I love watching life come back. The trees bud, birds sing. Fat squirrels bounce around twitching their tails. Maybe like us, they’re excited to get out in the sunshine and fresh air.

Did you know that Lent means spring? Makes sense. As we look forward to Easter, we focus on the way to new life. It’s not fun to think about the cross. But it’s good to remember.

Jesus’ place of torture and humiliation is where we find salvation, life, and victory. What seemed to end in death, didn’t. What seemed to be a loss, wasn’t.

Anything and anyone can be redeemed.

Salvation means deliverance, rescue, recovery, or escape. If we need to escape or be rescued from something ~ it must be pretty awful. And it is. It’s our sin nature.

We were born with this tendency toward rebellion. We’re also born with the desire to find purpose and connect with our Creator. We want to be good people and live good lives. Hence our inner struggle. 

When we try to change wrong thoughts and behavior,  sin is right there waiting to mess with us. We really are our own worst enemy.

So, we follow rules to keep us on track. While they may be good and help us set healthy boundaries, they can’t change our hearts. Without heart change, we go right back to doing or saying or thinking what we don’t want to do, say, or think. We stay stuck in a self-defeating cycle.

Life in our power, on our terms. It might feel like freedom. But, we’re human, so it’s really bondage. Sin is sneaky like that.

Pastor and author, Tony Evans says, “Rules without relationship equals rebellion.” 

Again, it feels free. But, it’s a slow kill from the inside-out. Our spirits starve. Something is still missing and we hang our heads.

How did I get here … again?

And shame slithers into that hollow, hurting place.

But, look up, my friend.

What seems a loss, isn’t. What seems to end in death, doesn’t. The cross, Jesus’ darkest hour, invites us into our brightest days. 

New life ~ true life ~ starts right now. In our heads and in our hearts. When we truly believe there’s a truer, freer way to live, we stop trying to clean up on our own. We decide we want an all-in relationship with Jesus. It’s that profound, yet this simple:

“If you openly declare that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For it is by believing in your heart that you are made right with God, and it is by openly declaring your faith that you are saved. Anyone who believes in him will never be put to shame.” ~ Romans 10:9-11

These aren’t magic words. But they do create a miracle in us. This wholehearted decision rescues us. Boom. Just like that. By faith alone, we trade death for life. We invite Jesus in to set things right between us and God and we stand before our Father as if we never sinned.

Forgiven. Now that’s freedom.

Sin is no longer the boss of us. Jesus is. The one who beat sin and shame and the grave.

So, all hunky-dory-happy ever after, right? Nope. While we have a new nature in Christ, the old one tries to hang on with its unhealthy habits and mindsets. Temptation comes ~ stinking like roadkill ~ but we see it for what it is: the road back to pain and humiliation and death.

But, thank you Jesus,  that’s not who we are anymore.

We resist, we pray, we rest in the finished work of Jesus.  

Sweet child of God, salvation is just the beginning. As we move forward in our faith, we find our divine design.

Rising to new life ~ our true life ~ we understand Easter, our greatest celebration ever.

 

☮🙏🏻💗

 

Image by Bess Hamiti from Pixabay

 

My three-year-old grandson, Alex, likes to help me open our window shades. I’ll spare you the cheesy song we sing as we ask the morning sun to “please shine down on me.”

Like most toddlers, Alex is full of questions. “Where’s the moon, Meema? Where’s the sun, Meema?” I assure him the sun and moon are there even when the clouds hide them.

I love how children believe us. By faith, these little people just trust.

For us, it’s often harder. To believe there’s light beyond clouds. And the darkness gets so darn heavy.

We feel it. We fight it. And it feels like we’re alone. But we’re not. We see it on faces. In grocery stores and in gas stations. In our neighborhoods and in our churches.

We are bombarded with news stories that stir up all kinds of anxiety. My pulse quickens just writing this. And I breathe deep.

So I limit my exposure to news  … which really isn’t new, is it?  They’re the same old stories of pain and chaos, simply recycled with new names and greater intensity.

I limit social media too. No person, no family, no dog, no life is that perfect. So why take the chance of falling into a comparison trap?

Despite what media tells us, there really is way more hope for humanity.

But, this morning is one of those mornings when my thoughts are caught in a rut. I just want to hide. Sure, it seems safe but if I linger here, darkness wins. My brain spirals and I tell it, “Nope. We aren’t doing this.”

I say this out loud and I don’t care who hears. I breathe a prayer and focus on what the cloud is hiding ~ all the good things.

My favorite coffee mug has four little sentences that help me focus. “It’s a new day. I am alive. I am loved. I am thankful.”

I start simple. “God, thank you for this mug of coffee, warming my hands.”  Gratitude sets my mind on the right track. “Thank you for my daughter-in-law who gave it to me.”

This isn’t just positive thinking, or denying hard things, or stuffing my emotions. It’s choosing to see what is also true.

The good.

When we see our blessings, bigger than our burdens, something beautiful happens. We rise above them where God is. Where there’s courage and clarity. Where there’s peace and new perspective. Where He speaks to the chaos in our minds and creates calm.

The powerful rhythm – of winter rolling into spring, spring to summer, and summer to fall –  reminds us that God’s in control. And there’s something bigger going on.

He is always doing something new in us and for us. And that something is always good. Even when we can’t see it. Even when it feels awful. Even when we don’t understand, we know we will be okay.

There’s mystery in this depth of faith. It takes a soul-deep trust that’s hard to explain. So, when I reassure my grandson that the sun and moon are there,  God whispers the same to you and me.

I’m still here.

It’s a new day. We are alive. We are loved. We are thankful.

❤☮

Are you glad to see 2018 in the rear-view mirror? Me too.

