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Red Dirt and Pine Cones

342 271 Debi Moses

“I and the Father are one.”  John 10:30

For once we were listening when God stepped in, as our lives did a flip flop, and miraculously changed lanes. Off we went in a direction that had only been on our bucket-list of “maybe someday” and in the blink of an eye, “someday” had arrived.  One that was His next step in life for us but not exactly in our current scheme of things.  The land of our childhood had been calling our names, pine trees, red dirt and sweet smell as the seasons change in our native East Texas.  A home on a lake and a move from the hectic daily life back to our country roots had been on our list for years.  We would say things like … when we move to the lake … one day we’re going to find just the right spot and move to the lake … one day we’re going to get out of this traffic and be able to go fishing whenever we want, one day… You know the drill, you might have been there, or oh “wise one” know that your “one day” is exactly where you are now and are living in “your” moment.

So, with the volume of our hearts turned up so we could hear Him loud and clear, we left the highways and the bi-ways of the big city, and went in search of “home.” You know the spot where you feel a sense of belonging way before your address is changed, or the moving van emptied. It was as if the heavens opened on a spectacular fall Sunday guiding us among the pines to our “home.” And now with the boxes unpacked, a song in my heart and snuggled into my cozy bed, a new wake-up call cleared my foggy brain. It was my new friends “the ducks” taking flight over the lake, greeting me with their morning “Hello.”  This time of day is such a treasure, real life has yet to dawn and there’s time for those pesky scattered thoughts to scurry across my muddled brain. It’s like our puppies’ new best friends the squirrels, as they chase each other among the trees. It’s that time before my daily rhythm begins and a chance to ponder life, and even squeeze in a prayer or two. As my brain cells decided to rise and shine I cherished the peace in my heart and this time and this place. The glistening sun light bouncing off the lake was calling my name.  I threw on my comfy yoga clothes, grabbed a cup of Starbucks and slowly walked down to the sun- drenched dock. I slipped my sleep deprived body into my cozy chair and let the rays of the sun hit my face and realized it was God, not the lake, calling my name.  The sun kissing my face was the Holy One shining His gracious love for me on my tired cheeks.  As I closed my eyes I felt my Savior’s love rush over me and I truly felt one with Him. I’m at peace, let the squirrels chase themselves…  All is Well with my Soul, All is well.

Pray with me:   Holy One, open my eyes and heart so I may feel one with You as I walk my days, hear Your songs in my soul, and feel Your warm kisses on my cheeks.

Living in expectations.

Points to Ponder:

  1. When are you one with the Father?
  2. Have you found your special place?
  3. Are you aware when God touches your heart? How does it feel?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Loving Hands: “A Tribute to Moms”

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Hands of Love

Hand of Love

And he took the children in his arms, placed his hands on them and blessed them.” Mark 10:16

“Well, bless your heart,” is a Southern saying for sure, and one that has graced my ears throughout the years. After skinning my knee while chasing my brothers, I would run into the house with tears running down my cheeks, and mom would always say, “Well, bless your heart,” as she gave me a hug, followed by a trip to the medicine cabinet to get the Mercurochrome to clean my “devastating” injury before placating me with a Barbie Band-Aid. That red magic potion would burn like the devil, but she gingerly blew on my knee to help take the sting away. She would lovingly pat my little stubby hand, and I truly believe her touch did the healing. Mom’s youthful hands gradually became spotted with age and eventually disfigured with arthritis as the years went by, but the love she gave with her priceless touch never diminished.

It wasn’t until I slowed down long enough to examine my new blue nail polish that it came to me, “I’ve got my mother’s hands!” The vivid memories came flooding in, and I thought to myself, “This is one sign of maturity that I truly don’t mind.” I realize the appearance of my hands is not a flaw at all — it’s a gift!

When I look at my hands, not only do I see Mom’s hands, her smile travels across my mind. I hear her exuberant claps as she proudly applauds following my lack-luster recitals. I see her holding her trembling hands high up in the air, wearing her crooked cowboy hat, as she played banker and handed over all of the bank’s money to her grandsons, wearing their bandana masks, before they rode away on their stick horses. I see her sitting in her chair, lovingly stitching with her hands each square of material, as she made the many quilts we have cuddled in throughout the generations. Even today, I can still feel the warmth of her hands leaving her body as I held on to them tightly, selfishly not wanting to let her walk away into the arms of Jesus. I was truly blessed by her hands, her touch, and her love.

Now I get to share the blessings of mom’s hands with my grandchildren. Taking walks holding on to their soft little hands, folding my hands into “prayer hands” as a little one says the family prayer, and even taking a squirmy fish off of a hook is the best way I know to pass on the love. At the end of the day I get my reward when bath time comes, and I get splashed with bubbles from little ones as they play with trucks, sheep, cows, and whatever else may find its way into the tub. Being baptized and blessed by a grandchild’s love is the very best.

