Still Saturday::dying to live...

{Blue speckled mockingbird eggs}

...the Bible says that the new way of obedience is fruit-bearing, not law-keeping.

"You...have died to the law through the body of Christ, so that you may belong to another, to him who has been raised from the dead, in order that we may bear fruit for God." {Romans 7.4}

We have died to law-keeping so that we might live to fruit-bearing.

Die to the law, that you might bear the fruit of love.

John Piper,  The Passion of Jesus Christ,  p.81

{Between February 12th and April 16th (the Wednesday before Easter), I am reading and discussing John Piper's The Passion of Jesus Christ - Fifty Reasons Why Jesus Came to Die with a group of friends. From now through Easter, my Still Saturday quotes and I {LOVE} Sunday scriptures will come from my readings in this book by Piper, and the photos might simply be a few favorites from those I've taken during the week.}

To live like it...

Meeting at Starbucks to continue working out the details for our May book launch, Robbi and I sat outside with our drinks and the warmth of the sun on our shoulders.

I can't recall what prompted the detour in our conversation -- from launch party plans to the sharing of a piece of the puzzle that's my story, but I mentioned to Robbi that in the prodigal years early in our marriage, my husband and I believed, but we didn't have faith. 

If you asked us if we were Christians, we would have said yes, but we certainly weren't living like it, I explained. 

Later that day, I heard faith described as acting like you really believe what God says is true.

Exactly. We didn't act like we believed much of anything.

If I truly believe that in Christ I've been forgiven, I won't wallow in shame and condemnation.

If I truly believe God has and will meet my every need, I won't be consumed by fretting and worrying.

If I truly believe in God's sovereignty, I won't entertain woe-is-me's or be paralyzed by fear.

If I truly believe God is loving and good, I'll cheerfully obey His commandments and trust that what He allows in my life will be redeemed for my good.

I believe you, Lord. Thank you for the grace to live like it.

{Photos - a few of the feathery visitors to Pollywog Creek last week}

The look you've always wanted...

I'm back in the plastic surgeon's office, fumble with my phone and post this status on my facebook page:

I always feel like a country bumpkin when I have an appointment with my plastic surgeon in her up-scale office.

My wise friend Dawn challenges my faulty perspective by immediately responding:

Is she the daughter of the King of the Universe?!

Touché, Dawn. I needed that.

All the while I'm working on an article about being comfortable in our own skin.

Oh, the irony and humility of it all.

I'm here for the same reason I saw the plastic surgeon the last time - well over a year ago, she tells me as she examines this new cyst on my cheek.

It's probably obvious, but I'm not inclined to be overly concerned with my appearance - not since I was a teenager. My make-up routine takes less than a minute - a little powder, a wee bit of color brushed across my cheeks, a light coat of lipstick and I call it done. I'm here because I trust the removal of these cysts on my face to a surgeon with the skills to minimize scarring, but I can't help but wonder if she looks at me and thinks that I could use more of her skills - under my chin, around my eyes...

I wrote about my first experience in this plastic surgeon's office and the same awkward out-of-my-comfort-zone feelings I still fight, but I also wrote about my irritation with the artificial beauty standards our culture promotes that contribute to our beliefs that we aren't beautiful enough without the help of plastic surgery. This seems like a good opportunity to post it again.

* * *

The waiting room resembles an upscale department store more than it does a doctor's office. Make-up and skin care products line display case shelves and the furniture is upholstered and elegant. I feel terribly under-dressed and out of place in my blue jeans, gray hair, and wrinkles.

It's my first experience with a plastic surgeon and an eye-opening one at that. My other doctors have pamphlets on cholesterol and diabetes and high blood pressure in their examination rooms - not liposuction, tummy tucks, and face lifts.

On the wall near the check-out desk I see a poster for Care Credit. Now you can have the look you've always wanted, the poster promises - in just 6 monthly payments.

There are a variety of needs for plastic surgery, of course. Needs that benefit from a plastic surgeon's skills in minimizing scaring and restoration and reconstruction after burns, facial injuries and mastectomies, for example.

But the look you've always wanted?

I like my doctor. She's kind and compassionate and does nothing to make me and my wrinkles and untucked tummy feel out of place in her office, but I'm irritated at a specialty that appears to exploit the need we have to feel beautiful and the temptation they dangle before us to borrow money in the hopes of achieving the look we've always wanted.

I'm sad for my girlfriends who've believed the lies that the physical adornments and features a fashion and entertainment industry promotes are the standard for beauty, and the lengths they will go to achieve those false and artificial standards.

In the book of Isaiah, God's people are encouraged with the prophecy that the desolation of Jerusalem will one day be restored with the coming Messiah, and they are reminded of the source of all beauty...

You shall be a crown of beauty in the hand of the LORD, and a royal diadem in the hand of your God.

Isaiah 62:3 (emphasis mine)

It is not in the skilled hands of a plastic surgeon that you and I are made beautiful, but in the tender loving hands of an all powerful God Who makes "a crown of beauty" for ashes and in Whose image we have been created perfectly new.

