love

Isaiah 60:1

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We are awake before the dawn.

The sun follows in step, divine hands pulling the earth to its place among the stars. 

Arise, shine, for your light has come!

A smile greets me.

Divine love evidenced in baby breath in the still of the morning. 

Outside my window, the water is glass.

Calm serenity proven in the peace I see…I feel. 

Arise, shine, for your light has come!

My spirit feels refreshed and renewed.

My focus, eternal, in the morning, committed in the day ahead. 

Ready to soar. 

Let the glory of the Lord be risen upon me. 

Arise, shine, for your light has come!

Isaiah 60:1

Sunlight and Stark

Adoration

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I’m sitting in a quiet room, baby in my arms. Soft and warm, nuzzled tightly to my chest breathing in. Tiny sighs and squeaks eek out occasionally as lips move to reflexive smile or the impulse to nurse though his mouth is empty. He sleeps and I adore him.

My husband lies across the room still, resting after a long day’s work. I watch him. Eyes closed, peaceful and strong and I am thankful. With strength and persistence he provides for us. So diligent, so faithful. Then loving, he comes home to me with smiles, a tender embrace and kind words. Now he sleeps and I adore him.

The sun is sitting low and casting light through the stained glass into my cozy little nest. the way it alters the hue and brings sparkle and shimmer to substance fills me with wonder. I don’t stop enough to admire the beauty.

Then he looks at me. Blue eyes lit with something deep and extraordinary. I become fully awake in the joy and love behind his eyes. I’m captivated. He is mine and I adore him.

 

Calm in the Midst of Chaos

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Wedding  “See! The winter is past, the rains are over and gone. Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come…Arise, come, my darling; my beautiful one, come with me” Song of Solomon 2:11-13

The past few weeks have been a bit chaotic. My husband and I have been running in a million different directions and juggling multiple projects and tasks until we hit the pillow each night in a state of soreness and exhaustion (the soreness from his being a carpenter and doing very physical work and from my being six months pregnant and achy). Most of the things we’ve been doing have been incredibly rewarding. Still some have just been requirements of life and business…I’d rather not spend my evenings pouring over bank statements and Quickbooks data, but it has to be done. Regardless, it’s been a whirlwind kind of month.

On February 4th, we celebrated our first wedding anniversary. It was such a wonderful time of refreshing for us. The preceding weekend had been jam-packed. We both worked that Monday morning and then at an appointed time, we met, left the world behind and focused on us. It was magical. I even forgot my cell phone at home (honestly, I didn’t mean to but I was so glad I did). There we were, just the two of us…a fabulous dinner, then a night away in the exact room we stayed in on our wedding night. We have a wonderful marriage everyday but there’s something about taking that extra time for one another, away from the world, that can be so valuable.

Shortly after breakfast the next morning, his phone started blowing up with small work emergencies and the world caught up with us. But for one night, we found the calm in the midst of the chaos. We found the ability to forget everything except for the things that matter the most, the covenant we have with each other, the remarkable blessing it is to find the one who God created just for you, the family and the life we’ve built together and our mutual commitment to Christ.

Today, on Valentine’s Day, I’m feeling especially sentimental. I see so clearly how all of the awful parts of my life, the pain I’ve endured, the mistakes I’ve made and the successes and victories I’ve claimed have brought me here to this moment when I can truly say that “The winter is past, the rains are over and gone. Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come”. I can put the world aside and come away with my beloved daily. Together, we can dive into the water of the word and be refreshed. Together, we can work to build a marriage others can see and know that true love and commitment still exists. Together, we can do anything. All of the doubts I once had have been washed away by the grace of God and the love of a man who loves me as Christ loves the church. Fairy tales do come true.

Most importantly, I believe that God desires that we would find such times with him. He, our beloved, invites us to come away with him daily…To find refuge in the peace and safety of his love. He calls to us in the midst of the chaos and reminds us that he is altogether lovely. He brings us to a season of singing where nothing from the past or present can begin to interfere with the way he loves us. He hides us in the palm of his hand, in the shadow of his wings, in the cleft of the rock and then whispers ““O my dove, in the clefts of the rock, In the secret places of the cliff, Let me see your face, Let me hear your voice; For your voice is sweet, And your face is lovely.” Song of Solomon 2:14.

