Shelleen Weaver's Blog

Anchor people.

Throughout my life, when a storm has tossed me into a heap, and I don’t know which way is up, I think about my anchor people. You know, those people whose lives refute the lies that the enemy uses our circumstances to convince us to believe. Like: You’re not loved. You’re not good enough. You can’t ever trust again…they will fail you every time. There’s no such thing as a “happy marriage”. Fill in your blank here with whatever the enemy has railed at you. I’m sure you know the tape. But that’s when I think of my “Anchor People”.

Anchor People- Those people whose lives defy those lies. Those people, who although imperfect, demonstrate the heart of God to me in ways so genuinely that even when I’m up-side-down, I can grab ahold of the truth their lives testify to: That God is good.

The Bible talks about “The Great Cloud of Witnesses” who have gone on before us. Their time here on this earth is over, and they have beheld the face of Jesus. So beautiful- So much more beautiful than our earthly minds could comprehend. Nor can we comprehend how greatly they must anticipate the day when we join them there. So just like a group of people cheering a runner on as they fight to cross a finish line, they now cheer us on- Heavenward.

Well the crowd in our cloud just got bigger.

 

 

Growing up, we attended church with the Burns family. Don and Irene had 9 children of their own- two beautiful daughters and 7 rambunctious, fun-loving boys. The more the merrier I suppose, because they added to their number 2 more boys who needed a home. And merry they were. I don’t remember a time when I ever set foot in that house and someone wasn’t making music. I loved hearing Don play the sax and claronet in church. They even built a recording studio in their big old country home where any one of the boys could jump on whatever instrument was handy; kind of like a football player that could cover any position on the field. And they were, and still are, good. Really good. Lots of music rang out from the walls of their home.

So did laughter. The stories this family can tell. They should be written in a book. Oh wait. They were. Irene wrote one. Her boys call it her giant tract. (Some of you remember those.) It was all about their family. And Jesus.

 

Irene teaching some of her (many) grandchildren about the Prodigal Son, using the same story board she used to tell me this story when she was my Sunday school teacher. Don in the background with his faithful dog.

You don’t have a conversation with Irene without experiencing the love of Jesus. Not the “pushed-on-you” kind; More like the “melt on you like warm honey” kind that overflows from a heart that is so full of His love, it can’t be contained there. I’ve never known a more joyful and loving soul. When you are around Irene, you know Jesus loves you. She’ll make sure of it. Like the police officer and coroner who visited their home this morning.

 

Don, never without his fantastic sense of humor and faithful dog, at one of their famous “porch parties” two summers ago, when I saw them last.

 

Don, 85, and the dear love of her life, went to sleep last night and woke up beholding the face of Jesus. I can only imagine the celebratory welcome he received from our Father for the life he so well-lived. And what was Irene doing? Telling the police officer and coroner about her Jesus. Yep. Imagine.

 

Don and Irene on the front porch of their home where they raised a family that was a “very special family” to everyone who knew them.

This is what I mean when I say anchor people. And I’m So. Very. Thankful. for their lives, so well-lived that they are among those in my life whose influence refutes the lies the enemy reels and testifies to the truth of God’s love and mercy, throwing kindling on the ashes when my hope’s flame has nearly been snuffed out.

And although I grieve (for myself and their family who in this case, feels like mine-my brother was lucky enough to marry one of those beautiful girls) when they enter their reward, I’m inspired to keep running. They set the bar high, but prove it can be done. We can keep running; Keep loving; Keep trusting; Keep giving; Keep believing; Keep hoping…in Jesus: The author and finisher of our faith. How grateful I am to God for not only telling me of his love for me in his Word, but for being so generous as to put anchors like Don and Irene in my life who demonstrate it well.

Well done Don Burns. And thank you. We miss you already. What a day of rejoicing it must be.

Click below to hear Don (on his sax) and his son Dave (guitar) perform “Above All”.

IMG_0604 4

 

 

In an effort to give my brother and I a wholesome country upbringing, when I was six years old, my family moved from a lovely four bedroom home on a few acres in the Poconos that was built by my grandfather to our 77 acres of hunting land in Potter County, Pennsylvania. The mile-long “driveway”, which our Vermont relatives affectionately named the “goat path”, wound it’s way to the cabin at the top of the mountain (pictured above). It was one room (12′ * 24′) with two sets of bunk beds built into the walls. Warmed by a wood stove in the corner that was welded together by my dad and lit by either candles or a gas lantern in the evenings, the only water it boasted of was carried by hand from the spring below. And if you needed to use the facilities, that meant a walk up the back path to the outhouse.

We did have a shower though. Water from a spring could be fed by way of a generator on the back of my father’s pick up truck into a 55 gallon barrel mounted with a slight tilt high upon a wooden frame. There was a propane tank underneath that got the chill out of that cold spring water before being manually released from the spigot welded into the lower end of the drum. One more detail worth mentioning about this “nature spa” is that it stood about fifteen feet behind our cabin on the edge of the woods. The pink, plastic shower curtain stapled to the frame only stretched around three of the four sides, giving the bather an Eden-like experience among the deer, the birds, and oh yes, the gypsy moths gorging themselves on all things leafy and green. Our food was stored safely out of mouse-reach in an old-fashioned ice box inside, and we had a gas “kitchen” on the front porch.

Like it or sometimes not, my brother and I were our only regular playmates, since the nearest neighbor children were miles away, but there was no shortage of amusement. We had tire swing bumper wars, woods to explore, trees to climb, and forts to build. That mile-long driveway proved to be a fantastic bike path, and even better, some fierce sled-riding. Even the typically mundane routines were fun. Brushing your teeth on the porch, for example, provided for great competitions of seeing who could spit the farthest.

We lived in that cabin from June of 1983 until the first hard snow (see below) chased us into the far-from-finished home my dad was building at the “yonder” side of the field below the woods that surrounded it.

 

 

Growing up in that environment instilled in me a deep fondness for God’s handiwork. I loved taking walks through the woods laden with ferns and drinking in the delicious aroma from wildflower bouquets of buttercups, paintbrushes, black-eyed Susans, and Queen Anne’s lace that could be found in abundance on the edges of the tree line. There is not much that can rival witnessing an evening firefly show on the mountain top or being serenaded to sleep on a summer night by a cricket and peeper chorus. (Oh, how I miss my peepers!)

Many of you know I’m a bit of a singer, but my first concerts looked very different than now. The field in front of our house was the venue where no microphone was necessary with God-engineered acoustics. My voice traveled through those mountains creating the most exhilarating echos, and I was free there to sing at the top of my lungs without a thought of being overheard.

I remember shouting things like:

“Hello!…Hello!…Hello!”

“Hi!… Hi!… Hi!”

“You’re pretty!…You’re pretty!…You’re pretty!”

“Thank you!…Thank you!… Thank you!”

It was fun to hear my words bounce back. And knowing they would, I was sure to say something I wanted to hear!

I no longer live in rural Pennsylvania, although I must admit that my heart often longs for a walk through those lush woods. But I still have echos. And my children hear them most. For better or for worse, there is no one we influence more. Have you ever heard yourself and thought, “I sound just like my mother (or father)?  Our children will too someday. This is a point to ponder…

 

David wrote in Psalm 141:3,

Set a guard, O Lord, over my mouth; Keep watch over the door of my lips.

 

James, the brother of Jesus said,

All kinds of animals, birds, reptiles and sea creatures are being tamed and have been tamed by mankind, but no human being can tame the tongue.         ~James 3:7-8a

 

Because our children are shaped by and so often repeat what they experience in their formative years, may we often take a step back, and pray along with Moses who said,

“Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.”     ~ Psalms 90:12

 

Our time here is fleeting. What impact will we leave? What echos will be reverberating long after our voices fall silent? I pray for each one of us, myself included, that we gain a heart of wisdom and become more intentional than ever to create echos that leave a blessing on our children and all whom our lives influence and impact.

