is a battle going on. The battle is for your soul. And if your soul belongs to God, Satan will go after your heart and your mind and your passion.” And that’s what scares me to death…I’m scared Satan is about to unload. And boy was he EVER.

Before I went to sleep, I read a passage from Streams, which said, “Have you prayed and prayed and prayed and waited and waited and still you see no evidence of an answer? Are you tired of seeing no movement? Are you at the point of giving up? Then perhaps you have not waited in the right way, which removes you from the right place – the place where the Lord can meet you…His purpose in waiting is to receive more glory through it.” (C.H.P.) Jesus, this is me! This is so me!

But He already knew that. And He already had a place picked out where He could meet with me. A place called a desert. But I knew nothing of a desert in that moment.

I have to tell you, the fact that Isaac had taken the first step in pursuing me made me nothing short of ridiculously giddy. The next day, he emailed...and a respectable 59 minutes later, I sent a response. I read it no less than a dozen times before screaming and hitting “send” – and wondered what in the world he would think of a crazy girl who talked to him as though they were already best friends. And yet – what did I have to lose? I could hardly wait for the next day – to hear from him again…hopefully! And yet when I crawled online later that night, he'd already written back.

I couldn't bear to ignore such a sweet email, so I wrote back on the spot.

And that night, after the emailing frenzy subsided, I confided in my journal, Isaac is funny. He is a good guy. But God. Please, please, please direct me. I don’t want to cause hurt. I do want to delight in You. I want to bring joy.
**Side note. The reference to "delighting in God" came from Psalm 37:4, which we'd studied in Sunday School a few weeks earlier. (It says, "Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart.) One of the ladies in our class admitted she struggled with that verse, because she always felt like she was treating God like the genie in Aladdin, and she knew that wasn't what the verse meant. And I'd been sort-of-praying for God to teach me to delight in HIM and to trust Him to bring the desires of my heart.**
After I wrote that, I opened Streams and wrote, Streams talks about faith again… "The greatest problem with most of us is, after asking Him to do it, we do not believe it is done. Instead, we keep trying to help Him, get others to help Him, and anxiously wait to see how He is going to work. Faith adds its amen to God’s yes and then takes its hands off, leaving God to finish His work.” (from Days of Heaven Upon Earth). And what does it quote? Psalm 37:5 – “Commit your way to the Lord; trust in him, and he will do this.”

Jesus. Show me.

The Stirring

If you came to see news not pertaining to my recent soul-desert journey, you can scroll down one post and find some random news. But if you're here to read the next part of the journey, pull up a chair! I'm just about to start!

In the week that followed Valentine's Day, I did not hear a peep from Mr. Mysterious. But even though that area of life was seemingly dormant, my prayer life was stirring. God packed so much into that one week, and I didn't even see it for what it was.

This is the thing I love about journaling my prayers. I write what I sense in front of my soul, even if I don't understand it at the time. I love being able to read back over them later and with that perspective of distance...I can begin to piece together how God was working the whole time.

Though I'd left the outcome of the love pursuit in the Lord's hands, I did offer up one more prayer concerning it early that week: I feel I need to ask You. Show me. And please, God, if this is NOT what You want for me, protect me from it. Don’t even let him pursue me.

That particular week was also the beginning of the Lenten season. Some of you may remember that my "fast" this year was unusual at best. I had absolutely no intentions of even participating, actually . Lent, for me, had become somewhat of a God-induced diet. Some years I’d given up desserts…full meals…snacks…always with the hope of a slimmer waist for the debut of the Easter dress. I was fairly certain this was not the purpose of Lent, so I declared it better to not participate than to participate with impure, non-spiritual motives.

But that night, as I hopped in the car to drive to the midweek service at church, I found that after less than a dozen blocks, I was disinterested in the music that blared from my CD. I’m typically hard-core about driving with music cranked to ridiculous decibels, so that surprised me. And it was that night I heard the first whisper from the Lord.

Give up music for Lent. I literally turned off the music as if to somehow hear Him better. There it was again. Give up music for Lent. Spend this driving time with Me instead. I flipped the CD back on and set the music to the start of the Hallelujah Chorus. Then I pushed the power off and thought ahead to forty silent days. The Hallelujah Chorus would be in order to celebrate the endurance of that.

I truly had no idea that those forty days of silent drive time were, in fact, boot camp for hearing the Voice of the Lord.

The same night, I crawled into bed and turned to the day's reading in Streams in the Desert. It quoted A. B. Simpson: “As faith continues to speak, God continues to give. He meets you today in the present and tests your faith. As long as you are waiting, hoping, or looking, you are not believing. You may have hope or an earnest desire, but that is not faith.” And after I read that, I wrote these words...not quite understanding what I was asking, yet somehow sensing something about it could be pivotal: Lord, I know my faith is not what it could be. Truth be told, I’m a bit scared to ask for help with it. What might it mean?

And Saturday night, a full week after the email arrived in my inbox, I wrote these words in the prayer journal: Please help me to delight in You.

The prayer book talks about the pray-ers of the Bible and says, “They established an identity for themselves – an identity God wanted them to establish.” Yes. Show me what You desire me to establish. (This came from the Disciple's Prayer Life workbook that we were using in our Sunday School class at the time.)