I invite you to hear the call of your beloved today and come away with him to your secret place. Find time to love and be loved by the ultimate comforter, Jesus Christ.

Outside my bubble

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Do we really love? It’s so easy to talk about ideals. We know the right things to do and say; even so, we mess up and run our mouths or misstep into the wrong. Yet we say we’d die for Him. I’ve always believed I would without hesitation until this week when it hit me.

I sat in a room full. Heart full from the love of my friends, my comrades at arms next to me. Stomach full from the extra serving of lasagna someone insisted I eat for the baby (it may have been me, I can’t remember). A preacher on a video spoke with fervor and passion about rescuing the lost, those prisoners of war all around us who we so easily pass by and ignore. Yet we say we’d die for him.

In that moment something clicked within me. I realized that I have missed the point so many times. Deep down, I’m still the shy girl who has no idea where to begin a conversation so rather than fumble, I retreat. I don’t talk to strangers so I stay locked in my bubble of “church-ianity”…comfortable, safe, allowing God to use me in His house speaking and singing to those who know the way. Is that enough?

If I’m willing to die for him, shouldn’t I be willing to live for him? Outside of the church walls where I’ll certainly be rejected, where I’ll be challenged to do something profound with my faith, that’s when it matters most. Jesus told us to go into all the world making disciples of all men. He never asked us to stay in our comfort zones and avoid all non-believers. To do so would be an affront to everything he came to accomplish.

I committed to be different this week and he’s brought me so many opportunities to show his love to others who desperately need him. It’s scary! My heart is willing but in the moments when your dealing with very real issues and someone is crying out for help and answers from God whom they’ve never met and you represent, and your praying “God, please give me the right words because I’m just a broken and feeble vessel”; it’s then that the Spirit of God can begin to show himself. Hopefully I can hide I’m the background of his glory and watch while he sutures the wounded and brings life to those whose hearts desperately seek him. Hopefully, he’ll allow me to offer a hand to hold, a shoulder to lean on, a surrender of myself and my time to someone outside my little world.

So I’m leaving the sanctuary of my bubble and venturing out to the unknown, the wilderness where I bear the only light, walking with them as they find their way to the source of hope Jesus. I’m yielding my heart to truly love others with action. We can make a difference in this world. Here I am Lord, send me.

Christmas

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Here lies a wandering world, numbed by silence and lulled to slumber in the bed of their own consequences. Hearts yearning for “something more”, frustration and longing for love and satisfaction gripping them with fists of disillusionment. “I thought my life would be different.”

Glimmer of hope, Jupiter crowned in Regulus, star to cut the darkness brightly. King of all wrapped in cloak of skin, divinity set aside in submission to meager mortal. Love beyond comprehension. Inconceivable wonder. (You keep using that word, I do not think it means what you think it means.)

Care and protection of the Godhead assigned to lowly frame of girl and boy. Unspeakable mystery. “Be it unto me according to your word.” Prophecies of old fulfilled in one. Odds too numerous to imagine. Proof through faith and Science of a living God who set the heavens in motion for this moment.

Christmas tree, gift of God, hanging sinless in agony for the very ones who scourged him. Forgiving and zealous for the waiting world. Accepting the blame for our mistakes. Tree of life, glorious cross. Beauty from despair, newness from death. Lasting satisfaction and peace given freely from scarred hands of mercy.

I am eternally grateful.

Photo by Gino Santa Maria

Photo by Gino Santa Maria

White Washed Tombs

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I took a drive today to a place I once lived. Something once so familiar now screams of distance and abandon, of days long past and reminders of how far I’ve come.

Even the sky is dim framing the homes fallen to disrepair, forgotten or ignored by the “noble” ones; still occupied by dreamers or those who’ve given up, a little of both, who am I to say?

The middle of the street interrupted by medians that were created a few years ago by those seeking to rejuvenate or beautify the otherwise dismal. Live oaks and palm trees stand like proud pillars lending shade to the mass of flowers beneath. Anything to train the eye to ignore the reality and focus on the seemingly lovely.