Usually this is the place where I try to bring home the message by posting a song. But I have something else to share with you today. Speaking of echos and repeating what we hear, I am so delighted to announce that my first children’s picture book, entitled Love Bird, will be available for purchase on Amazon, October 10th! It’s the first in my Fruit Fables series. Here is your sneak peak at the cover, as well as the blurb and an early endorsement!

 

 

 

If you are “that mom” who hides pureed kale in your children’s chocolate smoothies, or if the idea, “Aesop meets Bob and Larry” gives you a thrill, then this series is for you!

Fruit Fables is a collection of nine children’s stories that uses the adventures of talking animals to illustrate the godly character traits the Apostle Paul talks about in Galatians, known as The Fruit of the Spirit.

In Love Bird, the Squirrel family faces a dilemma when the new neighbor – a boisterous and snarky mockingbird – moves into their tree. Their warm welcome is met with sarcasm and rude behavior. Before long the whole neighborhood takes offense. What should they do? 

The Squirrel family calls an emergency backyard meeting and the neighbors agree to their plan of action. In the end, peace is restored to the backyard, and everyone learns that love is more than just a fuzzy feeling, but sometimes a choice we must will ourselves to carry out.

 

Shelleen’s writing is a banquet of spiritual truth in a playfully rich recipe of rhythms and words. Your child will choose this book from the shelf, climb onto your lap, and snuggle in for times of captivating tales of truth in action. It’s fruitful, and it’s FUN! Fruit Fables brought smiles to a grown-up like me and will positively delight the young!

~Jeff Bender, Sight & Sound Theater Producing Group Writer/Director/Producer

 

You likely won’t be surprised to see (throughout this book and those that follow) many references to forest critters, cricket/peeper choruses, and the like. And although these stories are both beautifully illustrated, rhythmic, and fun, they preach – especially to me. I don’t write these from the perspective of someone who has mastered the simple, yet deep truths they impart. But instead as a daughter, inspired by the handiwork and influence of my Father, both from his Word, as well as from the still, small voice I sometimes am quiet enough to hear. And although I undoubtably fail miserably more than I succeed, my desire is that when others look at (or someday, back on) my life, they recognize who my Father is, because the fruits of his Spirit are evident in me. May we all take more time to hear his voice and make room for his Holy Spirit to grow more fruit in the garden of our hearts.

One more thing:

If you should decide to get ahold of a copy of Love Bird, I’d be delighted to hear your feedback. You can reach me via my website anytime at www.shelleenweaver.com.

With love,

Shelleen

When I was a little girl, my grandparents lived in what used to be an old boarding house in the rolling green mountains of Braintree, Vermont. In its prime it was a stagecoach stop, back when that was the modern means of travel, complete with an attached horse barn and a five-holer backhouse. What is that, you ask? In simpler terms, the bathroom. From the far end of the spacious kitchen you could access the tack room that lead to the horse barn, or you could hang a right and walk down the hallway. The last door to the left consisted of a small room with a five-holer nestled into the wall. (Outhouses were outside. Back houses were attached to the back of the house.) Indoor plumbing had come along by the time I did, but I fondly remember the room being home to one of my grandparent’s dogs and her sweet new litter of pups. Years later, when my uncle had moved into the home, the horse barn had to be removed and with it went the back house. Strange as this may seem (I’ll own it lol!), I wanted it. It took a bit of tracking down, but even though I ended up paying a premium for it, it is now proudly displayed, much to my husband’s dismay, on our front porch. 

A peek inside the backhouse when it was still in tact, but clearly not in use (by humans at least!). The horse barn was on the other side of the wall behind the five-holer. No dividers. Can you imagine the awkward conversations? If the walls could talk…!

 

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The Five-Holer now on my front porch.

It’s one of those things you either get or you just don’t, but perhaps my affinity for this “old toilet” also has something to do with the fact that for a season of my young life, long before off-grid, tiny-house living was cool, my family lived in a one-room cabin with no electricity or running water. How and why we ended up there and made it work is another blog for another day, but suffice it to say, I’m well-acquainted with outdoor facilities.

Another memory I hold dear happened often in the sitting room, just off the parlor of that same great house where my grandmother played her piano. She hadn’t much time for extracurricular activities. The property had long since become a dairy farm, and Grammy’s hands were constantly busy, though you could track her down quickly, for she was always whistling. However, once in a  while, her brother, Uncle Andy, would come for a visit. He always brought his fiddle, and Grammy would take a break from her busy work to sit down at that old piano where they would play together like when they were children. Uncle Andy was always ready to take a request, my particular  favorite was Pop Goes The Weasel. But mostly, they played the old hymns.

Grammy loved it when her grandchildren would sit down and play (more like bang) on her piano. It’s been 21 years since she left this earth, but one of her grandchildren is still making music on those old ivories. Sometimes I wonder if God allows us to know much of what is going on down on earth once we get to Heaven. Perhaps it’s unlikely. But I like to imagine that once in a while she catches wind of one of the melodies I’m lifting to Him from her piano and smiles.

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Me at age 11 in my classic (and somewhat painful to look at) big 80’s glasses and feathered hair) with my Grammy Flint. Isn’t she just precious?

As mentioned before, I don’t read music. My mom made several attempts to put me in piano lessons, but my eyes struggled with the lines and dots on the pages. I can still hear her calling from the kitchen, “Shelly (my childhood nickname), that’s not the song you’re supposed to be practicing.” I was making up my own. 

But even though I’m no Tchaikovsky, I’m sure glad that old piano was handed down to me. It’s arguably the most precious “thing” that I own (yes, more so than the five-holer), not only for the sentimental reasons attached to it, but because it’s been a place of healing for me. No matter the storm that’s raging, that piano bench sits right in it’s eye, because I meet Jesus there. I’ve learned to cast my cares at his feet at that piano. It’s the place I express my sorrows, anger, joys, and love for him best. It’s the place I fall into his arms. And it’s the place from which I sit and record most of the songs I post for you here on this blog. 

So I thought it might be fun to turn the camera around and show you my old piano. It’s not a grand piano, but because it was my grandmother’s, it’s grand to me. I hope you are blessed at my piano too. I hope the songs that pour out of my heart there touch yours. And I hope that when life’s storms are raging around you, they will draw you into God’s presence, because that is where we find strength and healing, and fall deeper in love with our Savior.

What about you? Do you have a special place you go to meet with God? Is it out in nature perhaps? I’d love to hear about it. 

Enjoy my “show and tell” about my piano in the video below, along with my song entitled, Old Piano. I hope you enjoy it, but more so, I hope it prompts you to go find your secret place and sit awhile in God’s presence. 

One more thing: If this blog blesses you, would you share it? I’d be grateful.

Old Piano (demo and song)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZSLZ_...

 

Featuring “The Last Say” -Original music by Shelleen Weaver

 

Photo by Jachan DeVol on Unsplash

Mary Magdalene is, hands down, my favorite female character in all of Scripture. When I get to Heaven, I’m going to spend the first thousand years captivated in the eyes of my Jesus. Then of course there will be the reunion of all my friends and loved ones who have gone on before. But then…then, I’m going to stalk Mary Magdalene. That’s right. She doesn’t know it yet, but we are going to be BFF’s. Here’s why.