Streams has such appropriate words for the path… “It is possible for believers who are completely willing to trust the power of the Lord for their safekeeping and victory to lead a life of readily taking His promises exactly as they are and finding them to be true...It is possible to have our thoughts and the desires of our hearts purified in the deepest sense of the word…We will never be satisfied with anything less…” (H.C.G.Moule) Oh God. Please manifest this in me.

I can tell you right now, six months on the other side of that week, that each piece of it was completely directed by the hand of God Himself. He led me to pray that tiny prayer about pursuit or prevention of it. I would return to that prayer over and over in the weeks to come. He led me to consider the unorthodox choice of forty days of silent driving. He led me to pray earnestly about how to develop faith,identity, and a purified heart - and even the request to have all these things manifested in my heart.. And He was about to go to work answering all of it.

Sunday Smattering

That title is starting to sound like bugs on a windshield.

It wasn't supposed to.

Because I'm spending so much time blogging about the desert journey right now, I've lost out on the chance to tell you about life in "real time." So...I'm giving you a Sunday smattering of my week, but if you'll scroll down, you'll find the next installment of the desert story that posted earlier today.

* If you care to do so, please feel free to hop over to the book blog. I put up a new post over there regarding an article I wrote about the book for my church newsletter.

* Earlier this week, I started working in earnest on my home office. It's one of the rooms that has been "under construction" for literally months now, and it had gotten to the point that I didn't even like to go in because it was such a mess. My friend Angi showed up on my front porch with a stuffed crust pizza and a few hours to help me get started. Now that's a true friend!

* I have a mouse. AGAIN. It's actually dead. Has been for a day and a half. Just sittin' in its little trap under the sink waiting for someone much braver than I to show up and dispose of it. It better not have a family. That's all I'm sayin'.

* I had my first manicure in YEARS yesterday. I used to have my nails done all the time. Acrylics. Had to give them up for financial reasons a few years back but have decided it's time to afford a treat again. Not acrylics this time. It's a new "nail system." (I feel like freight.) More on that to come...but it was heavenly sitting across that table again. I'll tell you that!

And now...for the photo review....

Got another new baby in my world! This is baby Levi, and Friday was my first time ever to meet him. He liked me. I got some smiles. Or maybe gas got some smiles. But I'm going to go with ME. He has a ton of hair. He's a month old and already has styling options. He's cool.

My camera is on the fritz. Yeah. My new one. Ask me how happy I am about that. Anyway. I took this picture of Levi's sister, Esther, but um....well, it was blurry. Rather than pitch it, I edited it a little to try to make it look like I did it on purpose. If that failed, don't tell me. I'm still fragile from the dead mouse under my sink.

Saturday afternoon was a work event. A BBQ. After a 20 minute meltdown in my car in front of the house where said event was taking place, I finally garnered the courage to walk into it. I think all single people have their one "weird thing" they can't do. Mine are family events. And this was a "bring your family" party. One more reminder that I don't have one! But thankfully it was held outdoors and I could leave my sunglasses on to hide my watery eyes.

This is Greg. He works in my office and puts up with a lot from me. He gives pretty good advice, but don't tell him I said so. He is married to Angi who helped me with the home office cleaning fest.

This is Robyn. She's kind of shy. Okay just kidding. She is one of our secretaries (or whatever we're supposed to call them in this PC age) and keeps me from losing my mind over lost work.

And this is me. Proof that I went.

You've heard me talk about my friend Jonathan before. This isn't him. This is Katy. But Katy and I were at Jonathan's birthday party this evening. She's great. Love her!

HERE'S Jonathan! He needed some assistance breaking into the gift from his Mom. Fortunately Khi was right there..

Khi was also interested in this, but Jonathan wasn't so quick to give it up to him.

More help. This gift was a grilling basket for shrimp. Hmmm. Maybe I should invite him over to practice that little gift.

And this is what I got him. He loved the ones I got for my work party in January (to celebrate 10 years of work) so I got him his very own order of cupcakes. Told him not to eat them all in one night.

And now you're caught up!

The Name

This may seem a strange detail to include in the chronicle of the desert journey, but you'll eventually see why I chose to include it.

Right after I talked to the Lord about the whole love life situation, I launched into another matter that had been on my heart for several days.

I needed a name for God.

When I was a little girl, I attended a week of revival services at our church, and the evangelist fascinated me. He was a short man who walked with a cane and spoke in a very pointed tone. He had a deep furrowed crease between his eyebrows that never left - even when the words from his mouth seemed to be words of praise and happiness. (Truth? He petrified me, though I'm sure he was a very nice man.)

But the thing I remember most about him was he began every prayer with the phrase "Father God." I thought there must be something to that phrase, because people in the church seemed to respect his relationship with the Lord, so I tried my hand at beginning prayers with "Father God," but nothing seemed different, so I gave up.

Over the years, I've read books about the names of God, participated in Bible studies and Sunday School classes about the names of God - and that nagging desire to have a name for Him just seemed to grow deeper. And yet nothing really jumped out at me as a specific name just for me to use in conversation with Him.

More recently, I even noticed the names for the Lord being specific here in blogland. Tsofah always types G-d. Katie, over at Katie's Keepers, always writes out LORD - like you see in the Bible. As I read these blogs and as I grew increasingly frustrated with the drought that had settled over my spirit, I wanted...needed a name for Him.

