The gratitude of a love-filled heart...

...that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith—that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.  ~ Ephesians 3:17-19 ESV

That renewing of my mind discipline took me straight to the cross this stormy morning - the place where Love spoke and suffered and spilled out in unimaginable, impossible-to-comprehend measure...

To be a man was something, to be a man of sorrows was far more; to bleed, and die, and suffer, these were much for him who was the Son of God; but to suffer such unparalleled agony-to endure a death of shame and desertion by his Father, this is a depth of condescending love which the most inspired mind must utterly fail to fathom. Herein is love! and truly it is love that "passeth knowledge." O let this love fill our hearts with adoring gratitude... ~ Charles Spurgeon

....and with my gratitude journal open, I continue the counting

...Amazing Love
...abundant mercy and grace
...safe travels
...overflowing daily provisions
...a sweet trip down memory lane
...contagious laughter
...patient and forgiving editors
...praying and loving and encouraging friends
...a warm and comfortable and dry house on a wet and stormy morning
...candlelight
...moonlight
...sunlight
...birdsong
...medicine
...extravagant grace gifts
...strength and rest for weariness
...fresh flowers for the kitchen counter
...grandchildren and t-ball
...a daughter who humbles me
...sons who make me proud

If my adoration matched His love, my list would never end.

Would you and your love-filled heart join in the listing? The counting? The adoration?

Why disciplines are important...

Earlier this week...

Darkness has barely given way to morning light. I'm still in bed. And exhausted.

I will myself to move. Stand. Every joint burns, and I shuffle and limp from the bed to the kitchen - reaching for support along the way.

Before coffee, I head straight for the meds that promise relief, but my red, swollen fingers won't cooperate. I spill an entire bottle of pills - across the counter, onto the floor, under the stove.

And I want to cry.

At the edge of what feels like defeat, I give my fears a voice.

I don't think I can do this.

Extravagant gifts remain packaged on the dining room table for almost 2 days - a real camera and lenses. Gifts I don't believe I deserve. Gifts I find myself nearly paralyzed to use.

What if this "real" camera proves I'm not a photographer?  What if I'm disappointing God?  What if I'm a disappointment to everyone?

Confidence to do anything - write, speak, photograph, learn, think, cook, or even, love - vaporizes as I let fear and defeat speak into my life.

The day's appointments and possibilities loom menacing before me and the I can'ts and what ifs multiply in a cacophonic chorus.

What if I really can't do what is expected of me anymore?  

I make my way out of the kitchen and ease into my long-established daily rhythms - the renewing of my mind disciplines of study and prayer; and Charles Spurgeon. Oswald Chambers. Ann Voskamp. Scotty Smith. and Paul speak biblical truth to my pitiful, fearful soul.  

Darkness gives way to light, and I'm reminded that nothing depends on me, but to depend on God who strengthens me.

Too tired for words...

Seriously.

When my days are as rich and full and challenging and satisfying as they have been, there's simply no more energy for words.

I stare at the computer screen - hoping to retrieve those profound blog-worthy thoughts I'd entertained earlier - but they've scattered off to the land of lost thoughts and I'm left with photos and no words.

I can choose to leave the photos hidden in my rarely visited flickr account or I can post them here with no words.

I choose the later.

Tomorrow I might have words.

Photos: A spring dusk on Pollywog Creek

Right here...

Earlier this week I watched a blackbird fly over Pollywog Creek and out of sight. Apparently focused on nest building - he carried a large twig in his beak, and I was curious.

Why was that twig worth carrying a great distance when surely there were many other acceptable, if not better, nest-building twigs close to the nest?

Which, of course, prompted me to ask the same question of myself.

Why do I ever think there's something better - more beautiful, more satisfying, more whatever - "over there", when there's joy and contentment and all things good right where I am?

"In the hope of reaching the moon men fail to see the flowers that blossom at their feet." -   Albert Schweitzer

We don't have to do this alone...

We sat in the sunroom off the master bedroom while Joyce encouraged her mother to eat and I read a week’s worth of Marilyn’s emails aloud. Ninety-one year old Nanny frequently closed her eyes and shook her head, sweetly refusing the spoonfuls of soup and sips of water her daughter offered, but Joyce patiently persevered – gently coaxing her mother to eat as I read.

(read the rest here)

I'm guest blogging at (in)courage in the book club today.

Are you as amazed as I am that those beautiful, talented and creative young women let a gray-haired grandmother like me in the door? Just don't tell them about my frogs and gators, okay?

I hope you will join me over there and let me know you stopped by.

Common grace...

You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven. For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. ~ Matthew 5:43-45 ESV