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There she stood, in the pouring rain, all alone, waiting. She was wet and her countenance weary.  My day had been full of one aggravating thing after another. Just one of those days where all the “to do’s” seemed almost overwhelming. I was on a mission; I had errands to run before picking up kids from school, so I drove on by. I wasn’t more than 300 feet away when a sudden feeling of desperation grabbed a hold of me. I spoke out loud, “doesn’t she have an umbrella? So I pulled over, crawled through my van frantically knowing that there had to be an umbrella in this mess somewhere! Finally, crammed underneath one of the seats was a black one. I turned around, headed back in her direction, pulled as close as I could and ran to her, umbrella in hand. I wasn’t sure if she would think I was some crazy woman who was going to attack her, but when I got to her I simply said, “Do you have an umbrella? She looked at me with surprise and simply said no, so I handed her mine.  All I could say to her was please don’t stand out here uncovered, please stay dry. She thanked me so much; I ran back to my car and drove away. As I looked in my rear view mirror, I saw her standing, umbrella above her, and if only for a few moments, I knew she was safe and sheltered from the elements around her.

The Bible says in Psalm 91: Those who live in the shelter of the Most High will find rest in the shadow of the Almighty.This I declare about the Lord: He alone is my refuge, my place of safety; he is my God, and I trust him.”  As I drove away from this stranger that I may never see again, those words rang as clear in my spirit as if someone was sitting next to me reading them aloud. 

Elements. Things beyond your control. Moments in life that drop kick you in the gut and leave you gasping for air. I don’t know anything about this woman. I don’t know what’s going on in her life or yours. I’m not a very educated person (I guess it would have been overboard for God to have given me smarts along with my exceptionally winning personality and super cute looks…wink wink!) But there is something that I know better than I know my own name. And that is where my hiding place is! My shelter!  Not only do I know where to run, but I know where to dwell.  I could write a book, and I very well may do that one day, on moments over the years that could have crippled me or even left me desolate, but in His secret place I have been protected. Nothing has been or ever will be able to penetrate through the wings of the Almighty. A thousand may fall at my side and ten thousand at my right hand, but in Him I will stand. Even when I feel like I am falling, He has already commanded His angels to have charge over me.  Because I have chosen to make the Lord my refuge, there is nothing that will overtake me. He is with me in my troubles and He has promised to rescue me and protect me.

I pass people on the streets every day, but for some reason today, this woman with no umbrella has seized my heart. My kids are hungry, I need to go to the store, I haven’t bought one Christmas present, laundry needs to be washed, and I have one more test to take…. But, oh my goodness, I can’t do anything until I write and tell you that you never have to stand unsheltered and alone. So much more than I couldn’t stand this woman having to stand out in the rain, God couldn’t bare you having to exist without Him.  He loves you so much that He stepped out of the portals of eternity, penetrated time and space, wrapped himself in flesh and came so that you could know Him! I’m not sure where this is all coming from, this usually isn’t like me at all, but there is a desperate plea resonating from my Spirit tonight…someone, somewhere is being drenched by the rains that are beating down upon them. I beg of you, please don’t stand there uncovered. Please come under His shelter.  Please stay dry…..

This day started like many other Sundays. I got up and quietly snuck out of the house to go to early church service. Afterwards I made my normal quick stop at the grocery store before heading back home to a houseful of kiddos. While checking out I struck up a conversation with the older gentlemen who was bagging my groceries. I have exchanged small conversations with him before, he is always friendly and sweet. This morning, however, I learned several wonderful things about him:

He and his wife used to own a restaurant in the mall many years ago – I remember it!

He loved his wife more than anyone! 52 glorious years of marriage to his best friend. Cancer took her from him last August.
He works, not because he needs the money, but because he misses his wife and needs something to do. “It gets lonely in a big ol’ house by yourself.”

He loves his children and is very proud of them and their achievements.

He loves his grandchildren.

In just a few short minutes, this stranger that I cross paths with at least once a week gave me a glimpse of who he was and I fell in love with his life, his story, his passion for the woman he loved so many years and his cheerful heart that is shaded by an emptiness that can’t be filled. If I never see him again in my life, for just a moment he became my friend.

It probably sounds silly I guess but it is moments like these that bring me back to the foundation of what I love about life. I love people and I love stories and every day, everywhere, there is someone who has a story that is waiting to be told. I can’t even begin to fathom what all I miss out on as I run chaotically through my busy days. There are times I lay my head down on my pillow at night and the day was so crammed pack it just seems like a blur.