So that night, I wrote in my journal, I want a name for You, God. As we have been studying prayer in Sunday School, and the names for You...I want a name that means something. Something between us that is unique. Show me.

Before I went to sleep, I read through Streams in the Desert, and I copied these words into my journal: "It is a good thing to 'rejoice in the Lord'...delight in it and God will reward your faith...His Holy Spirit will sustain you in your bold advance and fill your heart with gladness and praise."

Just as I'd never had my own "name" for God, I was also not a prolific praiser...and I knew I needed to work on that in my life. The words in Streams reminded me of a song (here's a shocker for you - it's a Gaither song!) I learned back in college. So I wrote in my journal, God, hear my song. Let it be incense rising to Your Throne. I don't think I understood - in fact, I know I didn't understand that the desire to have a name for the Lord was, in and of itself, incense rising to His Throne. But it was.

And God indeed went to work establishing a name for Himself in my life.

Then Came the E-mail

Kristin told me yesterday's post was a cliff-hanger. I told her my life has become akin to a television drama, and each day is a season finale.

Before I launch into the next part of the desert story, I'd like to pause and wish myself a happy 1100th post. I know. It only seems like two billion. Thanks for hanging in there with me.

I debated about sharing this part of the story at all. I thought about eliminating it and simply focusing on the lessons I learned in the desert and how I came to hear the voice of God the way I do...but I have elected to share snippets of this part with you for two reasons. First - I just love it. Secondly - you can't fully understand the desert without understanding the road that led me to it. And so...

...after I prayed for faith (which I've now determined is just like praying for patience), I snuggled down deep into the bed and fell asleep.

I awakened on Valentine's Day to find an email from a friend of mine...and the presence of the email was not as unusual as the content. In it, he asked if I would be willing to be set up.

People.

I've been set up several times before, and I can think of one word that typically encompasses such an adventure: disaster. Certainly not all of them have been horrible. But some...well...that's a whole separate post of giggles and eye-rolls.

This is why I was so surprised that my immediate thought upon reading his email was not a screeching NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!

He and I have been friends for quite a while and I like to think he knows me pretty well. I figured if he had someone in mind, Mr. Mysterious couldn't be so bad. Besides. He'd never tried to set me up before.

Rather than saying yes or no right away...I did a rather unbekahlike thing and constructed a list of questions:


1. Is he 90? Or any age qualifying for AARP?
2. If not, is he out of high school?
3. Does he own teeth - his own or any purchased plan?
4. Is he married?
5. Does he know about/love Jesus? (Which I realize should be on the list above things such as age and teeth possession). It's early. Cut me some slack.
6. Does he live in Antarctica?

There you have it. Bekah's six dimensions of compatibility.

You might laugh at some of those, but believe me - they're all on there with good reason.

I sent my email and launched into the busy day...finishing the lunch preparations, going to church, entertaining my guests through most of the afternoon, and as soon as the dishwasher was loaded with round one of the lunch dishes, I scurried to the computer to see if I had any answers to my questions. He had indeed replied and all answers were acceptable.

I'll admit...I wondered what God was up to. I'd loathed Valentine's Day for 30 years. It would be just like God to redeem that particular day by instituting real-life love on the day of love. Yes. That would be something He would do.

My heart felt an urge to try this. You must understand how out of character this is for me. I just don't do set-ups. I certainly am not a risk-taker as a general rule. But I couldn't ignore the push to try. So I sent an email offering my willingness to be set up if Mr. Mysterious would take the initiative. That was a rather recent desire I'd expressed to the Lord concerning relationships. I wanted to be pursued. So if He had someone for me...He was going to have to send him to me.

And that night, I wrote in my prayer journal, "Please don't let me enter something I shouldn't or run from something good." I had nothing to lose. If it didn't work, I'd be no worse off than I was right at that moment. And if it did work, I'd be glad I tried. So I went to sleep, comfortably leaving the outcome of the setup to God's orchestration.

Six Months Ago...

...was not Friday the 13th. But it was the beginning of a journey for me.

And I had no idea I was beginning. None whatsoever.

Six months ago was the day before Valentine's Day, which just happens to be a day that has been endured in a variety of moods by Yours Truly. Some years I've worn all black and drowned my sorrows in a Dairy Queen Blizzard. Some years I've worn red on purpose and looked for ways to show love to those around me. Some years I've stayed home and scrapbooked.

This year, since it fell on Sunday, I decided to celebrate the day by inviting some college students over for a home-cooked meal. I spent most of the 13th feverishly cleaning up my house and cooking far more food than four people could ever hope to eat in two days, let alone one meal.

And late that night, with a hard day of work behind me, I snuggled down into my fleece (yes, fleece!) sheets and spread out the array of journals and books that I consult each night before going to sleep.

One of the books I am reading on a daily basis this year is Streams in the Desert.

I read this book close to ten years ago - in the original version. The King James-esque version. I don't remember precisely what happened in my life that year, but I remember being very touched by the words as I worked through some difficult days.

A couple of years ago, I found a stash of updated version copies at a bookstore that was going out of business. I bought every copy they had and have been giving them for gifts along the way. I had an extra copy still lurking in the closet, so at the end of December, I decided I'd read Streams again this year. (Like that? I decided? God was so behind that decision!)