She adored Him. [Jesus]

Most of us have been taught that she was a harlot. And perhaps that is so. And although that is a likely assumption, the Bible doesn’t specifically say that. It does tell us that she had a bad reputation before Jesus came along and drove 7 demons out of her. Specifically, she is referred to as a woman of “ill repute”. No matter what her rap sheet consisted of, (I mean…7 demons…7), she was one despised, hot mess before her life radically collided with Jesus. And from that moment on, every fiber of her soul was sold out to him.

In Luke’s gospel account, we learn that women travelled with Jesus and his disciples, tending to their needs. Someone was doing the laundry and making the meals when Jesus wasn’t feeding the multitudes himself. These women often bought the groceries too when he wasn’t pulling coins out of guppies. And Mary of Magdala was among them.

Luke’s Account…

After this, Jesus traveled about from one town and village to another, proclaiming the Good News of the kingdom of God. The twelve were with him, and also some women who had been cured of evil spirits and diseases: Mary (called Magdalene) from whom seven demons had come out; Joanna, the wife of Chuza, the manager of Herod’s household; Susanna; and many others. These women were helping to support them out of their own means. ~Luke 8 1:4 (NIV)

But what made her world-famous was her unapologetic display of affection 6 days before, unbeknownst to her (or was it), her very soul was shattered into a million pieces. It looked like this:

A Pharisee invited Jesus and his disciples to dinner at his home along with some other big players in the upper echelon of society. This was no backyard picnic. It was a much stuffier group than that. In fact, the host was too preoccupied sizing Jesus up (with all his intellectual worldly wisdom) than to offer his guest of honor the cultural norm of that day – a kiss (the traditional greeting), a basin of water (to wash the dust and dirt from his sandaled feet), and oil for his head (olive oil was used to soften parched skin). No doubt the conversation consisted of Jesus being peppered with loaded questions in typical Pharisaical fashion when…

[Enter Mary Magdalene]

She can’t… She won’t contain her emotion. Completely unfazed by the judgmental piety surrounding her (perhaps her weeping drowned out the harsh words they railed against her), she began to break things.

 

First, she broke the rules.




Photo by Moritz Mentges on Unsplash

Women did NOT touch men in that day. Unthinkable. And not only did she touch him, she drenched his feet with her wellspring of tears. This wasn’t a scene out of Rapunzel where a single crystal teardrop falls from the eye of the princess. No, this was an ugly cry. Her face was contorted. Her nose was running. You get the picture. And then she started kissing his feet. (That really is love folks. Feet are well, feet.) Then she dried them with her hair. (Um…that should be veiled.) This unbridled, and in their staunch opinions, unacceptable display of affection prompted immediate criticism of both she and Jesus.

When the Pharisee who had invited him saw this, he said to himself, “If this man were a prophet, he would know who is touching him and what kind of woman she is—that she is a sinner.” ~Luke 7:39 (NIV)

 

Then she broke a bottle.




Photo by chuttersnap on Unsplash

Then Mary took about a pint of pure nard, an expensive perfume; she poured it on Jesus’ feet… ~John 12:3:a (NIV)

This of course, lead to an eruption of protests- notably from Judas Iscariot, because he was certainly above reproach:

“Why wasn’t this perfume sold and the money given to the poor? It was worth a year’s wages.” ~John 12:5 (NIV)

And here it comes…

Aware of this, Jesus said to them, “Why are you bothering this woman? She has done a beautiful thing to me. The poor you will always have with you, but you will not always have me. When she poured this perfume on my body, she did it to prepare me for burial.  Truly I tell you, wherever this gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her.” ~Matthew 27:10-13 (NIV)

The part of this passage that completely wreck’s me is when Jesus says, “She has done a beautiful thing to me.” I want to touch the heart of Jesus that way, and somehow live my life so that the second thing I hear upon my arrival to Heaven after the Father’s “Well Done, my good and faithful servant…” is Jesus leaning over, nodding his head and saying, “She has done a beautiful thing {for} me.” (Mic drop.)

 

She also broke records.




Photo by Taylor Wilcox on Unsplash

Did you catch what Jesus said about wherever the gospel is preached throughout the world, that what she did would be told in memory of her? Did you notice that I’m not referencing this story from just one of the 4 gospels? Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John all recorded this story in their accounts of the life and ministry of Jesus. And here we are talking about her today. For all their pomp and circumstance, loud prayers, large phylactery boxes tied to their foreheads, and tassels on their robes, I’ve never heard anything flattering said about the Pharisees. But Mary Magdalene’s legacy lives on. This is bigger than being in the Guinness Book of World Records. She is honored by the Messiah himself in the best-selling book of all times. But there’s more.

Fast-forward to just over a week later. Jesus had been mocked, exposed (as in publically striped of his clothing), torchered until unrecognizable then murdered in the most agonizing way conceivable. And Mary Magdalene, unlike the 11 remaining disciples, had stayed put. She didn’t run away. To whom would she run? This was her Lord. She watched in horror as he drew his last breath with which he cried out a declaration of his work being complete. Then she watched him die.

She. Was. Devastated.




Photo by Natalie Breeze on Unsplash

The next day being Passover, forced her to stay away, but Mary was up before the dawn of what would become the most glorious day in history. She went to the tomb where he had been laid, only to find further devastation. His body was not there. (They killed him. Couldn’t they just leave his body alone?) She ran to tell the disciples:

Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene went to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the entrance. So she came running to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one Jesus loved, and said, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we don’t know where they have put him!”

So Peter and the other disciple started for the tomb.  Both were running, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first.  He bent over and looked in at the strips of linen lying there but did not go in. Then Simon Peter came along behind him and went straight into the tomb. He saw the strips of linen lying there,  as well as the cloth that had been wrapped around Jesus’ head. The cloth was still lying in its place, separate from the linen. Finally the other disciple, who had reached the tomb first, also went inside. He saw and believed.  (They still did not understand from Scripture that Jesus had to rise from the dead.) Then the disciples went back to where they were staying.

Imagine this scene…

Now Mary stood outside the tomb crying. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb and saw two angels in white, seated where Jesus’ body had been, one at the head and the other at the foot.

They asked her, “Woman, why are you crying?”

“They have taken my Lord away,” she said, “and I don’t know where they have put him.” At this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not realize that it was Jesus.

He asked her, “Woman, why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?”

Thinking he was the gardener, she said, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will get him.”

Jesus said to her, “Mary.”

She turned toward him and cried out in Aramaic, “Rabboni!” (which means “Teacher”).

Jesus said, “Do not hold on to me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father. Go instead to my brothers and tell them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’”

Mary Magdalene went to the disciples with the news: “I have seen the Lord!” And she told them that he had said these things to her. ~John 20:1-18 (NIV)

But wait…

Do you realize the magnitude of compassion she moved Jesus to here? Jesus was literally on his way from the grave to see his (and our) Father. The greatest pain he felt on that cross was the separation from him. When the sin of the world was placed on his shoulders, the Father had to turn and look away.

And at three in the afternoon Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” (which means “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”). ~Mark 15:34 (NIV)

To say that he couldn’t wait to be reunited with the Fathers a massive understatement. Imagine his anticipation. But wait…someone was crying. It was Mary Magdalene.

She had broken something again…his heart.




Photo by Jamie Street on Unsplash

Moved with compassion on this woman who loved him so deeply, he literally made a pit-stop between the grave and Heaven where he would see his Father and receive his glorified body. He knew he’d be back for some final instructions to the disciples and appearances before a few large crowds before he would return until the appointed time and send the Holy Spirit. But her love for him moved him so deeply, he couldn’t wait another moment. He had to put her sorrow to an end.