Hindsight really is 20/20. Though  we don’t need to revisit everything, it’s good to look back. But, before we question our history, it’s good to question ourselves.

Are we looking back to move forward? Or are we ruminating and wishing it was different? Are we asking questions so we can grow? Or are we looking for blame?

We want justice. We want answers. All of them. Now.

It’s human nature to ask “Why me?” or “Why did this happen?” But, they zap our energy and take us to the edge of crazy. We are angry and anxious because we don’t always find clear-cut answers. And sometimes we find answers we don’t like.

With all the suffering around us, it helps me to ask another tough question, “Why not me?” Why shouldn’t I have my share? If we accept blessing in our lives, we accept hardship. We learn how to live well when we learn how to suffer well.

Whether we’re looking back or we’re right smack in the middle of difficulty, the right questions aren’t always easy but they’re so freeing. We reclaim our peace and power and come out fighting.

That, my friend, is what got me through last year’s darkness with most of my body and brain cells intact. I finally started asking better, healthier questions. And I just. kept. asking.

Why me? Why is this happening?

“What can I learn?”

Through our toughest trials, God promises to grow our faith if we let him. This side of heaven, we may never know the “whys” of our circumstances. And that’s okay. When we let go of our need to know, we open up to the new. More peace, new wisdom, and deeper faith.

I know convention says it’s a bit late to contemplate a New Year’s resolution. But, God is not boxed up in tradition or cultural opinions. He’s on his own timeline. As are we.

It’s never too late to claim our comeback. And keep on claiming it. 

So, 2018, while we say good riddance, we thank you for what you teach us. Life’s hard lessons give us more empathy, humility, and endurance. We are less self-reliant, less fearful, and more faith-filled.

Oh, and thanks 2018, for giving us a bit more moxie. We don’t like how we got it but we’re not going back to who we were or how things used to be. We surrender to the something new that God is doing in us and for us. We are moving forward. We’re claiming our comeback.

A New Year’s Prayer

May God make your year a happy one!
Not by shielding you from all sorrows and pain,
But by strengthening you to bear it, as it comes;
Not by making your path easy,
But by making you sturdy to travel any path;
Not by taking hardships from you,
But by taking fear from your heart;
Not by granting you unbroken sunshine,
But by keeping your face bright, even in the shadows;
Not by making your life always pleasant,
But by showing you when people and their causes need you most,
and by making you anxious to be there to help.
God’s love, peace, hope and joy to you for the year ahead.

~Anonymous~

 

 

T Rex Photo: https://pixabay.com/users/aitoff-388338/

 

 

 

 

Eleven days ago, I read this at my mom’s memorial service. We know life is short. It’s a gift. Embrace it and the people in it.

Hug ’em while ya got ’em.

For Ramona Mae

Some of our best memories are connected to gardens. Outside or in the house, Mom could grow anything.

Born in the bedroom of a South Dakota farmhouse, some of her best memories were running the open fields with younger brothers and sisters. That was back in the day when it was okay to hit gophers over the head to keep them from ruining your crops.

Weather permitting; Mom was outside from morning to evening. She loved to plant and tend and grow. We picked radishes, tomatoes, cucumbers, and green peppers. With the sunshine still in them, we made sandwiches with mayo, salt, and pepper.

We have memories of family picnics at the Palisades Park and camping on the Mississippi river. The beach camping stopped after child number six was born.

Mom loved putzing around woods and along the riverbanks. She found treasures in earth, and plants, and trees. We collected scads of rocks, drift wood, feathers,  lotus pods, cool weeds, pine cones … anything that spoke to her soul … and as much as we could carry.

She took home rocks and fireweed on the plane from Alaska. And rocks and cacti on the plane from Texas. And more rocks from her pilgrimage to Bosnia. Many of Mom’s treasures are now in our homes and flower gardens. And even in the homes of her grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

Mom could also sew anything. She made shirts, quilts, and dresses for Easter and Proms and weddings. And she loved denim. She not only wore it, she used it to sew hats, purses, patchwork overalls, and quilts for her grandsons.

Mom painted some remarkable oil paintings and did all sorts of crafts. Recently, we found her bottle cutter from the early 1970’s. She used it to make candleholders out of brown beer bottles. We gave them to our friends at birthday parties. Mom—like most strong women who lived through the Great Depression and World War II—saw a second or third use for almost everything.

In her last months, Mom didn’t always remember our names right away, but she knew we belonged to her. She’d get that sly smile and say, “They all start looking the same after a while.” We told her if we had six kids, we’d get them mixed up too. “It’s okay, Momma. It’s our turn to take care of you.”

When asked how she was doing, sometimes she’d say what her momma said, “I’m still kickin’. Just not as high.” We enjoyed seeing her feisty side. We teased her for ordering chocolate ice cream for breakfast. That sparked a mischievous grin.

Momma glowed when people complimented her shiny-silver, braided hair or her painted fingernails. They weren’t chipped and stained from the soil anymore, but she liked them painted fiery red by the CNAs at the nursing home.

Our dad’s favorite flowers were red geraniums. They bloomed outside Mom’s window in a raised bed next to her bird feeders. Though Dad’s been gone 26 years, Mom’s eyes still lit up when she saw red geraniums. September 28^th would have been their 70^th wedding anniversary.

We’ve been saying goodbye for a while now. We are tired and the days are difficult. But, as we continue to let go in bits and pieces, we hold on to what Mom passed on to us.

We find peace in the earth and plants and trees. In the simplest things, we see her legacy. Fresh tomatoes, paintings on drift wood, recipes for soup and pickles. We find memories in rocks and lotus pods and scraps of denim.

We find treasure in family, fresh air, and sunshine. And we are grateful.

Thank you, Momma. See ya later.

Ramona Mae (Johnson) Bradshaw

11/3/28 ~ 9/29/18