If you've not read Streams, let me tell you that (in addition to the Bible) it's the book you want to read during life's hard times. The original book was compiled by L.B. Cowman, who was the wife of missionary Charles Cowman. According to the foreword in the original version copy I own, the book was first published in 1925, and contained "thoughts, quotations, and spiritual inspiration which had helped to sustain Mrs. Charles Cowman during her years of missionary work in Japan and China - particularly the six years she nursed her husband while he was dying."

Jim Reimann edited the updated edition, and in his introduction, he shares that he was contacted by Zondervan to take on this project just two days after his son, Aaron, had surgery for a massive brain hemorrhage. He also shares in his foreword that as he worked on the update, he found the days' devotional thoughts to be providential for his situation.

Amen.

I typically hate devotional books. This is one of only two I've read in my entire life that I think has incredible substance. And while I realize the Bible is the only Divinely inspired book...I think this one was definitely Divinely ordained.

And that night...February 13, 2010...as I cracked open the book and scribbled down a quote from it into my journal, I had absolutely no idea how Divinely ordained the words were for my immediate future, nor how the reaction I half-heartedly wrote beside the quote would be taken whole-heartedly by the Lord Almighty.

"Difficulties are sent in order to reveal what God can do in answer to faith that prays and works." And beside it, I wrote, Jesus, give me the desire to have faith and to pray.

Truth be told, I had been living in a deep drought for weeks. Months, even. I wasn't sure I possessed an ounce of true faith, and my prayers really were as pitiful and half-thought as that hastily tossed out sentence shows.

But God heard. And the sentence I'd just quoted from the book was about to manifest itself mightily in my life.

An Invitation...

Y'all...I'm pretty nervous about this post. I've wrestled with it and prayed over it and doubted that it could remotely be a good idea...but I know the urge of God on my heart. And He's urging.

I've mentioned in recent weeks...recent months, even...about this desert road I've been chosen to walk. I have tried to find the appropriate balance between sharing my raw heart with you and not sharing too many details. Dozens of reasons backed that decision. And all those reasons still stand...

...except this God-ordained urge upon my heart has to override all my logical reasons.

And so, the time has come for me to break the silence on my journey. Not all the silence. Some things still have to remain private. But as for the rest...it's time to share.

So I invite you to join me over the next little bit. (I have no clue how long a "little bit" is.) Read along to see what God has been doing in this girl's life.

I admit, I don't know where these blog posts will go. I am not sure what God really intends me to share, so I'll be learning along with you. But this I do know. He has been so good and so faithful in these weeks of questioning, stretching, growing, failing, doubting, learning, praising, crying, and worshiping. And I hope you are able to see goodness and faithfulness in every post.

Power

We had some pretty icky weather here this morning.

I mean...I've seen worse. Worse was last week (or the week before...whenever...) when I was stuck in the bathroom at one in the morning with my odd assortment of "survive the tornado" things.

But today's storms took out power in our end of town...in every blessed building but mine. Yep. We got to work onward and forward. On a happy note, we also had the air conditioning. You take the good with the bad, right?

Anyway.

At lunch I went to the prayer chapel to pray. (Because that's a good thing to do in a prayer chapel. Sometimes I'm far too obvious for my own good.) The last few weeks, I've had to share my Wednesday prayer chapel time with two men who seemed to have settled upon the same time to pray. I didn't mind except the one time when I fell asleep praying and woke up as I fell off the pew. That was a little embarrassing.

Today, though, it was all mine. Those are my favorite days.

I slipped into "my" pew and launched right into quieting my heart and waiting before the Lord. When I felt settled, I started the prayer God has come to expect from me on a daily basis.

"God, I know what You've told me and You know I love the answer. But I just want to make sure I remain before You with an open heart. If I'm on the wrong path, please tell me. I want to know."

And as He does every day, He quieted my heart with the assurance that His answer stands and I'm doing the right thing in waiting for Him to heal and deliver.

I smiled and sat back in the pew, just enjoying His presence and an attitude of surrender.

Apparently I was fairly relaxed because the next thing I knew, a loud pop sounded and I nearly jumped over the altar.

Electricity came back on.

I hadn't even realized it wasn't working in the chapel. It's such a tiny place and it's very dimly lit. The time of day when I go, the place is lit from the daylight rushing through the stained glass, so I hadn't noticed the lights were off. I did think it was warmer than usual in there, but it wasn't stifling, so it didn't occur to me that the air wasn't running.

I was so glad those men were absent today because I just sat there in my pew and giggled.

How like God to restore power in the middle of the prayer of surrender.

A Mighty Fortress

I think I've written about this before, but...well...it's my blog. I can do it again if I want, right?
Today has been one of those Wow, God sort of days. It started at 6 in the morning when the alarm went off and continued right on through this evening. I was talking to a friend on the phone earlier and she said "Bekah, if there are ever moments when you doubt God's involvement in this part of your life, you sure don't have to look very far to see Him working." She's so right. Now why can't I remember that on my own?
Anyway, I'm working on this whole attitude of praise and prayers of praise....and it made me want to listen to a good anthem just to boost the praise from my heart to His Throne. So of course, I went back to the trusty IWU Chorale rendition of A Mighty Fortress. Gets me every time. Enjoy!

It's the Little Things

This morning, I spent an extra long time in prayer.