But she wasn’t done breaking things. Not quite yet. Did you see it in the last passage I referenced? “Go instead to my brothers and tell them…” Right there it is. I propose that little Mary – the woman of “ill repute” whose broken life collided with the lover of her soul was the first missionary, commissioned to spread the Good News by non other that Jesus the Messiah himself! Man was she good at breaking things.

This time, she broke the mold. -Yep, we are going to hang out.




Photo by S.Ratanak on Unsplash

So this Easter, as you process the grief you likely feel about not being surrounded by loved ones (to celebrate or those who have passed on), as well as the uncertainty we face in this current world-wide pandemonium, think of Mary Magdalene and how she must have felt celebrating Passover 2020 years ago. And realize that although she thought her world had ended, a new day was dawning.

Look up my friends. It has dawned, and we live on the other side of the cross. We belong to and are adored by the God of the Universe. Remind your heart and someone else’s today that he Is Risen just like he said.

Original Music

Enjoy the song below entitled, The Last Say where we will hear from (what I imagine to be) Mary Magdalene’s perspective of those three devastating and glorious days that bought back the debt we couldn’t pay so that one sweet day, we can fall to our knees before our Savior and cry out, “Rabboni”!

And how about you? Whose life grabs at your heart, inspires, convicts, or encourages you the most in Scripture? I’d love to hear who and why? And if this post inspires you, would you consider sharing it with your friends? If you are new to my blog, and would like to hear more, you can sign up to follow it on my website. Happy Easter to each one of you. He is Risen!

 

The Last Say




https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MDNeW...

Photo by Natalya Zaritskaya

My best friend and her husband are heroes – for real. They are foster parents, which in my opinion, is one of the hardest, selfless, and at times most gut-wrenching callings. The emotional roller coaster you avail your heart to when you open it to these little ones brings moments of celebration marbled with circumstances that can leave you completely undone.

One of their recent placements was an 11 year old girl. For valid reasons I’m sure, she was leery of them for several weeks. Despite all of their concerted efforts to communicate to her that she was wanted and safe, she remained distant – her guard staunchly in place.

But then one day there was a visit with some of my friend’s nieces.

While they played, the little girls raved about how lucky this foster daughter was for getting to stay with their Aunt and Uncle, and talked about how much they love it when they get to come for visits and sleepovers. Unwittingly, these little girls were able to communicate to this child what all the loving efforts of my friend and her husband couldn’t: These people are good, kind, and even fun. She can trust them. They love her, and she is wanted.

Here is what struck me. Even though she was experiencing their love and care firsthand, it took someone like her – other little girls- to convince her that these wonderful people really are wonderful.

And we are no different.

Every day, we live in a world full of the blessings and goodness of our faithful God. And every day, He is present, trying to show us that He is good, kind, even fun. We can trust Him. He loves us and wants a personal relationship with us. Yet, so often we have a warped opinion of His goodness, often based on pain caused by others or even resulting from our own poor choices.

Photo by Liv Bruce

Here is where you and I come in. Just like those little nieces, we get to engage with those who are lost and hurting, and tell them what a good and loving Heavenly Father we have. Because just like that little foster girl, they need to hear it from someone they relate to; whose opinion they trust.

What a privilege.

Not everyone is called to be a foster parent – whew! I do know the task of taking in a child with special needs who is not my own. It’s not for the faint of heart. However, we are all tasked with the privilege of demonstrating the heart of God to those in our sphere of influence.

Photo by Shelleen – which is why it’s sideways…ugh!

I’m excited to tell you about a creative way I believe God has given me to do just that. I am right now elbow deep in the process of launching my own publishing company – Haste Laud Press. Remember the old Christmas hymn “What Child is This”? Many of us have sung it dozens of times, I’m sure. But did you ever wonder what it means when we sing, “Haste! Haste to bring Him laud”? Laud is an old word which means to praise, honor, extol, and give glory. Many of you know me as a singer/songwriter, speaker, and blogger, but next year I will be launching the first of nine stories in my new book series. Fruit Fables is a collection of Children’s stories that uses the adventures of talking animals to unpack God’s character found in Galatians 5:22-23, known as the Fruit of the Spirit. By observing fun and relatable animals learn to apply these attributes to their lives, children will be introduced to the heart of the Father while seeing tangibly how to apply them to their own.

Would you pray for me? These are uncharted waters. There is much that goes into launching and successfully marketing books. I want to avoid errors and costly mistakes, but more than that, I want this project to succeed. What will success look like? Little ones learning that God is good, kind, and even fun. They can trust Him. He loves them, and He wants a personal relationship with them.

Perhaps you are thinking, Well, that’s great Shelleen, You go ahead and haste to bring Him laud, but I don’t sing and write stories. I’m not that creative. Really? Creativity’s facial expressions are endless. But can I just say that regardless of how you rate your creativity, each one of us has a story to tell? The road you have traveled to find and know God’s heart and all the goodness that pours from it is uniquely your own.

And only you can give a first hand account of it.

What if every believer began to do just that? What if we shifted our focus from the present hurdles we are facing and took a look in the rear-view mirror at God’s goodness and faithfulness throughout our lives? I think a couple things would happen:

We would encourage ourselves and grow our faith concerning any present struggles.

We would testify more freely to others of God’s faithfulness concerning their own.

And those that don’t know Him – they just might begin to open their hearts to the reality that He is good, kind, and even fun. They can put their trust in Him. He loves them and wants a personal relationship with them.

What a joy it is to belong to Him. Let’s be ready for the opportunities placed before us every day to share our stories and represent His heart well to those who need “someone like them” to tell them – or show them by demonstrating His character or the Fruit of His Spirit growing in our own lives that He is good. He is so very good.

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Click below to hear an original song entitled, For Life. And if you know someone who might be encouraged by this or other posts, please share. Also, I sure do love feedback. I seem to get more messages through emails and facebook than posts in the comment section below. But feel free to start a conversation. I’d love to be encouraged by your story too.

One more thing: If this is your first visit to my site, welcome! To follow my posts and publishing progress, enter your email on my homepage at www.shelleenweaver.com.

 

Silence doesn’t come naturally to me. I love to talk, I love to laugh, and I love to sing. And if I’m in a confined space where it might be annoying to do so, I usually can’t help but hum. Don’t get me wrong, I do enjoy the quiet. I prefer silence over white or background noise. I have relented to my husband’s need to sleep with a fan on, but oh, how I miss falling asleep to a peeper and cricket chorus drifting through the open window on the breath of the cool night air.

What I’m saying is that although I love and prefer to listen and engage with the gentle sounds of nature as opposed to manufactured noise, I myself am not naturally quiet.

Some of you have asked (and thank you – makes a blogger feel good) why the silence of late on this blog.

If you read my post in March or listened to my corresponding song, “Baby Steps”, you may remember me talking about a little one taking her first steps. Spurred by his encouragement, she successfully stumbles into her daddy’s safe arms followed by the exhilaration of temporary flight as he tosses her in the air, before catching her and holding her close to his heart – all the while telling her how proud he is of his big girl. And that’s all it takes. What had moments before required much coxing and was answered with hesitant faith, now is met with clamorous giggles for “More!”

I couldn’t have given a better word picture of what I was experiencing in my walk with God, and so the story continues…

I can assure you that “More! More!” is one prayer that will not seemingly fall of deaf ears. The Father loves that heart cry. He waits for it. He longs for it. He gave His Son over 2,000 years ago in anticipation of it. Be assured that if you are reaching for Him, you will not be left wanting.