The most beautiful girls I know are girlfriends, like you, who shine radiant in the light of Christ.

* * *

In the hand of the LORD was originally published here.

Sweet Shot Tuesday::Sittin' in the catbird seat...

Gray Catbird

Of all the birds that visit our Pollywog Creek backyard, the gray catbird has been one of the least frequent and one of the most difficult for me to photograph.

He's both shy and busy - twitching about and hopping from branch to branch before I can focus - but over the past two weeks, this one has been showing up often. Sittin' on the catbird seat, I suppose.

One morning over a week ago I was taking the photo that I posted for last week's Sweet Shot Tuesday, standing near the honeysuckle vine - the mockingbird's favorite hideway to guard the flame bush berries he's claimed as his own. When I turned around, the catbird below surprised both of us by emerging from the vine. He "mewed" his cat-like call, took one look at me before bobbing his tail and flying back to the thickets along the creek - his normal winter habitat.

Not only did he risk the mockingbird's ire by hiding in the honeysuckle vine, he returned later this week to munch on the flame bush berries, and I have the photographic evidence to prove it.

Yesterday there were two mockingbirds flying in and out of the honeysuckle vine. Nesting maybe? If that's the case, I doubt I'll be seeing much of the catbird again. 

How not to go over the hill...

There's no such thing as "over the hill," I tell my friend Diana in a comment I wrote earlier this week. We're all on the same journey toward home. There's no turning back, just moving forward. Some of us are closer to home than others, but wherever we are, all any of us have is today.

Last week I attended the funeral of a woman, who, if she had lived just one more month, would be celebrating her 101st birthday this weekend. I never saw her go over a hill. I never witnessed a moment when her life became less vibrant or significant. If anything, she grew more lovely, more treasured, and more full of grace. 

I wish I'd embraced my age long ago. Rather than being coy about it, I should have announced my 40th, 50th or 60th birthday with joy and gratitude for God's faithfulness over the years and for the grace He gives - one day at a time. 

I wish I'd been less peer-group-focused and valued the council of the women I knew who were further down this sinuous path and whose wisdom could help me navigate where they've already traveled. 

My declaration to act my age isn't a resignation, but a thanksgiving that the LORD has allowed me to become a woman of a certain age. There will be just as much to rejoice and celebrate at my 90th birthday {should the LORD leave me here that long} as there was at my first. 

To my dear girlfriends from 18 to 100: let go of those ties to the years past and those fabled hills that try to make you feel old, with gratitude embrace each day and year God gives, and hold onto {treasure} the girlfriends of every age that He brings into your life. 

Love well, listen attentively, learn from those who walk around you and pick up those who stumble. Lets live this one life well together. 

So tell me, if you will...how many years has the LORD given you?

{Photos - more Pollywog Creek backyard and around the pond this week}

Week{ending}...

It's my first quiet Saturday at home in at least three weeks, and though I'm once again at the edge of deadlines that require my attention, I'm anxious to first be outside in the cool morning sunshine with my basket of books and cameras....and a large cup of coffee, of course.

And you? In this new day the Lord has made?  What delights do you anticipate? 

{Photos: mockingbird in a scrub oak and bottle brush tree - dawn to dusk on Pollywog Creek}

Linking with sweet Sandra's "Still Saturday"...

I {LOVE} Sunday::to wake again..

But you, O LORD, are a shield about me,
my glory, and the lifter of my head.
I cried aloud to the LORD,
and he answered me from his holy hill. Selah
I lay down and slept;
I woke again, for the LORD sustained me.
Psalm 3:3-5 ESV
Joining the lovely Deidra and her Sunday community...

Week{ending}...

As I write today's week{ending} post, I am grateful for how these Saturday entries have evolved over time and how the Lord has used them that I might continue to "cultivate an eye" for His abundant graces and mercies at work in my life. 

The rebel in me sometimes resists routines that appear to be stale and rigid, but when I catch a glimpse of how the Lord works through orderliness and disciplines - through faithfulness to persevere through the seemingly ordinary and mundane - I wonder why I ever resist.

Simply pausing to reflect on the past few days and the ways the Lord carried me through the not-so-easy moments and surprised me with glimpses of glory and unexpected blessings brings me joy and hope and encouragement for the days ahead. 

The end of the week brought last minute writing assignments with deadlines right around the corner, as well as the opportunity to work with Joe Bunting {The Write Practice} to judge February's writing contest. I expect to spend considerable time on my laptop today - hopefully while on my backyard swing delighting in the taste of spring that will likely give way to winter in tonight's near-freeze.

I also have four dozen cookies to bake for church tomorrow, and my grown-up baby girl flies home after almost a week away. I'll either spend tomorrow afternoon listening to Emily's wonderful stories or watching her sleep on the couch.   

What does your week{ending} hold? I really do want to know. 

{Photos}cardinal, pine warbler, white-winged dove, mockingbird

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