In bed, in prayer.

In fact, I went so far as to ask God if it would be okay if I just stayed home and prayed all day. He reminded me that bills were mailed out at work on Friday and the phones would ring incessantly today. I should report for duty.

I scurried about, getting ready as quickly as I could, but I left the house too late for comfort. I knew I'd be kissing the 8:00 hour when I got to work. I hate to run it that close.

As I flew out the door (yes, literally flew), something caught my attention over by the fence:


A single rose blooming on the sorely neglected bush.

I love roses. But I know little about rose bushes. This one was here when I moved in and because it self-maintains (I have no idea how), it blooms every year. It's gorgeous when it's loaded down with blooms, but it always stops blooming at the end of May. Always. And this year was no exception.

Why, then, was there this single bloom today...just over two months later?

You can think whatever you want. I believe my Abba sent it to me to remind me that His timing dictates when life and beauty blossom. Even when there's no other explanation.

Especially when there's no other explanation.

(And yes, I did stop to take the picture on the spot. I didn't care if I was late to work. If He took the time to send me a rose, I wasn't going to walk right past it without appreciating it.)

Quotes and Such

My journal, these days, contains nearly as many quotes from others as it does thoughts from my own mind. I chronicle them partly because I want to remember how they helped me along this path I walk, and partly because I find them to be far more eloquent than my own words. My words are, at best, bumbling and littered with stuttering. It’s one thing to stutter out loud. To incorporate it into the written word is a whole different level of incoherence.

I told you last week I’ve been reading Angie Smith’s book, I Will Carry You. I’ve almost finished it; It’s littered with underlined phrases – most of which were copied into my journal. These two, that I want to share with you today, are words Henri Nouwen wrote, and Angie quoted.

“Our choice, then, often revolves around not what has happened or what will happen to us, but how we will relate to life’s turns and circumstances. Put another way: ‘Will I relate to my life resentfully or gratefully?’”

“Our glory is hidden in our pain, if we allow God to bring the gift of Himself into our experience of it. If we turn to God, not rebelling against our hurt, we let God transform it with greater good. We let others join in and discover it with us.”

These are the things I would write in the journal if I had my own eloquence. Since I don’t, I’m thankful for what others can contribute so I can, in turn, consider.

To not rebel against pain is, I would say, unnatural. Pain is…well, uncomfortable, at best. And yet it’s also an incredible marker of growth . To be able to look back at the beginning of the pain and see how it frightened, consumed, and overwhelmed…and then to look at this day and see change is comforting. To see even a sliver of improvement…is a blessing.

The key word (for me) in that second quote is “let.” Let God transform the experience.
Letting God do His work…means being still…and knowing He is God. And being still means I might feel more pain. But if letting Him work means He can transform and bring the greater good, how can I want anything else?

I'm Entertaining, if Nothing Else

What you're about to read is certainly not my proudest moment.

But everyone needs a laugh on Friday, right?

Please enjoy one at my expense.

Have I mentioned I'm not coordinated?

Have I mentioned I hate mowing?

Have I mentioned I pray a lot these days?

Uncoordinated people who are deep in prayer should not mow.
A couple of years ago, I got a "new" mower. Dad found it for me used at some mower shops. (I didn't even know mower shops existed.) I loved that little thing. It's fast and it bags the clippings. Bless it.

Did I mention it's fast?

So last night...as I mowed...the following event took place.

As near as I can figure out - I did not let go of the self propeller bar on the mower as I approached the lilac tree at the end of my mowing. I don't recall not letting go of it, but then I kind of "mow by heart" and don't really think about what I'm doing.

But I have concluded this is what happened, because the mower was dragging me and that's the only explanation I have.

Three things nearly happened, I have no idea how none of them were successful and if the neighbors were watching I hope they never mention it.

I was on my next to the last swipe...and the mower started dragging me into the tree. I had one little branch (like a stick branch) going up my nose, and I do remember being acutely aware that if it kept going it would eventually reach my brain and that might not be a good thing. I had another one headed for my eye, which was unprotected because I'd taken off my sunglasses for that last part so I could see the yard better as it got darker. And because my reflexes were aware that I had sticks looking for my eyes and nose, my head started going back and I was remember thinking- I don't think it goes back much farther before it snaps!

Fortunately the mower hit the tree and that must have made me drop the bar. So there I was, narrowly dodging a stick in my eye, pulling a stick out of my nose, and thinking "PLEASE LET THE NEIGHBORS BE BUSY!!"

Next week I'll be selling tickets for "yard work with Bekah." Let me know if you want a front row seat.

A Little Book News...

Just wanted to interrupt my blog for a second to say that I have some book updates!

This part isn't new, but in case you didn't know/forgot/blocked it out - I created a blog just for my book, and the link is over to the left side of this blog.

I'm excited because people have been receiving the orders they placed and some are reading now rather than in December. This writer loves that! I've gotten some feedback already and I'm pretty excited about it! I did a post sharing some pieces of that, and the post before it shows a little synopsis of the journey...with pictures, of course!

Last month, my church ran an article about the book in the newsletter, which I'll probably end up posting on the book blog here soon...and just yesterday the Greentown Grapevine (from my hometown) ran an article about it too. So I'm excited to share with a little broader audience that way!