I grew up in the church and have loved Jesus for as long as I can remember. Yet unbeknownst to me, I would now say that I was a contented crawler. The problem with crawling is that treasures lay just beyond reach – namely, greater intimacy with God. The realization that there are greater depths to what I love was enough to coax me past my hesitation, and onto my feet to take some wobbly steps toward the Father. Then just like that baby, find myself whisked into the arms of deeper love than I had yet understood and left me clamoring for “More”!

That’s why the silence. When God begins to reveal Himself to you in new and deeper ways, I don’t care how verbal you are by nature, like Job, you find yourself standing back in awestruck silence.

Then Job answered the Lord:  “I am unworthy—how can I reply to you?  I put my hand over my mouth.  I spoke once, but I have no answer—    twice, but I will say no more.”                           ~Job 40:3-5 (NIV)

You know you have made a good meal for your family when the table talk ceases and everyone is focused on devouring their food. It’s hard to talk when your mouth is full of deliciosity. (I know that’s not a word, but it should be.) And that’s me of late. In response to that cry for “More!”, God has set a table before me in the presence of my enemies and my cup is running over. My mouth is so full of His goodness that I have been rendered speechless.

Do you realize that your heart can gather at a much faster rate than your mind can process? The eyes of your heart are far keener than your “mind’s eye”. I am not for a minute saying not to use your head. I love to hear teaching from apologists such as Ravi Zacharias or learn from the brilliant minds of the likes of Ken Ham. Not for one second should you turn off your brain when it comes to your faith. What I am saying is that sometimes it takes my brain time to catch up with the understanding my heart has gleaned from experience. It may only take a half hour to eat that amazing meal, but your digestive system needs all night to process what it received.

My son, if you accept my words and store up my commands within you, turning your ear to wisdom and applying your heart to understanding—                        ~Proverbs 2:1-2 (NIV)

And that’s where I find myself right now. For lack of a more flattering analogy, it reminds me of a cow having to chew its cud between devouring more of the sweet clover growing in the pasture. I’m feeling so full of His goodness as He has been generous with His insights and His Person, yet I am not content to live on yesterday’s manna. In between processing what I’ve just come to understand, I’m taking in more. I have literally been overwhelmed of late and that is why the silence.

Perhaps you relate to what I’m writing. I hope so. But perhaps not. Maybe you are struggling with knowing you should be spending time in God’s Word and in His Presence, but just don’t feel motivated. Can I give you a little tip? In the natural, we get hungry by not eating. But our spirit is just the opposite. Our spirits get hungry by eating. The more time you spend with God, the more of His time you want. Revelation from His Word, begets a greater desire for more revelation. The greater depths of intimacy you experience with the Lover of your soul, the more you awaken to the understanding that there is more to be had, and the more ravenous you become for another encounter with Him.

I don’t care if you are what I like to call “Pre-Christian”, an infant in your walk with God, a crawler, a walker, a runner, or even if you have learned to fly – there are treasures that lie just beyond your reach. You need only cry out for “More” to grasp them. And not only do I know that to be true in this life, but I believe with all my heart that the same will be true of eternity. God is too awesome for us to ever arrive at a place where we completely understand the magnitude of His majesty and love.

I have an idea that when this loquacious woman someday reaches Heaven, she will be rendered speechless for at least the first few millennium. When I finally can speak, I’m pretty sure all I will be able to do, is like the angels that encompass His throne, fall down on my face in worship crying, “Holy”.

Does any of this resonate with you? I do appreciate the private messages and emails, but would enjoy a discussion in the comment section below. You can sign up so you don’t miss a post, and please pass this on to your social media pages if you feel it’s worthy.

In summary, please click below to enjoy my latest song entitled, “Overwhelm Me“.

If you have been following my blog, you likely realize that I’m on an odyssey of sorts. The farther I delve into this journey, the more epic I am realizing it is. With every passing year, I am gaining a bit more perspective on the reality that this span of time allotted to each of us in different, unknown quantities is a mere breath of eternity. As this realization grows, the more hyper-focused I am becoming at discovering all that God has deposited in me, His reasons for doing so, and the avenues by which He plans to bring those gifts to maturation.

You know, we all have a tainted view of God. The Apostle Paul tells us that we see through a smudged glass at best. (My paraphrase.) I love how The Message paraphrases it:

We don’t yet see things clearly. We’re squinting in a fog, peering through a mist. But it won’t be long before the weather clears and the sun shines bright! We’ll see it all then, see it all as clearly as God sees us, knowing him directly just as he knows us!   ~1 Corinthians 13:12 (MSG)

It’s interesting to me that different people get hung up on different aspects of who God is. For example, many people don’t want to get too close or put too much emphasis on the Holy Spirit… Uncomfortable. I get that. But I’ve learned to make this my prayer. “God, if it doesn’t offend you, don’t let it offend me. Give me the discernment I need to know what is of man and what is of You.”

Then there is Jesus. I find most Christians are comfortable with Him because, well, He became one of us. He gets us, our emotions, struggles, and pain. He took it all on. He’s safe.

But here is something I never saw in myself until recently, and I wonder how many of you might relate. I have lived my life in fear of God the Father. Why is that? In part at least, I believe it’s this. Our earthly fathers are imperfect, but the only measure by which we define the word [Father]. And sadly, likely without realizing it, we project their inadequacies, mistakes, and flaws onto our Heavenly Father. In my case, (and I believe he is humble enough at this point in his life for me to say this), growing up, my dad, although a believer who loves the Lord, had anger issues from unresolved hurts in his own life. So although I knew he loved me for so many reasons and things he did right, I became an egg-shell-walker and avoided him a lot when he was around. The truth is, if I needed something, I was much more inclined to go to my mom about it, because she felt more safe to me.

And that is just what I have done with God. Here was how I approached the throne: “Um…Jesus, could you talk to the Father for me about this? Or even: “Holy Spirit, the Word of God says that You intercede on my behalf to the Father too, so can you take this need to Him?” And when I did feel bold enough to address Him directly (which Jesus died so we may), I did it on my proverbial tip-toes, watching Him closely in case I was overstepping my bounds.

One of my local radio stations airs a daily broadcast by a man with an unmistakably rich baritone voice named Steve Brown. One of the things Steve often says is, “Friends, God is not mad at you.” Do you know that? As crazy as it sounds, I knew that in my head, but until recently, without even realizing it, I didn’t trust it to be completely true in my heart. See I know all too well the failures that I have racked up. The enemy is really good at reminding me, you know. So with those on the forefront of my mind, I imagine they are on the Father’s as well when I approach Him. It’s as if I think my sins have made me fall from His good graces even though I know I’m forgiven. Perhaps I haven’t earned my way back into enough of His favor to ask so much of Him. (Yuck! There is that “religion” again. How did that sneak in?)

Once I wrapped my head around this new epiphany, I asked God (The Father) to forgive me first of all, then to help me tear down the walls I had erected because I didn’t know how. I asked Him to begin wiping the smudges away that made the glass I see Him through so tainted. And this is one of the things He has been teaching me. Jesus’ words, as recorded by Matthew:

And he said: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.                                                                                                                          ~Matthew 18:3 (NIV)

Did you ever think through that? There are so many aspects of a child that apply here, but picture this scenario with me for a moment. A little baby is about to take her first step. She is unsure, teetery, and unstable. Yet, her daddy, whom she trusts and adores is a few feet away with his arms held out, imploring her to come. She stands there for a moment, no doubt tottering between the safety of her current position and the excitement and draw of being close to her daddy. Finally, with enough encouragement, she takes a step toward him, then another, and just as her little legs loose their balance and she is about to plunge head-first onto the floor, he catches her up and to her delight, tosses her into the air before catching her again and holds her close to his heart.

