Passionate Breakfast

This morning I met a friend for breakfast at an unassuming restaurant situated in the middle of a quaint, quiet village that so far has escaped the need for a stoplight. We sat in a booth next to a window with a blue fluorescent sign that invited those on the street inside: “Eggs – Bacon – Friends.”

For the first hour we exchanged pleasantries, caught up on news, and ate our breakfast while pretenses sank deep into the vinyl booth’s seats.  The second hour our conversation descended to some deeper heart-places to expose hopes, fears, longings, beliefs, hurts, victories, and honest feelings.

I left full of eggs but also renewed, not necessarily because of the topics (some of which were hard), but because the sharing had been so open and real.  As I drove to a nearby town to do some grocery shopping, I continued thinking about one thing in particular: passion.  Without passion, it seems we either pretend our way through life (at best), or else exist as if pacing the floor in an endless waiting room (at worst).  Passion is unique to each individual, and yet is what ignites us. It is that thing that is beyond us, and yet requires us.  It defines our reason to live.  It is our calling. 

Book Club

Earlier today at a meeting of our new Book Club, I reported on The Interior Castle, written by St. Teresa of Avila in 1577.  This evening I decided to introduce this inspired author briefly here by reprinting a short quote with meditative imagery:

"We consider our soul to be like a castle made entirely of a diamond or of very clear crystal, in which there are many rooms . . . If I had understood as I do now that in this little palace of my soul dwelt so great a King, I would not have left Him alone so often."

St. Teresa of Avila, The Interior Castle

Small Things

Sometimes the small things in life can have the biggest impact - things like the weekly story hour at our village’s tiny public library.

Each week on Wednesday mornings I visit with our granddaughter to spend time with Miss Juanita, a retired-but-passionate pre-school teacher.  We sing an opening song, listen to several well-told stories, play follow-the-leader, do repetitious exercises, and have a simple snack. 

As I watch the young, enraptured audience and catch the thrill of expectation and enjoyment, I remember something almost forgotten, and yet critical to us all: childlike vulnerability, openness, and receptivity.

Knitting Dishrags

I’m not an avid knitter (like my mother, who was both very skilled and very patient), and in fact often find knitting large and/or intricate items exasperating.  However, every once in a while I get the urge, and recently decided to knit a few all-cotton dishrags – simple, short-term projects.

The patterns in the little book I purchased are beautiful!  Here are a couple of pictures to show-and-tell my efforts:

P.S.

Hmmmmmm, just in case I was not clear in my earlier post today, the "new kitchen" is in reference to the kitchen in our NEW CHURCH BUILDING!  I'm definitely on a roll with pre-planning efforts, and am eager to see plans finalized and implemented.  Just found an industrial 3-bay-stainless-steel sink with drainboard on Craigslist - a great possibility at a significant savings!  :-)

City on a Hill

Below are the lyrics of the song our praise team shared yesterday as special music, inspired by Matthew 5:14-16:  “You are the light of the world.  A town built on a hill cannot be hidden.  Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl.  Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house.  In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.”  Very appropriate for our first gathering in the new facility!

City on a Hill

You are the light of the world

A city on a hill cannot be hidden

Shine your light before all men

That they might see your works and then

Praise your Father up in Heaven

A city on a hill cannot be hidden

Standing tall before all men

To show the things that it's been given

And everything that it can give

Just like that city on a hillside

We got a light that's deep within us

No, don't keep it to yourself

Just remember how you felt

When you first gave your life to Jesus

And I now that our salvation isn't based on the things we do

But it's only given by the grace of God

By the sacrifice of Jesus, and if we really did believe

We were born to share this message with someone

This morning I’ve been working on a potential layout for our new-and-roomy church kitchen, which has been exciting!  The trick involves using already-existing cabinetry and a large island (with marble countertop!) in the forthcoming plans.  Can’t wait to show other interested parties, and see what they think.

Kick-Off

Our congregation worshiped in our beautiful new church building for the first time today, which strangely felt like a homecoming.  “Welcome home!” became the theme as we talked to each other and to Pastor Tim and his wife - our pastor of 5 years ago who has been shepherding a church in Michigan’s upper peninsula but is returning to join us once again.  There was much cause for celebration!

The attractive building with its reverent sanctuary, situated on the shores of a pristine pond graced with sandhill cranes wading in the shallows, was dedicated as a house of prayer and place of Bible study, salvation, rededication, and change (because of what God can do) where people will find healing, be released from addictions, and celebrate life – even in the midst of death.  A place to devote our hearts to God, to live in hope and then give it away to others who fine life hopelessly disappointing.

I left inspired by two succinct challenges:

First, LIVE LIFE.  Live in hope.  Live by God’s grace.
Then, GIVE LIFE.  Give hope away. Give God’s grace as it has been given me.

Living with hope is a different way to live, a way that invites us to experience the resurrection life right now.  To have hope, or to lose it, is a big deal.  We choose HOPE because God works in all things, and that gives us confident expectation that everything will be okay – that His grace truly will be enough.