Anyway, if you'd like the latest news on the book at any time - just hop over to that blog. It also has my email address listed if you'd like a copy of your own!

No More Dark and Stormy Nights Please

I got my fill of "tornadic activity," as the Weather Channel calls it, when such an event took out my sister's house and the rest of Greensburg, Kansas, back in 2007.

But whether I've had my fill or not, they continue to take place. Unfortunately, in recent weeks, I've become pretty neglectful about checking ahead on the weather. I check ahead as far as an hour if I go for a walk. Beyond that, I'm a poor planner.

When I went to bed last night, we were having the worst lightning storm I think I've ever seen. I muted the TV but kept it on just so the room would stay bright enough to block out the flashes outside...and I hoped that would let me sleep.

And then I got a text from Phats, telling me we were under a warning. (This was an impressive move from him, considering he'd already lost power at his house and was yet able to have more information than I had with the TV on.) I probably shouldn't have just admitted that out loud.

I really was not all that interested in responding to such a warning. I was sleepy and wanted to stay in bed. But when his warning was followed up with the work text warning, I figured I should at least make a concerted effort.

Please keep in mind, I do not have a safe room in my house. So if the house goes, I'm likely to go with it. But I did want it to at least appear I'd tried to put up a fight. I grabbed an armload of my most treasured possessions and headed to the bathroom, the must unsafe safe spot in the house.

I opened the blinds so I wouldn't have to stand next to the window, because I did recall that would be a bad move. I kept one eye on the sky (which was light enough to see a tornado if one showed up) and one eye on the weather map on my laptop (which was of little help).

After a few moments and more text updates from Phats, I looked around the bathroom at the sorry mess of stuff I'd brought with me.

People.

It's not like I don't know. It's not like I didn't get a lesson on this stuff in 2007. It's not like I didn't hear everything they should and should not have taken to the basement with them. I really had no excuse.

But should my house have gone down...and should I have survived the unsafe bathroom, here's what I would have had:

* My purse - which was actually a brilliant move, because I'd have money and my ID and all those things. But I must be honest. I only took the purse because it had the camera in it. And I'm not going down without the camera.

* My laptop - which I was fully aware would do me no good if the internet went down. But I'd still have Word. I could write. And really, as long as I can write and take pictures, I'm pretty happy.

* Four journals - because I'm mid-project and if I lose those guys, I lose the whole project. And quite frankly, that would push me over the edge.

Um, that's it.

Things I did not have:

* a flashlight
* water
* keys - you know, in case the car lived
* clothing that was appropriate for TV or newspaper (because I know those people show up and what you see is what you get!)
* extra clothing - in case the Tide Loads of Hope truck didn't get there for a while
* my Bible - I was duly mortified about that and chalked its absence up to pure sleepiness
* shoes - for REAL Rebekah? You're gonna walk barefoot after a tornado?

At last...you know...about 2 in the morning...it was safe to go back to bed. I have duly learned my lesson. Pack a bag, Bekah. Pack a bag.

But really, I'd rather just order a pleasant night instead of a dark and stormy one.

Well, I Did Ask for "A Word"

A while ago, I shared a goose-bump story about my friend Sue Ann and how God used her one day to answer my desperate plea for "a word" from Him.

Today at work, I needed "a word" again. Just something. Didn't care what. Didn't care the source. Just needed something.

Well, compliments of the time of year we're enduring at work, things kicked into crazy mode, I became more than a little distracted, and completely forgot I'd even asked! The night continued in a fashion of much crowding my heart and mind.

I sat down just now to check my email and blog before bedtime, and I found this post on Tsofah's new blog.

First of all, Tsofah, thank you for your words of encouragement! They were perfectly timed. Secondly, thank you for the song. I've never heard that one before, but I find it to be little coincidence that last night I started reading Stormie Omartian's book on the power of praising in prayer.

Little coincidence.

And for reasons I can't even put into words, I also find it little coincidence that the line of the song that displayed on your blog beneath the "play" icon was this: You just hold on to what I've told you.

Word heard.

Thank You, Abba.

The Other Side of the Stone

This week I started reading Angie Smith’s book I Will Carry You. Angie, if you don’t know, is the wife of Todd Smith, who sings in Selah. Two years ago, Todd and Angie’s fourth daughter was born with conditions that made her “incompatible with life.” She lived just a couple of hours, but her life has had quite an impact, first through Angie’s blog and now through her book.

I’ve read Angie’s blog almost since Audrey’s birth and love the way she writes. She finds things in Scripture that I wish I’d thought to see. In fact, her book talks not only about Audrey’s story, but the things she learned about grief and joy as she studied the death and resurrection of Lazarus. Fascinating…the things she found in that passage.

Reading and underlining…reading and underlining…I’ve found much to ponder even though I’ve never lost a child of my own. Pain is still pain – no matter the source. I find Angie’s words to be honest and comforting, and I learn better how to move ahead in my own days of hurt by seeing how she handled hers.

I wanted to share with you this one part that intrigued me so. She mentions the verse, “Jesus wept.” We all know that verse. We learned it as kids when we forgot we were supposed to memorize a verse for Sunday School and two words seemed more manageable than fifty.
But look at Angie’s words:

“He isn’t crying because the situation is hopeless, but because He is an empathetic God.

He knows that in a few moments Lazarus will walk out of the tomb.