Does he chastise her for the fact that her steps were unstable? Did he wear a frown or scowl at her for not coming right away? Is he angry that she was falling? No way! He is delighted that she came to him! He praises her, and puts her down to try again. Now, with growing confidence, she steps out with less hesitation, motivated by the exhilaration of the coming toss in the air and her daddy’s affirmation and affection.

Do you see where I am headed? This has literally been my experience of late with God the Father. I have discovered that not only is He not scary, but in fact, He delights in me – wobbly, insecure, messy-faced me. And I have also discovered that I love being close to Him. I don’t only experience the grace and love He gives, but am sensing His unmerited favor as well. Grace and favor…that’s another post for another day.

So what about you? Do you project your experiences with others onto the character of God? Perhaps some of you had a dad that left. Fear of abandonment is likely an issue for you. Do you struggle to trust God? Maybe you were abused in some way leaving you with a hostility toward God. Perhaps it wasn’t a dad who let you down, but a priest, a spouse, a teacher, or a relative whom you looked up to…some person in a position of influence or authority in your life whose flaws you subconsciously project onto our loving Creator. May I challenge you to allow Him to speak for Himself? Ask Him to tear down the walls you have erected. Invite Him to wipe some of the smudges away from the looking glass and reveal His heart for you. Seek Him in His Word for the truth of His character. He is gentle. He is kind. God is love – deeper and more fulfilling than any human is capable of being, let alone comprehending. Take a few baby steps toward Him and give Him permission to blow your mind with His affection. Allow yourself to be undone in His presence. Experience a greater depth of a love more pure, real, and glorious than any tongue can tell. You will grow – closer to Him, as well as in your understanding of who you are. You will begin to understand what the giftings are that He planted in you, and why He put them there. And like the little child who taps her fingers together simultaneously signing and singing out “More! More!”, you will find yourself experiencing your own odyssey, reaching new heights as He tosses you up into the air, basking in His love, and marveling at His favor.

Thanks for reading. Feel free to share this post if it blesses you, and click on the picture below to hear one of my latest songs entitled:

Baby Steps

My husband Tom and I could be a case study on how opposites attract. Years ago, I dubbed him with the title: “The Man of No Reaction”. (I might even have written a song about him by that name…{snicker!}) He is a deep thinker and processes internally. I, on the other hand, feel deeply and process verbally. One is not right, and the other wrong; just opposite.

Some of you have asked me why I refer to myself as a Girdle Burr and Beauty Hunter in the poem on the home page of my website. Well here’s what I mean by that. If there is a burr in our girdle (in other words, something is eating at us), so often we are prone to stuffing it and carrying on with life. Yet we feel irritable or unsettled, sometimes repressing it so successfully that consciously we don’t even know what is making us a grouch pot. That’s the Girdle Burr part.

And what about beauty? With our fast-forward lifestyles, if we aren’t careful, we can easily miss the simple joys all around us. For me this is especially true of nature. It’s not rare for my husband, who doesn’t always relate to the intensity of my elation over some thing of beauty that has captured my delight, to begin singing the old Nirvana song to me: “I wish I were like you, easily amused…”! I don’t mind his teasing, because secretly I hold the opinion that he really does! {Snicker again!} Thus the phrase Beauty Hunter. 

It’s something we are born with, you know. Have you ever observed a child’s gleeful delight in a flowering “weed”, woolly worm bug, or perhaps the moon? When did we loose that? Somewhere along the line, we begin to take the simple joys for granted. Maybe we’ve learned to subdue our emotions, or perhaps we just get too busy with the demands of life to stop and drink in the roses (or dandelions). Perhaps it comes a bit more naturally to my personality than some, but the older I get, the more I am determined to no longer stifle that starry-eyed little girl in me so full of wonder. There is a vast difference between childish and childlike, and I endeavor (much to my husband’s bewilderment at times) to set that childlike little girl free.

 

 

I LOVE autumn, and everything about it. It’s my candle-lighting, sweater-wearing, leaf-crunching, cider-sipping, make-me-happy time of year. It ushers in a flood to my senses of my favorite colors, flavors, and aromas. (Tom bakes a sweet potato pie that makes me swoon!) In the words penned by L. M. Montgomery, “I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers”, and I would add, Novembers too.

 

 

And what about those Harvest Moons? The other week Tom and I were driving when we had another “Nirvana Song” moment. It was early evening and the moon was taking center stage directly in front of us as we made our way home. And it was a Harvest Moon indeed! It was so big; so radiant. It took my breath away. It gave me such a thrill, that I couldn’t help, nor did I desire to cap my elation over its beauty. Although Tom certainly appreciated its splendor, he was by no means as captivated as I, nor could he relate to my inability to move on to another subject the rest of the way home. (Poor guy!)

 

 

That got me thinking though. Did you ever consider that the moon itself isn’t very pretty at all? On its own, it is cold; dark; lifeless. Its surface is peppered and scarred with massive craters. There is nothing attracted to it, for it has no gravitational pull. So how can it be that someone who is 238,855 miles away from a giant pock-marked rock in the sky that has ruled the night since the world was set in motion, can find herself so enthralled?

 

 

The moon is beautiful, because it reflects the light of the sun.

 

 

Wow…let that sink in. Are we any different? If we were honest, left to ourselves, our hearts would be as cold, dark, lifeless, and perhaps hard as the boulder in the sky we call moon. Scarred by its lot of pain and cratered with gaping holes, we look to things outside of God to fulfill it- relationships, power, pleasure, fortune, and fame to name a few. And like the moon, our hearts on their own, posses no pull that is really all that attractive to others, especially if they were privy to what they truly harbor deep inside, which is why few are ever really allowed close enough to see.

The difference between our hearts and the moon, however, is that our hearts are alive. Symbolically speaking, they are a part of our soul. (Mind, Will, Emotion, Conscience.) And thankfully, the One who set the heavens (including the moon) into motion, hasn’t finished molding our hearts yet. The snag we so often hit, however, is that there is a condition. You see God is not pushy. He gave us a free will; the choice as to how much or how little of Him we want to absorb.

Allowing His light to shine into the deep crevices of our souls can be painful however. Sin issues in our hearts are difficult to address. We would so often rather ignore the burr in our girdle, suppressing its irritation, than go through the unpleasant and more painful, yet temporary process of allowing Him to expose and purge the ugly. Yet when we come to the place where we surrender and allow God to go to work in our hearts, something amazing happens. Although our hearts may still bear scars, like the moon, they begin to reflect the beauty of the Son. That kind of a heart -scars, craters, and all- is far more attractive than gravity.

 

     But everything exposed by the light becomes visible—and everything that is illuminated becomes a light.

~Ephesians 5:13 (NIV)

 

 

Frankly, I find it quite a relief to know that all I have to do for my cold, dark, lifeless, scarred heart to become a thing of beauty is to yield to the One who is both equipped and desirous to turn it into something breathtaking. Surrender is an ongoing, lifelong process, and it’s often humbling and surely sobering to be confronted with realities we’d rather ignore. But the more we absorb the love of God, the more we reflect His beauty. Then like the old song says, we can “Shine on, Shine on Harvest Moon”, and no matter where you land on the spectrum of deep, analytical thinker to expressive, childlike feeler, you’ll be amazed how the light of Christ reflected in you will attract others to the beauty of our Savior. Let’s reflect on that, shall we?

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Before you click on the song below, a quick update on my book series, Fruit Fables: Although I expected its release by now, I’ve come upon an interesting bend in the road. I’ll keep you posted.