But some days, just like today, all the busyness stops, and for just a few fleeting moments, a connection is made. A story is shared. A heart is touched. A stranger becomes a friend and life just seems better.

Like trying to hold on to the air,
Vain efforts that flow from a heart that has never been driven by sense.
The melody that moves her isn’t audible to those who watch from a distance,
To them her dance seems awkward ,
In ignorant bliss they judge and walk away,
But her soul knows well there is no other tune that exists.

So she dances, full of hope, led by faith,
Confident that the Master Composer is the creator of her song,
A ballad that resonates with notes of passion, crescendos of joy,
Splashes of color – oh if rainbows had a voice!
The striking of the black and white harmonizing into a beautiful melancholy of gray.

She dances, completely aware of her surroundings,
Constantly battling the ever accusing voice that compels her to stop.
“Sit this one out,” he whispers,
But even in her weariness she cannot deny the desire that presses her on.
Sometimes in her loneliness she cries, “Is there anyone who will dance with me?”
Other times, all alone, she marvels in the touch of the unseen hands that guide her.

Come sunshine and rain, hope and despair, laughter and tears,
There is one thing that is certain,
She will dance.
Until her hearts beats no more,
Until her ears are deafened and the music is silenced,
Until mercy runs away and grace closes the curtain,
Until there is absolutely nothing left inside,
She will dance….

Autumn seems to tickle the senses in a way that no other season does. The vibrant colors that paint the landscape, the crispy aroma that fills the air, the crunching sounds of leaves as our dog frolics around in the backyard. The coolness of the air that teases us to cover up. I truly love this time of year.

I was lying in my bed a few mornings ago listening to the small drizzle of rain and looking out the window at the leaves that were falling from the trees like snowflakes. One by one from various places all over the tree they would seem to gently let go as they allowed the wind to catch them and take them wherever it pleased. A plethora of questions came rushing into my mind:

How did each leaf know when it was their time to let go? The branch they had clung too for months had given them life. It had been their home, the place where they grew and thrived. How comfortable it must have felt to be a part of this branch. The spring rain and the summer sun had beaten down upon them numerous times as they clung tightly to their life source. Storms had come and threatened their existence, yet up until this moment, they had held on.

What about this very moment made the difference?

Were they satisfied that they had fulfilled their destiny and with confidence gently loosened their grip to fall trustingly into the open wind?

Were they curious of what it would be like to be independent from this old tree and boisterously flung themselves loose into the great wide open?

Had the storms of summer weakened their resistance and they could no longer sustain against the gust of wind that was tugging at them with persistence?

Perhaps they were simply tired of holding on, knowing the inevitable winter was coming so they just gave in to the season that embraced them.

As I laid there and watched these leaves, I saw myself in their plight. I heard my symphony as they danced with the wind. I realized that every question of reason was shouting from within my being. Autumn had come and set up residence in my heart many months ago,bringing so many changes my way:

Some were welcomed and I felt no apprehensions as I chose to follow their lead.

Some had tickled my curiosity and, like a child with no reason, I had pursued hard after them.

Some had come at me like a whirlwind, pounding against my resistance, beckoning me to give in and to loosen my grip.

And some were still lingering, with weary hands and a worn out grip, I find myself clinging to the threads of a fading hope, knowing with dreadful apprehension that if I did find the courage to let go, then winter would surely come and bring death to the once beautiful things I cherished.

Life, with all her uncertainties possesses a surety in the cycles. Autumn will give way to winter and the cold will come with death in her bosom. Just when you think that you can’t take another day, spring will burst forth with her promise of life anew. Summer will follow with her warm embrace, but ah don’t get too comfortable. Once again the kiss of Autumn will paint her colors before us and sing her song of letting go.

I laid there shaken by the thoughts that consumed me. If I were the leave, oh Lord, what comes after I fall? In a moment of clarity, the answer came bringing yet another life lesson. I am not the leaf whose destiny is the hands of changing seasons. I am the branch that is attached to the life giving tree. Jesus tells his disciples in John 15:5 that He is the vine (tree) and they are the branches. As long as they abide – live in and through Him – they will produce much fruit. Apart from Him, they can do nothing. So yes, as sure as the seasons come and go, there will be times in my life that I blossom with the new, times that I bend and shake in the storms, and I will inevitably face those moments that I must let go of the things that are dying. It will all come to pass, but my security lies in the source of life that I am attached too. Regardless of what comes my way, if I remain intact, living and abiding in the tree, then I will grow stronger with each passing season.