He also knows they can’t see that hope.

And neither can we.”

Jesus saw on the other side of the stone. He saw the life and hope waiting to walk forth. All Mary and Martha could see was a rock and the thought of decay on the other side.

I just loved that. Loved it.

Ten years ago today, I stood in a room and witnessed the miracle of childbirth for the first time. Exactly six months later, that baby girl passed from here to Heaven with no warning. We cried because we missed her. And I believe that He cried with us because He knew a hope we couldn’t see.

And in these past ten years, I’ve had a hundred other hurts. Some deep, some manageable. But every time a tear fell over any of them, He saw. And He cared.

Tonight I took a walk, and God had much to say to me during that stroll. I started wishing I’d brought my journal so I could write some of it – all of it – down. But this one part needed no journal to be remembered. As God gave me my assignment, tears came to my eyes. Not tears of despair. Just tears of being overwhelmed that He would still speak when I’m such a poor listener most of the time. Tears of wondering if I have the stamina for this next piece of the journey.

Tears of hope that He’s about to kick that stone out of the way entirely and call forth wholeness.

And in that moment, I knew He wept too. I knew He had that kind of compassion on my heart, even after all these many months of success and failure. He still wept. And in that, He gently prodded me to trust His heart. After all…it can see to the other side of the stone.

One Year

Today was a very special and sentimental day for me.


One year ago today...right about this time, in fact, I was pacing a hospital room, praying with hands outstretched...for strength. For help. For mercy.


Not for me.


For my friend, who was laboring intensely to bring a sweet baby into the world. Sweet baby James.



He was much smaller then. (She was grateful for that.) Today he celebrated a year on this earth.

He was pretty happy about it.

Being a year old is a lot more fun than being born. I remember when he was born. Much screaming. Much shivering in the little warmer. Much nakedness while awaiting his first bath. Today he had a lot more fun. Much food. Much fun opening presents. And of course....well...I don't think he actually had more pictures taken today than that day. After all, I was on the job the moment he came into the world. I didn't miss much in those first moments.

James has an older brother. He's a good brother. Most of the time anyway. Sometimes it's exhausting being the older brother.

He has an older sister, too. She's a good helper.

All good one-year-old children love their cake. James loved his exceedingly....

His Aunt Bekah loves him exceedingly as well. Even when he can't stop mutilating cake long enough to appreciate it.

When you can't beat em, join em.

That is one well loved cake. His dad said it looked like it went through a chipper.

Happy birthday, baby James! You are loved. Thank you for letting me be part of your world.

Iron Sharpens Iron

I haven't posted for a couple of days...because my heart has been too overwhelmed to be coherent. One day...

...one day I shall be able to tell you, dear Bits readers.

Tonight I want to tell you about a good friend. I would tell you her name, but I didn't ask her if I could tell this story on her. So rather than not tell the story...I just won't tell you who she is. Then if she wants to fess up - it's all hers.

My collection of friends is eclectic. I have loud friends and quiet ones. Crazy friends and subdued ones. Logical friends and whimsical ones. Friends passionate for the Lord and those who haven't admitted to any relationship with Him whatsoever. Working friends and those who stay at home. Friends blessed with health and prosperity and those who struggle with either or both. And from the mix of them, God teaches me all sorts of lessons on a regular basis.

This friend is not a Bekah. We have many good things in common, making a great foundation for friendship. But we have just as many areas where we are as opposite as can be. And I'm thankful. She sharpens me. She's one of the few people - ever - of my life who can tell it to me like it is and get away with it. And generally she doesn't even make me cry in those moments. It's a God thing.

In the past weeks, in this desert I've been in, she's been good to "counsel" me via instant messenger. And in the most recent weeks, when she must have sensed I was a little stronger in spirit, she began to sharpen me. Let me just give you an example of said sharpening.

While telling me that the forthcoming sentence was completely offered in love, she typed out, "I'd like to come over there and shake you right now." Not really eager to experience Shaken Bekah Syndrome, I said, "Why??" She responded, "You are the only person I've ever known who prays for something, gets it, and then questions it."

It was deserved. And no one else would have said to me. I'm glad she did.

Today I was happily minding my own business, when she sent a message saying she thought she should write a book about her experiences with me in these desert weeks. She said, "What do you think of the title Dragging a Camel Through the Desert?"

I was mid-drink-of-water when I read that and very nearly baptized my monitor.

I told her just this morning I had an idea for writing my own book about the desert, but I had no such inspirational title. She continued, "You could call yours Two Trails in the Sand: My Feet-Dragging Journey through the Desert."

My response: "Yeah, that one divinely inspired person wrote Footprints in the Sand and I get to write Two Trails in the Sand."

Her answer was just the sharpening I needed today: You should have walked then.

