Monday, April 12, 2010

No Regrets

My daughter and my niece. Both due in June.

I'm 61 years old. And almost a half.

You'd think I'd be over it by now.

I am. Mostly.

But sometimes I still sense the faintest twinge of jealousy.

A ripple of regret.

A sliver of sadness.

A pensive moment of wonder.

What would it have been like to see my belly ripple?

To feel an inward wave of movement?

A kick of life?

And yes. Even the nausea and the fatigue and the bloat.

The miracle of creation.

Begetting. Bearing. Birthing.

With one request.

An identical outcome.

Because I can't imagine any other life.

 Abby and Jeremy - ages 6 months and 4 years. (1989)

And so I embrace what is.

Because it was.

Planned and purposed.

Before my time.

A miracle of creation.

From an empty womb.

Pregnant with faith.

Perfused with love.

Heart stretched past capacity.

Overflows.

Blessing begats blessing.

 Granddaughter Gracee - age 5-1/2 (2007)

And life is a kick.

No regrets.

(No stretch marks, either.)

" . . . we can't round up enough containers to hold everything God generously pours into our lives through the Holy Spirit!" Romans 5:5 (The Message)


Can you live a life with no regrets? Can you embrace what is?

Copyright © 2010 by Sandra Heska King

Saturday, April 10, 2010

Morning poem


Arise, oh sleeper.
A new day bursts
Wide open with promise.
Behold a robin
Dance of life.
Hark! A feathered melody.
Rejoice.
Give thanks.
And sing!

"Surprise us with love at daybreak; then we'll skip and dance all day long. Psalm 90:14 (MSG)

 Copyright © 2010 by Sandra Heska King

Thursday, April 8, 2010

My Cups Overflow

Cup. Mug. Glass. 

Do you have one nearby? I do. Almost all the time. And sometimes more than one.

Containers. Vessels.

They hold a lot of symbolism.

Circular rims--no beginning and no end.
Designed for use.
Thirst quenchers and comfort givers.
Sometimes worn and flawed.
Sometimes stained and mold coated.
Different shapes and various sizes.
Fragile and sturdy.
Microwave safe--or not.
Dishwasher safe--or not.
Must be emptied to be filled.
Must be filled to be emptied.

During my declutter frenzy, I pared down my stash. These favorites survived.


The company that takes care of family--employees and policyholders. I so appreciate that my husband's job as an agency standards consultant is secure and allows me to follow my dreams. I love the crackled look of this mug because I so often feel that way. I don't drink from this.


I don't drink from this cup either. But it reminds me of the cup Jesus drank from and that if I am to follow Him, I need to drink from it, too. It reminds me of a young girl in Kenya and of the organization that reaches out in compassion "releasing children from poverty in Jesus' name." On the back it says, "Children are great imitators. So give them something great to imitate." Good thought.


An often-used mug for coffee or tea or cocoa. I bought it back in the day when I buried myself in quilting to battle the pain of infertility. It encourages me to think of how God takes all the broken pieces and scraps of my life to create a patchwork masterpiece.



I just love Lucy! And I love chocolate. You probably didn't know that, right? My daughter bought this mug for me. It makes me smile, sometimes giggle, and sometimes laugh out loud. I think that's a good thing.


Abby also got this mug for me. It's cracked on the other side but still very useful. I use it a lot. I like to think I'm useful in spite of my cracks.


Company cups. The upper left is from my everyday dishes, but I don't regularly use the cup. The other cups belonged to my mother-in-law (upper right) and her mother (front and center.) I need to use those dishes more. Things of such beauty and sentiment don't belong behind closed doors.


Gift cups. I use these when I want (need) to pamper myself, maybe curl up with a good book and a candle and sip on a unique herb tea. We all need to feel special sometimes.


Vintage Cracker Barrel. I may treat myself to one of these for morning coffee. They might be chickens, but I still hear a cock crow in my head reminding me of Peter's impulsiveness and denial and Jesus' forgiveness and Peter becoming the rock he was meant to be. On the lighter side, they bring back memories of the chickens we raised for a couple of years--but that's another story. These are great, too, for large homemade lattes topped with lots of whipped cream.


These were my mother-in-law's toy dishes. I don't use them, but I enjoy looking at them and thinking of her playing with them as a girl. She would have been 101 years old this year. I'm also reminded that the cups are really small, which means they would brim over really fast. I think our spirit cups have a way of expanding.


I use one of these goblets and sip on ice water throughout the day. I could use a plain old thing, but I love the vine design and the way the glass catches the light and the way it feels when I grasp it. I think I drink more water because of it.


This mug is on order. A treat to myself when I finish my Sweeter Than Chocolate study of Psalm 119--with a hope that I'll grow to love the Word even more than a bag of M&M's.

My cups still overflow. My cup overflows. Oh, to be a useful vessel overflowing for Him.

"But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, so that the surpassing greatness of the power will be of God and not from ourselves." 2 Corinthians 4:7 (NASB)

What kind of spiritual symbolism can you see in a cup? 
Do you have a special one that you like to use?

Copyright © 2010 by Sandra Heska King

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Gentleness--Power Under Control

 My husband's great uncle was killed in World War I. The wheel horses were King horses, and the rest belonged to area farmers.

"Blessed are the gentle, for they shall inherit the earth." Matthew 5:5 (NIV)

"You hold Turk while I saddle Ike."

Dennis had taken me home to meet his parents. But mostly to gain horse approval. And the approval of saddle club members.

Me nervous?