John 15:5 – I am the vine; you are the branches. Those who remain in me, and I in them, will produce much fruit. For apart from me, you can do nothing.

The Webster’s dictionary defines time as: (A): the measured or measurable period during which an action, process, or condition exists or continues (B): a nonspatial continuum that is measured in terms of events which succeed one another from past through present to future

The Rolling Stones sing that time is on our side while Cher wishes that she could turn back time. Leave it to Jim Croce and he would put time in a bottle while Tommy Shaw contemplates over having too much time on his hands. Famous quotes proclaim, “Time is free, but it’s priceless. You can’t own it, but you can use it. You can’t keep it, but you can spend it. Once you’ve lost it you can never get it back.”

When I am overwhelmed with a list of to-do’s, I may spout out “There just isn’t enough time in the day!” When birthdays roll around and I reflect back on the years that have passed, turning my sweet little babies into blossoming adults, I whisper, “where has the time gone?”  When we are missing someone, time may seem unbearable but when we are lying in our lover’s arms, time is eternal.

This morning by accident I clicked on something and my Facebook timeline went back from the present and flashed before me the years of 2009 and 2010. At first I was aggravated, stupid computer! But then I took a few moments to read over some of the things that I had posted almost three years ago. Wow. I laughed, I cried, I breathed a heavy sigh of relief. My heart leaped within me and then it broke into pieces. Ahh, the memories that had been recorded. My oh my how time had changed some things and how some things still remained the same. What a privilege it was to reflect back on some of the best times and some of the worst times of my life so far.

Time is something that we all are granted yet it is something that we can’t control. Like sands through the hourglass, it simply passes without prejudice or favor to anyone. I have known only once in history that time has ever really “stood still” (Joshua 10:13) and only once when time was literally turned back (Isaiah 38:7 –bet that caused a ruckus!!) So for the rest of us, we are at the mercy of the ticking clock. 24 hours a day, 60 minutes every hour and 60 seconds every minute. As much as I would like to say sometimes, “hold up a second!” and everything freeze like it does in space cadet movies, I realize that despite my outbursts, the clock just keeps moving ahead and doing what it was created to do.

I’m a firm believer that someone much bigger than myself is the giver and taker of time and He has allotted me and every other human being a specific measurement on the invisible line between the beginning dot and the ending dot. I debated with Him this morning that the concept of time was like an oxymoron. Whether I spent it wisely, or wasted it, it still passed. Whether I cherished every moment or dreaded the passing hour, it still passed! Whether I welcomed each day with a smile or growled as I got out of bed, the hours still passed without any ado and once the hours were gone, there was no turning back. Only a forward motion to another day, that was, yep, inevitably going to pass. Needless to say, I found myself a little frustrated.

In the midst of my worked up emotional state of being (yeah I know, what else is new, right?) the God of all creation took the time to remind me of something extraordinary about Himself. Although in His sovereignty, He has chosen to put a measure on the length of our days, He is not bound by the limits of time. A day to Him is as a thousand years and a thousand years as a day. He tells me in Psalm 139 that somewhere in the portals of eternity, He wrote a book on my life. Then at the appointed time, He formed me in the dark place of my mother’s womb and fearfully and wonderfully made me. I am positive that there have been many moments over the years of my life that I have leaped right off the pages of His book and carelessly penned some pages of my own. I’m thankful that His grace and forgiveness can dispose of those poorly written chapters and mercifully put me back in the place I belong.

He took a few moments to remind me that, to Him, it isn’t important how much time I have been given. However it is imperative of what I choose to do with it. Absolutely no one is put here for the raw sake of taking up space. God is not careless like that. Space is infinite to Him, and if by chance He ran out, well He can just create some more!

To Him, it is about purpose. And although each and every single human being has a different destiny to fulfill, we all have the same purpose; He wants us to know Him. To live my life as a great success; beautiful, rich, famous, wanting nothing – yet not knowing Him, I have not gained a single thing. To live desolate and depraved, homeless and hungry – never turning to Him, the tragedy isn’t in my poor circumstances, yet in the fact that I never knew Him. As I sat down again today and looked back over the memories of the years I had recorded on my social network page, there was one thing for certain. HE had been there every day! Through every heartache and every joy. Each moment of laughter and each tear that had been shed. Sometimes He stood in front of me clearing the way. Sometimes He was behind me holding me up. Sometimes He was embracing me, calming my fears. And sometimes He was standing back a little watching me as I went along. But ALL the times, He was there. Never a moment passed that I was without Him.