Random Notes from the Journey

Skyepuppy rescued my day with her comment on my last post. This has been a tough one. (Day, not post.)
First of all...why didn't I think to post the music for the song yesterday? Probably because I was far too distracted for my own good when I posted...so here you go:

This journey I'm on is hard to share sometimes because I'm still on it. I am so excited about what God is doing and how He is speaking and orchestrating and someday I know He will point to all the right words to share with you, so you can see it too. But right now I'm so confused that I'm not sure how to best verbalize what I'm learning. And the last thing I want to do is drag you down a path of confusion with me.
Having said that....some things are too God to keep quiet, so I shall share with you a few.
* This actually happened Saturday, but I loved it. That night, the last thing I wrote in my journal before I went to bed was an excerpt from Streams in the Desert. This is not unusual, as I almost daily write down the things I learn from Streams. That day, the reading closed with this quote from St. Augustine: "Faith is believing what we do not see and the reward for this kind of faith is to see what we believe." After that, I simply wrote, Abba. Help. And then I closed the journal.
I wasn't quite sleepy yet, so I opened up Angie Smith's book I Will Carry You, which had just arrived on my porch that day. I read the first chapter and then decided I was sleepy. I glanced at the first page of chapter two before closing the book and scanned over the quote that lined the top of the page. "Faith is believing what we do not see and the reward for this kind of faith is to see what we believe."
I think Abba made His point.
* Do y'all know my Dad has a radio program? I'm not sure I've ever mentioned that on here before. Anyway. He does. Around here, it plays at 8:30 on Sunday morning and I've learned I should listen because I never know when he might talk about me. And if he's going to say something, I need to know it. That morning I was scrambling about and didn't really have time to stop and fish for the station on my radio. But God said, "You'll wish you'd taken the time..."
So I fished - and found it more quickly than normal. The song that began almost immediately is called In the Valley He Restoreth My Soul. Check out some of these words: When I'm low in spirit, I cry Lord, lift me up. I want to go higher with Thee. But nothing grows high on a mountain, so He picked out a valley for me. And He leads me beside still waters. Somewhere in the valley below. And He draws me aside to be tested and tried. In the valley He restoreth my soul.
(Did I mention this program plays older songs?) Even so - I love that song and Mom had actually mentioned it a time or two recently. I was so glad he played it.
FOLLOWED BY
Another song that I'd been singing to myself over and over. It's called I'll Talk to My Father for You and the chorus says, I'll talk to the Father for you, and if I know my Father, here's what He'll do...He'll lay at your feet all the things you pursue. It's no bother for my Father...He'll do it for you.
FOLLOWED BY
Another golden oldie called My Faith Still Holds. The chorus says My faith still holds onto the Christ of Calvary. Oh blessed Rock of Ages cleft for me. I gladly place my trust in things I cannot see. My faith still holds onto the Christ of Calvary.
Needless to say, I was glad I took the time to find the station....
* This is the last one I'll share today because this turned long on me! This morning's six a.m. serenade featured the music of Chris Tomlin...specifically his song "Our God." Check that one out if you've not heard it.
The chorus says: Our God is greater, our God is stronger, God You are higher than any other. Our God is healer, awesome in power, Our God! Our God!
Sprawled out in bed with nasty bedhead and probably drooling or something else equally unattractive, God flat out dealt with me. Bekah. You are not living as though I'm greater, stronger, and higher. You are focusing on YOU and what YOU can see. I Am greater.
God has His best dealings with me at that hour because I'm simply too tired to fight back. And that's when I hear best.
So this time in between is still filled with lessons. Still filled with the draw to trust Abba.

The Hidden Place

God’s been busy this week. This girl has had many questions and He’s been terribly patient to answer them…and re-answer them…and sometimes answer them a third time.
Earlier this week, during a time of prayer, God talked to me about the work He does on a person in the secret. In the hiding.

He reminded me that Moses was hidden as a baby, because God needed his life to be preserved for a later task. Joseph was hidden in prison, but even while he was there, God was building in him character traits he’d need later to be in a position of leadership. Even Esther was hidden among the women, but at the proper time, God brought her forward to speak on behalf of His people.

I’ll be honest. If I read the words “at the proper time” one more time, it’s entirely possible I’ll scream. It seems to be a common theme in the books I read…even the Scripture I study. I know I should embrace the words…love the promise contained within them. But I won’t pretend to be super-Bekah. I’m not at that place (yet, anyway).

Yesterday I spent part of the day judging the Campus Challenge competition at IWU. It’s a scholarship competition for Wesleyan students, and I was judging in the vocal category. (This is not a pre-cursor to a career on American Idol…I know, I know…you thought it would be.)

I might have known God would have the week orchestrated clear down to the songs the students chose to sing. It didn’t occur to me until I was in my judging seat, sipping on coffee and shaking my head.

One of the songs, which I’d never heard prior to yesterday, is by Francesca Battistelli. The song is called The Time in Between. Check out the words:

You were there when Your Father said, “Let there be light.”
You obeyed when He whispered, “Son, You have to leave tonight.”
To spend nine months in a mother’s womb, three days in a borrowed tomb.
But it’s the time in between that brings me to my knees.
Knowing You came for me and all that I can’t be.
I’m amazed…so amazed.
And I thank You for the time in between.

Don’t take much for this crazy world to rob me of my peace.
And the enemy of my soul says You’re holding out on me.
So I stand here lifting empty hands for You to fill me up again.

But it’s the time in between that I fall down on my knees.
Waiting on what You’ll bring and the things that I can’t see.
I know my song’s incomplete
Still I’ll sing in the time in between.

So many ways your love has saved the day
And I’m grateful for them all.
I’m living in the time in between. The hidden place. The secret place. And even though it’s hard to see what He’s doing…I don’t want to miss a moment of it.