Also, I sure do love your feedback. If these posts bless you, please consider a). passing them on and b). leaving your thoughts in the comment section to let me know how they may be impacting you. (Seriously, am I the only one feeling all this pruning [last blog post] or being confronted with burrs in my proverbial girdle?) And if you want to be sure not to miss any posts, just sign in with your email on my homepage, and they’ll come right to your inbox.

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Wishing you and yours a blessed and reflective Thanksgiving. Now may:

“The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you; the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace.”      ~Numbers 6:24-26 (NIV)

Click on the picture below to hear one of my latest songs:

Indeed

 

Last month I spent a day with my friend Erica. She lives right on the Susquehanna River, and our goal that day was to kayak across to an island where there is a natural wading pool area to swim in. However, the river is particularly high this year, and since we had my little guy along, we decided to just paddle around near the bank for his sake, then spend the day hiking. Her house is banked right in the side of a mountain that backs up to 300 acres of land owned by the Boy Scouts. When Erica and her husband bought the property for the riverfront, they didn’t realized it came with acreage on top of the mountain for quite some time until a neighbor told them about it! (BONUS! – She just kills me!)

We spent the better part of the afternoon hiking around the Boy Scout property which was fascinating. There were lots of trails of course, bridges and ponds, two old stone cottages that clearly predate the boy scouts, challenge courses, and even an old wild-west kind of town made of false fronted buildings.

 

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We found plenty of wild raspberries, blackberries, and wineberries along the way which added a bit of deliciosity to our day. (Deliciosity should be a word.) But it wasn’t until we reached her property that I found the mountain-top fruitopia!

Her bonus acreage is largely populated with Paw-Paw trees! What are Paw-Paws you ask? They are only the largest native North American fruit, yet most people have never heard of them. If you have, it’s probably because you remember Jungle Book. In fact, Lewis and Clark recorded that they ate many of them on their expeditions here. They taste like a tropical banana custard (ish), and give an amazing twist to a fruit salad. How do I know? We grow them.

 

Our back yard would fool you if you drove by our house which is one of the last two standing in the middle of what is now the commercial end of town. The other house is next door and belonged to my late in-laws. They look like two peas in a weird little pod with our nearest neighbors being a Sheets convenience store and a Comfort Inn. Across the street there is a shopping center which includes a grocery store, three banks, and a Pizza Hut. But step into our back yard and the commercial stores and traffic almost (but not quite) disappear. Our houses are currently on the market, so we have stopped replanting when trees run their course, but it has produced some true Lancaster County bounty over the years ranging from apples, pears, peaches, multiple varieties of  grapes and cherries, strawberries, red and black raspberries, blackberries, figs, plums, apricots, plumcots (a crossbreed between the two), persimmons (one of my favorite) and paw paws! There are nut trees too, most of which feed the squirrels; even a hazelnut tree.

 

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When I first met my husband, I was studying for a certification in natural health and had just learned about the almost 60 medicinal uses of the paw paw tree. You can imagine my elation when I learned he had them growing in his back yard!

The point is, I of all people should recognize a paw paw tree when I see one. However, it wasn’t until we were half-way across Erica’s property that I realized it. Why you ask? Because for as many as there were, I didn’t identify them until I saw their fruit. (Chew on that for a moment – Pun intended.) Once I saw the fruit, I began to notice that they were everywhere. It was literally a mountain-top grove of paw paws with an occasional hard wood mixed in. I think you know where I’m going with this…

In Matthew 7:15-20 Jesus is talking about how to identify Christ followers from the counterfeits.

You will know them by their fruits. Do men gather grapes from thorn bushes or figs from thistles?      ~Matthew 7:16 (NIV)

 

 

If we identify ourselves as Christ followers, we ought to be producing a rich harvest of good fruit. There is a big difference between relationship and religion my friends. Jesus hated religion. If you doubt that, go check out the choice words He had for the Sadducees and Pharisees – the “Religious” leaders (counterfeits) of that day. Jesus came because the Father desired to restore relationship with us again. The kind of relationship we had before the fall, when He literally took walks in the garden paradise called Eden with human beings. Sin separated us from that relationship until Jesus Christ took on the wages of our sin by dying on the cross in our place.

For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.   ~Romans 6:23 (NIV)

The moment Jesus said, “It is finished” and gave up His Spirit, the veil that separated the Holy of Holies, where God’s presence resided separate from the rest of the Temple, was ripped in two from top to bottom. Read the Penteteuch my friends – that veil was not a thin, sheer curtain purchased from K Mart!

This was a declaration by the God of the Universe that we are no longer separated from having a personal relationship with Him. No more religion! Instead, Relationship.

And that’s how we produce fruit. By walking with Him. By talking with Him. By listening to Him. By spending time in worship and just abiding in His presence. (If this sounds like work to you or something you should check off a to-do list, that’s religion. Walking with God in relationship is an adventure like no other!) Most importantly, we produce fruit by living a life yielded to His will and way – a life of surrender. If you have trusted Christ for Salvation, the Bible says that the Holy Spirit of God resides within you, and that the fruit of the Spirit of God should be growing in abundance.

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Just as the sweetness of the aroma and the beauty of fruit itself causes us to desire it’s deliciosity, (yes, I think that word should go in the dictionary), so should the fruit (evidence of God’s indwelling Spirit) cause others to desire to walk in relationship with our Savior as well. Jesus’ words:

“I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.                                                                           ~John 15:5 (NIV)

 

I’m sorry to say that all to often unbelievers find themselves in a forest of paw paws (Christians) without even knowing it. Or worse, they smell something bad (rotten fruit) because that Christ follower hasn’t allowed Him to do the pruning in their lives that is needed to cause them to flourish in the way the Gardener intends for them to. (There is that “surrender” word again.)

 

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But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patients, kindness, goodness, faithfulness,  gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.                                         ~Galatians 5:22-23 (ESV)

 

I am excited to tell you that without any unforeseen delays, my first book is set to be published next month! It is entitled, FRUIT FABLES, and is a treasury of 9 short children’s stories written in a catchy poetic fable form unpacking each one of the meanings of the Fruit of the Spirit. I am told that although they are cute and clever little stories, they also carry a lot of meat. I’m interested in the feedback I receive from adults just as much as the children whom they are reading to. The Bible says that the Word of God does not go out and return void, but accomplishes what God intended in the hearts of those on whose ears it has fallen. Children’s stories they may be, but the truths from God’s Word that they impart are ever so powerful.

I don’t claim for a minute to have reached the pinnacle of success in these attributes. Sadly, I have dropped more rotten fruit from my branches than I care to admit causing me to require a great deal of pruning. And just about the time I think I’m doing well, God allows another situation in my life that launches me right back into the refining fire. Hear me…we are all a work in progress. I know the ugliness of my sinful heart and my weaknesses are many. But I am a woman whose roots run deep. I stand forgiven with my feet firmly planted on the solid Rock of my Salvation, Jesus Christ, and I know the joy (one of the fruits of the Spirit) of walking in relationship with my Savior.

I hope you know that joy as well. I hope you know Him. I hope you are a willing participant, uncomfortable as it may be at times, to the pruning necessary to allow you to live a life of abundance – a Holy kind of Fruitopia so to speak. I aim to reap a rich harvest. How about you?

 

 

Stay tuned. (There’s a place on my home page to subscribe to this blog.) I’ll be sure to let you know when FRUIT FABLES becomes available and where you can pick up your own copy (or 2, or 10 – wink!). Until then, know that no matter what season you may find yourself in, there is a time for everything under the sun – sowing, growing, reaping, pruning, resting, etc.. But no matter what season we find ourselves in, it’s always time to walk in relationship with the Lover of our Souls. Click below and listen in to me telling the little bird that lives in my coo-coo clock to go home and stop interrupting my time with Jesus. And if this blesses you, I’d appreciate it if you pass along this post as well as your feedback.