I have no idea how much time I have left here living out the life of this wonderful, emotionally clad creature that He made me. I surely can’t promise that I will spend all of my time wisely. However, I am certain of this one thing, I don’t want one moment of time to pass without Him. I need His presence more than I need air in my lungs. Thank you beautiful Lord for spending this precious time of reflection with me today!

She was a peculiar creature. Always seeing the world around her so much different than those she knew. There was so much passion that seethed through every cell of her being, it was impossible to suppress. There wasn’t anything she just saw, it had to be embraced, felt, and ciphered through the portals of her mind. To have a dollar for every emotion she exerted over a stranger whose countenance spoke volumes of a story that was left unread. A radiant blue sky. A broken seashell. A friend’s despair or a child’s accomplishment.  A summer breeze and an Autumn thunderstorm.  The memory that invaded her moment and refused to leave until she acknowledged its place. The song that spoke to that secret place in her heart.

It was a yin/yang way to live. At times the emotions were so elating that life couldn’t seem any better. And other times the heaviness that weighed upon her was unbearable. Nothing was simple. Absolutely everything had to be expressed. It was a risky way of life. There were those precious few that embraced her for all that she was, that looked beyond the surface and warmed themselves from the fires that burned deep within. Some were brave enough to stoke the coals, inspiring her to be more. Then there were those who didn’t understand. Who judged and ridiculed, who felt the need to smolder the fire and snuff out the flame. Ah, the wounds they carelessly carved into such a fragile heart. There were countless times she prayed to the One who had made her – “please change me! My heart can’t bear any more.” Yet she knew that change wasn’t dare worth the connections she would miss, so she would retract her pleadings, and submit  once again to His sovereignty that ruled her world.

She was a hopeful creature. Although life had seemed many of times to treat her like the bastard child, still each day she arose with the insane idea that surely something good would happen. “Look on the bright side” was her motto. Those around her whose world was blackened by anger and bitterness, they would demand that she take off those rose colored glasses! But roses were red, and red was her favorite color.” Life isn’t a fairy tale!” reality would shout, but she liked fairy tales and was she was determined that her ending would be worth every effort she put forth so valiantly.

She lived, she laughed, and she loved. Oh how she loved! Her biggest flaw was that she lacked caution and she gave it all. Whether it was to the stranger at the bank, the friend that her soul was entwined with or to the lover that possessed her heart, she felt like nothing less than a criminal if she dare held back any part of her. It was puzzling to many and brought well meant chastisement at times, but she was driven by a lover that began wooing her before the foundations of the world came into existence, who paid the ultimate price just to call her his own. How on earth could she give any less?

She was a damaged creature. Wounds had left scars that were forever penned upon the pages of her story.  Early in life rejection, loneliness and worthlessness visited her often.  They would come to her like long lost friends and compel her to entertain them. She felt it necessary to hide away within herself, but time, healing and wisdom had taught her it was okay to refuse these unwanted guests and send them back to the crevice they belonged in. Her scars seemed to attract kindred spirits and somehow in the intricate plans of eternity, they became beautiful. She no longer hid them nor displayed them, she just let them remain for whatever purpose her Creator allowed them to be imparted. Her heart would ache when she would encounter familiar wounds lingering in the presence of others. A need would rise up in her like a gladiator to fight and conquer those desolate enemies and impart strength and value to another weary, tattered soul.

She was everything that she was, nothing more and nothing less. Like the potter molds his clay, all that had came to pass had molded her. She had a peace that had fought its way through chaos. A hope that had bore the test of sadness and despair. Beauty, that had somehow through the act of enormous grace, been formed from ashes and a strength that came rushing like a mighty wind when weakness threatened to take her captive. She was confident that she was nothing, yet in a plan that was formed before the foundations of the world came into existence, she was everything and that was all she knew.