Maybe.

Kind of.

A lot.

I rode a grade school friend's horse once. Nearly scraped off half my back as it galloped into the barn.

Anyway, I grasped the end of the reins. Turk happily chomped the grass. And when he "reached the end of his rope," he simply gave a mighty tug of the head and jerked me along behind him. Across the friends' backyard. Over and over.

Chomp. Chomp. Jerk.

Chomp. Chomp. Jerk.

Until the saddle horn caught on the clothesline. He jumped. And both posts collapsed inward, upending their cement "roots."

Good first impression.

Uncontrolled strength. Unharnessed power.

Turk knew his master. And he knew not me.

 Dennis and Turk.

Dennis tried me out on Lady. She limped down the road and tried to bite my toes. When we turned back toward the barn, she broke into a run while I, wild-eyed, grabbed the saddle horn as if it were my last bag of M&M's.

Years later, I came across this verse:

"But let it be the hidden person of the heart, with the imperishable quality of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is precious in the sight of God." 1 Peter 3:4 (NIV)

So I set out to implement those characteristics in my life.

By not talking.

At the time, I transcribed reports for Heidi, a rehabilitation nurse. She would share things that were going on in her life, and I would listen. In silence. Months later she finally asked me what I was hiding. She even said her thoughts turned to the Mafia. I think she was serious.

My efforts did not produce the quality.

Because I couldn't.

Impossible. 

And, of course, my self-control only evidenced itself with acquaintances anyway. 

At home? Another story.

Uncontrolled tongue. Unharnessed emotions

I knew my Master. But I took the reins.

The Greek for "gentle" in both verses is prays. Also translated "meek." 

Not weak.

A strong word.

A tamed animal.

A broken colt.

Power under control.

A fruit of the spirit.

Gentleness, or meekness, speaks of training and learning to handle heavy loads in the lightest way. A surrender to the master's control.


And a quiet spirit does not necessarily mean a quiet personality. It does not mean silence.

A gentle and quiet spirit is unruffled. Free from frenzy. But it can be angry at the right time at the right person in the right way for the right length of time.

Stability in stress.

Courage in crisis.

Tranquility in turbulence.

Peace in the preposterous.

Impossible on my own.

A gentle and quiet spirit says, "God, I give you the reins in this situation. I accept this in your sovereignty because you want to make me more like Jesus through it. I willingly accept the yoke. I embrace it. And I embrace you as you embrace me."

Controlled by the Spirit.

Harnessed to Jesus.

 Wendy and me. Dennis' parents bought her for me. After I'd learned a little.

NOTE: This post is part of the Blog Carnival on GENTLENESS . For more thoughts, visit One Word at a Time.

Copyright © 2010 by Sandra Heska King

Sunday, April 4, 2010

He's Alive!

 Tu Lips are made to praise!


He's alive, and I'm forgiven. 
Heaven's gates are open wide.

Alleluia!



Copyright © 2010 by Sandra Heska King

Saturday, April 3, 2010

Black Saturday - A Meditation


Disappointment.
Crushed hopes.
Gut-wrenching grief.
Heart-stopping fear.
Defeat.
Sealed tomb.
Darkness.
Death.

Final four.
Spring break.
Easter Bunny.
Egg hunts.
Yard work.
Meal preparations.
Readied finery.

God's appointment.
Fragrant hope.
Unrestrained joy.
Renewed courage.
Victory.
Empty tomb.
Light.
Life.

"And they went and made the grave secure, and along with the guard they set a seal on the stone." 
Matthew 27:66 (NASB)

Will you remember today?

Copyright © 2010 by Sandra Heska King

Friday, April 2, 2010

More Time in the Light

 
My living room boasts two large windows, one about ten feet wide and the other about eight. Heavy floor-to-ceiling decorator drapes hang from each. I don't know how much they weigh. Heavy. Took forever to find traverse rods long enough and substantial enough to support them.

A few gentle tugs on a cord in the morning part the veil. Darkness flees, and a light flood washes over the room. I stand face to face with the sun. Momentarily blinded, I shade my eyes.

I need more time in the light.

Dust particles dance while smears and smudges clap in time.

Exposed.

The animals saunter in to spy out the land and bask in the warmth.

I think about Moses and how his face glowed after an encounter with the Almighty and how the people could not look at him unless he veiled his face.

My family does not shrink back from me. I don't need a veil.

Pity.

I need more time in the Light.

My mind wanders to another veil. Purple and blue and scarlet. Thirty feet wide. Sixty feet long. The thickness of a man's palm--about four inches. (Some sources say three.) Tradition says it took 300 priests to hang it, and Josephus says horses hooked to each side could not tear it.

The veil separated the Holy from the Most Holy. Only the high priest could enter once a year on the Day of Atonement. It symbolized sinful man's separation from a holy God.

A division.

A barrier.

Christ's body.

And when Jesus died, the veil split from top to bottom.

A Light flood.

Exposed.

A way.

Directly into His presence.

Face to face.

I need more time in the Light.



"And when Jesus had cried out again in a loud voice, he gave up his spirit. At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom." Matthew 27:50-51 (NIV)

"Therefore, brothers, since we have confidence to enter the Most Holy Place by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way opened for us through the curtain, that is, his body, and since we have a great priest over the house of God, let us draw near to God with a sincere heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled to cleanse us from a guilty conscience and having our bodies washed with pure water." Hebrews 10:19-22 (NIV)

Do you need more time in the Light?

Copyright © 2010 by Sandra Heska King
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