 

I was a child myself when I had my first child, which perhaps is a story for another day. There are pros and cons to everything, but suffice it to say that entering motherhood at the tender age of 18, having another at 24, then being a single-mom for a few years nbefore adding my caboose at 34 has never allowed me much in the way of down time. I don’t regret for a moment all the time invested in my children. In fact, I often long to hit rewind and rock my babies to sleep once more. But with the understanding that there is precious little I have found more fulfilling and rewarding than being my kids’ mom, I have definitely felt a lack in my life of time for me. In fact, for most of us who are blessed to be called by that name (mom), “me time” is not even in our vocabulary, let along a blip on our radar screen.

But as I recently crested another hill in my life called the 40’s, a new concept began to tug at me with the persistence of a child at a mother’s apron strings. If you’re guessing that I wanted some “me time”, well, sort of.

A woman of wise counsel, of whom I’m blessed to call my spiritual mother, mentioned a while back that she goes away for a few days alone at the end of each year to seek God for His vision for the next. This resonated with me deeply. I would love to do something like that, but with children and holidays, how could I? Then it dawned on me that my birthday is my new year, and an idea began to take shape.

A week before my 40th birthday arrived, I did something I have never done before. I loaded my Jeep with the necessary supplies that included my Bible, journal, and keyboard, and headed East- alone. And I didn’t stop until I arrived on the far side of New Holland, Pennsylvania at the home of a retired missionary friend (another one of my spiritual mentors). Nestled in the woods just behind their home was my destination – Uppa’s Cabin – a 400 sq. ft. gem that was once home to her late father-in-law.

 

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There is so much I would love to tell you that transpired over the next four days as I unplugged from the daily grind, social media, even my family, and just spent time abiding with my Lord. Although I came with the full intention of leaving my agenda out of it and simply listening to what God had to say to me, I must confess that I wrestled at first with two issues in particular that were heavy on my heart. God was so gracious in His willingness to shed light on those things first, giving me the peace I needed to lay them aside with a newfound confidence that those cares were safe in His, so I could then receive all that He had for me. We are told in Scripture that if we seek Him, we will find Him, if we seek Him with all of our hearts. That is what I was there to do, and wow, did He ever hold up His end of the bargain. A blog post is an inadequate place to share all that I would love to about those four precious and rich days I spent alone with God. There are some things that will forever just be between Him and I and others that I will most likely be speaking on as God gives me opportunities to share in ministry settings, etc… But I do want to tell you about something special that happened that weekend, that although may not seem like much, was very precious and wonderful to me.

On day two, I threw on my sneakers and went for a walk. Although I live only 10 minutes away (oh, didn’t I mention that?), this cabin is on the outskirts of town in what we refer to as the “Welsh Mountains”, and I don’t know my way around those back roads. After a few turns, I began to descend a hill when I caught a glimpse of the sun gleaming off a body of water. As a rounded a bend at the bottom, I was thrilled to find a small log cabin with white chinking that sat at the end of a lane on the far side of a large pond. It looked like I had just stepped back two-hundred years in history. I could see two people working outside, but unfortunately they were beyond earshot, or I would have definitely struck up a conversation. The temperature was in the high-70’s and the early June sun was glistening off the pond like diamonds as the wind rippled the water. Everything in me ached to go sit by that pond. Yet, I walked on.

 

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As the following morning dawned, the song of birds woke me to a day as gorgeous as the former. After breakfast and time in God’s Word, I couldn’t resist retracing my steps of the day before. As I descended the hill again, I was astounded to see that I wasn’t the only one drawn to that beautiful place. I stood in awe, not caring that I looked like a creeper, and began taking pictures. Soaring above this magnificent setting with an air of majesty was a beautiful bald eagle.

 

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As silly as this sounds, I felt like God was giving me a birthday present, and I was enthralled! Now I really wanted to sit by that pond! I lingered for a few more moments, but I knew I must go on. As I rounded the bend, I paused one more time to take in the simple grandeur of the setting, when a car coming down the road slowed to a stop, and an elderly woman put down her window. In my elation, I pointed up to the sky, and said, “Look! There’s an eagle up there over that pond. Look at this whole setting with the little log cabin, and this beautiful day… Isn’t it amazing?”

“Oh, I’m glad you like it”, she replied. “That’s my home. Hop in. I’ll give you a tour!”

I ended up not only making a new friend that day with a sweet and spunky 74-year-young widow, but at her invitation to make myself at home, I was literally able to sit by that pond all afternoon.

 

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As I lay in the grass with my sneakers off and toes sinking into the cool mud, I felt so loved. I hadn’t even asked God if He would make a way for me to sit by that pond. As little of a thing as it was, He saw my desire and made it happen. I giggled like a child as I lay on my stomach splashing my hands in the water and digging stones out of the mud with my fingers. And just to prove all the more that this was no random happenstance – although my new friend told me she had never seen an eagle over her property before, what I first thought to be one eagle coming and going, ended up being four! I believe it was a mother with three of her young. I was even able to get a picture where they are all in the frame at once. (Look closely.)

 

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It was simply glorious. Like David, my meditation of Him {God} was indeed sweet that afternoon as my mind rested on these familiar scriptures:

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul…                                   ~Psalm 23:1-3a (KJV)

and…

But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.      ~Isaiah 40:31 (KJV)

 

Admittedly, the first thing I did when I arrived at my friend’s cabin a few days before was sit down and weep. It wasn’t over any one issue but over the many billows that have rolled in (and at times over) my life throughout the last several years. Nor was it the first and likely not the last time my tears were spilled over present pressures and past wounds. This kind of weeping was more of a cleansing that needed to happen. I came with a heavy sort of weariness, and a desperate need for my soul to find not only restoration, but inspiration and direction as well. One by one, every single concern, fear, question, need, and hope I carried to that place was addressed. I’m still processing all that God showed me during that time. And like Mary Magdalene, having experienced the grace and love of my Teacher, all I want to do now is leave the dishes and sit at the feat of my “Rabboni”.

How about you? Does this sound like the romantic ramblings of a woman gone mad, or like the fresh cup of water that you yourself so desperately need to drink from? In Matthew 11:28-30 (NIV), Jesus said:

 “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”                                                        

What? You don’t have a friend with a cabin on the other side of town? Jesus’s half-brother James tells us in the book of Scripture that bears his name that “We have not, because we ask not”. So my friend, if you desire time alone with Jesus, ask. Maybe someone will offer out of the blue to take your children for a week like they did my friend right after I shared my experience with her, leaving her at home with time like she hasn’t had in years to breathe in the presence of God.  Maybe you’ll get a beach house for a week. After all, God knows what makes you tick. Perhaps something that fills your time will suddenly be removed from your schedule (even feeling like a loss…at first). Maybe God will simply convict you that your schedule needs to shift so you can align your priorities placing Him at the forfront of each day to seek Him first. It seems like when we do this, things just fall into place for the rest of the day anyhow, doesn’t it? I don’t know what God will go about answering that request, but I know this: If you sincerely seek Him with all of your heart, He will never go back on His Word and leave you stranded.

Can I just encourage you; challenge you; even dare you to forget about the idea of “me time” and give God permission to override your busy schedule and draw you to Himself in a new way? If so, you too will experience the light that chases away the darkness from your path, know the rest He alone can provide for your soul, and experience the kind of love and delight only found in His presence.

You better believe I’ll be doing this again next year. I can’t wait to turn 41!

Confide in Me is a prayer in the form of a song that I wrote while in the cabin waiting to hear from God. I hope you make it your prayer as well.