Money spent to cover up instead of resolve. Funds allocated to appearance instead of wholeness and recovery. An attempt to buy hope for the broken instead of introducing the need to the one who IS hope, the answer, the truth.

Maybe that’s what we’ve become. White washed tombs who hide our need behind proud pillar smile and flowery words. Broken and bound within but perfumed and covered by manicured skin and rote responses, “I’m doing great! How are you?” “Blessed and highly favored” though the words lack sincerity and genuineness.

My heart breaks for the broken ones, the ones hidden behind showcases of beauty. Can we acknowledge the need and do something or do we drive by and focus on the flowers? Am I willing to allow my eyes to see? Am I broken for others and pouring out in prayer and kindness? Am I offering my hands and my heart or am I content with the covering?

Not just on the street among the drug bound and needy, but in the grocery store when I see someone who needs a smile and a word of encouragement. To the cashier whose day consisted of complaints and busy people. In the church where the people so often hide who they really are for fear of rejection (struggling with secret sin but too afraid to admit it and find healing)? Do I walk by and join the others, refusing to go deeper into the fray? Will I not be moved to compassion for another?

Am I a white washed tomb, who appears to have the answers but never provides a solution? Am I real? Do my words show the genuineness and compassion of a loving, infinite, savior and comforter who longs to mend the broken-hearted and restore the weak.

Lord, break my heart for what breaks yours. Here I am, send me.

On Changes and Eggs

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I love to get a good deal. It’s almost a hobby. I say almost, because the truth is, I’m only obsessive about it sometimes and then I get bored. I guess I’m like that in a lot of areas, but I digress. One deal I recently ran into allowed me to get several new magazine subscriptions for free! Big smile!  FREE!!!!  (Mental picture of me standing on my dining room table screaming “Freedom” William Wallace style…don’t worry I didn’t really do that). I snagged some magazines for my hubby and a few that I’d never read but seemed relatively intriguing. I totally dig reading and sometimes crave the randomness found in a magazine so I was thrilled.

The crazy thing that I’m realizing though is that as I peruse through the articles before me, I find myself inspired in so many different ways. I’m instantly ready to try something new. Not earth shattering, morality, changing kind of stuff of course. As everyone who knows me can tell you I’m stubborn and opinionated about virtually everything of importance. Rather, I’m ready to try new things in the mundane areas of my life. I’m willing to completely reinvent my hairdo on a whim or change my wardrobe just to experiment. I’ll want to redecorate my house for no reason, other than maybe the kids left a mess so rather than just clean it, I’ll redo it ALL.

Maybe I should find some crazy art deco piece at a garage sale and paint the house to match or use it to inspire a new outfit or cut up an old outfit and sew it back together with remnants from other outfits to catch the spirit of the piece that so uniquely expresses me…or who I want to be.

I realize this sounds incredibly crazy. But the beauty of it is found in the fact that I am allowed to be who I am. I am free to be ME and I guess a part of me is still unburying who that really is from under my former life. I try not to talk too much about my past, but the truth is, here on the other side looking back I gain so much perspective and appreciation for where I am now.

I had an epiphany last week while stealing eggs from my husband. I cannot make that sentence make sense without a little bit of back-story, so indulge me.

My ex husband was extremely controlling (understatement alert). I wasn’t allowed to eat certain foods because he didn’t like them. That even sounds weird to me as I type it, but it was my life. Rather than fight and suffer the consequences of arguing with him, I ate my eggs scrambled for TEN years! (There were a myriad of other issues far more extreme than this that led to our divorce – disclaimer – I didn’t divorce over eggs…moving on). After the wedding, so many things that were uniquely me were forced into isolation. I had to hide who I was in so many areas for so long that I cannot describe the freedom that comes with being able to breathe again.

My daughter once told me that when I started dating my husband, there were things she thought were an act for his benefit that she later realized were actually the real me who she’d never known. A sad and scary sentence but it is so true. I am now a completely free woman who is married to her hero and best friend and who can eat her eggs any way she likes, which brings me full circle.