Anyone that knows me knows that one of my favorite places to be is at the ocean. It is a love affair that began several years ago when I took my babies to the beach for their first time. Although I had visited Florida as a young child and had gone to Myrtle once as a teenager, I had very little recognition of the trips. It wasn’t until July 5^th 2004 that this wonderful romance was set aflame. My babies were so excited when we arrived to our destination and we hurriedly ran down to take our first walk on the sandy shore. I vividly remember it as if it were yesterday; the fresh smell of the salty air, the gentle breeze upon my skin and the warmth that penetrated my every being.  I stood there in amazement as I gazed out as far as the eye could see, beholding the vastness of the ocean and watching as the water formed waves that rushed ever so politely to the shoreline, spilling over my bare feet. It was as if the God of heaven spoke in His still small voice, “this is where I was standing when I said, ‘This far and no farther will you come. Here your proud waves must stop!” (Job 38:11). Oh how my heart was smitten and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt I had found ta special place that I wanted to visit often!  Our vacations now consist of a yearly trip to the ocean. The geographical destination may change some, but I can’t explain the excitement that bubbles up in me as I anticipate my return to the place where my heart feels at home and my spirit feels at rest.

One of the things I like to do while vacationing is look for sea shells. I love all of them with their many shapes, sizes and colors and no matter how many I already have, I always like to take a new collection home with me.  One morning on our most recent vacation, way before the sun had made its appearance over the horizon; I awoke with a plethora of things weighing on my mind.  Instead of tossing and turning, I decided it was the perfect time for a walk/run so I snuck out quietly and off I went headed to the pier that was on the other side of eternity (well maybe not that far, but after running/walking to and from it with sand in my tennis shoes, it surely felt like it was eons away!)

My walks are always a two-fold mission – exercise and prayer time and I couldn’t think of a more perfect place to walk and talk with my Father.  As soon as my feet hit the sand, I was saturated with the awareness of His presence. My troubled thoughts became praises of awe and wonder at the beauty that surrounded me.  My spirit sang within me and like a child on a treasure hunt I whispered, “Oh Lord, let me find something spectacular this morning. Something you like. Something you can speak to me from. Something straight from your hand to mine.”

I was determined to make it all the way to the pier so the journey there consisted of no stops along the way. I walked, I ran, I ran, and I walked until finally, with sheer diligence I made it. I took a snapshot to prove my accomplishment to my crew, and after a few deep breathes I set out to return homeward, this time taking the time to enjoy the scenery and search for the treasures. There were so many pretty shells laying on the sand, I wanted to hoard up every one of them but each time I was inclined to bend down to grab one, a gentle voice would say,  “no not that one.”  I continued on with my search until I saw it.  Lying in the midst of all the others was this one particular shell that stood out like a sore thumb. I knelt down to take a closer look. It was obvious that this weathered shell had experienced many years of being tossed to and fro at the mercy of the waters. There were lines and cracks endured from the pressures of the sea however the foundation of the shell was still intact. Its colors had been dulled by the friction of the sand. There were places it had been broken but not utterly destroyed.

As I picked it up and held it in my hands I was intrigued by its story. Where had it been? How many miles had it traveled, enduring the weight of waters afflictions? What had it looked like when it was whole?  What had once thrived inside of it using its walls as a place of refuge? How did it get here? How many people had walked by as it lay unnoticed? How long had it laid dormant with no sense of hope or purpose? What about it captured my attention? A random seashell had suddenly become the focus of everything that was in me.

With that still small voice that I hear clearer than anything in my life, He said, “Isn’t it spectacular?”

Well, I guess so Lord. But why, out of the hundreds of shells within my sight, why this one? It’s not even a whole shell. There are plenty that don’t even have the slightest crack.

Thus began the lesson on broken things. Yes, time had tossed it to and fro. Yes it had lines and cracks from the pressures of the sea and its luster had been dulled by the friction of the sand. Yes, there were places that it had been broken but it wasn’t destroyed. Many had overlooked it and some may even deem it useless now. But the truth was that God had made it and it belonged to Him.  He knew what it looked like in the beginning and in His eyes it was still as beautiful as ever. This shell had served many purposes in the past and on this day a new purpose had blossomed.  When, to me it appeared to be completely out of place, to God it was exactly where He wanted it to be.

That morning the most spectacular thing on the beach was this shell and of all the people there God wanted me to have it. Only He knew the things that were weighing in my heart. Only God knew how to penetrate the scars that at times seem to seethe as a fresh wound in my soul. He knew which shell to place before me and only He could show me the beauty that He sees in broken things. Without any ado for those around me, I stood there for a moment and wept. Tears that healed. Tears that refreshed. Tears that strengthened. Tears that reminded me that I wasn’t any different than that old, cracked spectacular shell.