Last week, James was eating his breakfast and I stole a bite of his eggs (cooked over medium) and remembered that my entire life, minus ten ridiculous years, I ate my eggs over medium and now I am free to eat them that way again.

I can also wear clothes that I like. I can keep my hair short, long, medium, wavy, straight or in a bun. I can sing as loudly as I want in my own home. I can rearrange the furniture or paint the kitchen or cook for hours. I can work or clean or write or read or play my guitar without repercussions. I am FREE!!!

I’ve also learned that allowing myself to hide from who I am is insulting to me and to God who made me just like this and who cares about my silly thoughts. He loves me for me. My husband loves me for me. I am happy.

Majesty

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Wading deeply into light (formless substance we are unable to hold still more solid than any reality)

Your cloak composed of starlight

Bright fire from your eyes escapes to cover the earth with heat

Majestic you rise to take your place

A realm man cannot fathom

Vast beyond dream yet existing in…on…around

You only, are everything

I am small but I am yours

Yesterday morning while coming home from taking my daughter to school, I was struck by the majesty of this sunrise (this photo doesn’t even begin to capture it but it was the best I could do while driving). The sun stood low in the sky but was larger than I’d ever seen it. I couldn’t help but worship as I thought about the son of the living God who watches over us with His infinite love and grace rising to take his place on the throne of my heart.

I’m continually awed by the thought that the God who stretched out the heavens with his hands, who spoke everything into being, loves ME enough to reach into my life and redeem me. I am so small in the grand scheme of things but he knows & loves ME. That baffles me.

I am in His thoughts and they are good! “For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope.” Jeremiah 29:11

He rejoices over me, sings over me and comforts me. “The Lord your God in your midst, The Mighty One, will save; He will rejoice over you with gladness, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing.”  Zephaniah 3:17

I believe if we ever really got ahold of that we would never be the same. I am comforted daily by a comforter who wraps me up in his presence and quiets me with his love. It doesn’t get better than that.

I don’t serve God out of fear or to obtain a “get out of hell free” card. I serve the Lord because I am captured and amazed by a love that lights my darkness and intimately adores me. I serve the Lord because His life is abundant. I serve the Lord because I can’t imagine loving him more but I earnestly desire to spend the rest of my life growing in love for him.

All he ever asked for was all of me and I intend to hold nothing back. That is the only reasonable thing I can do.

 

 

 

50 Years

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She wore white. Her simple white sundress flowed almost poetically in the wind as she walked along the shore.  It seemed fitting to wear the same color she’d worn on this day so long ago. A large, floppy hat sat atop her head attempting to stop the wind and UV rays from assaulting her long, stringy, gray locks and still freckled shoulders.  She felt as if she were in a dream.

Despite all the changes 50 years had brought, this place was still the same. The years and waves had slowly changed the shape and contour of the shoreline but she could still feel him, his strong arms wrapped around her, the comfort of his chest as she lay her head against him when she’d truly relaxed for the first time in years. The way he softly kissed her neck and breathed her in deeply. She missed him but she was so thankful. 

Soon she’d be with him singing praises beside him on the other side. For now, she would celebrate her 50th anniversary. She sat down and began to write

I can’t say I don’t remember the days before you. Their memory makes yours even sweeter. To think that I was once broken, shattered and almost useless. To think that I almost gave up. Then there was you…A hero sent straight from the ultimate hero. You turned my sad songs to rubbish. You turned my weeping to nonsense. You made me believe again. You woke me from slumber and numb to life and deep emotion. Though it seems cliche, you rescued me. I never knew love before you. I couldn’t even fathom the deepest of loves from heaven itself until there was you. Suddenly, life was alive. Suddenly, color had substance. Words lost their meaning because none of them could express what I meant to say or the depth of my emotion. In the place of gray you brought more joy than I could have ever dreamed. I am so grateful for the many glorious years we shared. I will always love you!

With that, she closed her eyes and drank in the warmth upon her face. She breathed deep and knew she’d truly lived because she’d truly loved. She prayed a simple prayer of thankfulness. This was a glorious day.

Jaimie Dandridge