Jesus took the little children in His arms and touched them and blessed them. Little children, mature adults and even those pesky teenagers need a loving touch. The joy of a mother is taking our children into our arms, reaching out when they need a hand to hold, or clapping to encourage even the worst performance. That is our joy. If you’re not with your mother today, remember her touch, breathe in those treasured memories that will make your heart sing and feel the many blessings that Jesus gives each of us. If you are with your mother, walk over to her and just sit closely and hold her hand. Blessing her with your touch is the best gift of all as you celebrate her day.

Pray with Me:

Dear Father of Loving Hands,

You reach out to us and hold us so many times as we walk our days. Thank you for giving us the women in our lives who molded us by their touch.

Reaching out to You

Points to Ponder:

Mothers come in all shapes and sizes and come and go in our lives, and I was blessed to have three wonderful mothers whose hands touched my heart and soul. My mom, Lanore Austin, who gave me life, my precious mother-in-law, Mary Frances Moses, whose hands taught me how to needlepoint and make a great chocolate pie, and my other mother, Billie Johnson, who came into my life in the form of a friend, and created joy wherever she went.

  1. Who are the mothers in your life?
  2. If you can’t name one, is there someone in your life who needs a child?
  3. What’s your favorite memory of your mom? Share it with someone and continue her story.

Its a Hot Flash!

150 150 Debi Moses

He asked them, ‘What are you discussing together as you walk along?’ One of them, named Cleopas, asked him, ‘Are you the only one visiting Jerusalem who does not know the things that have happened there in these days?’”  “It is true! The Lord has risen and has appeared to Simon.”  Luke 24:17, 18, 34Businesswoman in Menopause

It came on me like a hot flash.  Minutes earlier, I had strutted into First United Methodist Church in Ft. Worth with my family, parading down the aisle in my Easter finery, reveling in the compliment given to me by Alice, the greeter.  I could tell Alice was definitely a fashionista because of the lovely royal-blue hat with a snappy yellow bow that adorned her head.  I must admit that I felt a moment of envy, but since it was Easter, I quickly dismissed my covetous thoughts and continued my strut down the aisle.

When the minister began the service, we stood up, and I heard those words that we hear every Easter morning, “He has risen, He has risen indeed.”  Suddenly my lip began to quiver, and tears streamed down my face.  I was puzzled and asked myself, “What is the source of these unexpected and overwhelming emotions?”  I wasn’t sweating like my normal hot flashes, so I chalked it up to nostalgia of Easter holidays gone by.  Then when we began to sing “Christ the Lord is Risen Today”, the tears flowed again, and that same warm feeling surrounded my heart.  I couldn’t figure out what was happening.  Strangely, the answer came to me as if Cleopas and his traveling buddy were talking to me on the road to Emmaus.  “Where have you been, Debra Jean?  I can’t believe you don’t know what’s been going on!”

I guess an honest response would have been, “Well, if you must know, at the mall of course, searching for my dress and these essential purple shoes that I was told added a “pop” to my Easter finery.  Then I was assembling Easter baskets for the kids and sending cards to my friends.  What a dumb question!  It’s Easter after all, what am I supposed to be doing?”

But then I would have added that this year I also made time to go to church during Holy Week to hear the sermons, read the prayers, and thank Him for loving me.  Amongst the eggs, the bunnies and my new shoes, I managed to put Jesus smack in the middle of my life.  So what was it about this year that made my heart burst so?  Could it be that I fell in love with my Savior again?  I never thought it was possible to love my Lord more, but if this feeling were a true hot flash, I would have been fanning myself with the program, not drying my tears.

On this resurrection Sunday Jesus appeared to me like He did to Simon.  He came alive in me with three simple words, “Christ has risen.”  The thought of Him giving His life for me stirs my heart and penetrates my soul like the nails in His holy hands.

So there you go, Cleopas, I’m not so unaware after all.  I’m just reveling in His glory and love.  May He continue to be alive in all of us.

Points to Ponder:

1. Do you have a  Resurrection day story?

2. Is there something that makes your heart burst?

3. How is Christ alive in you? Do you feel Him or share Him with others?

Pray with me:

Dear Risen Christ, we strut through our lives sharing our glory, but how often do we strut for You? How often do we show the world Your glory?

Guide us to be walking advertisements of Your love, so others may see Easter in us everyday.

Holy Week ~ Glorious Sunday

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“Walk in the newness of life.”  Romans 6:4Holy Week

Sometimes we hit the wall as we live our hectic lives and our time with God goes rushing by. Pause and take a second glance into the tomb of your life.  You might be surprised Who you might meet, Who will make your life anew.

Pray with me:

Dear Father of All,

Please don’t let us miss You.  Mary Magdalene and the other Mary rushed by Your Son on the side of the road without a second glance.  Our lives are so hectic that our time to be with You goes rushing by, and sometimes we miss our time to walk in newness. Make our hearts anew so we will take a second glance into the tomb of our lives and not miss You, Holy One.

 

Holy Week ~ Saturday

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“It is no longer I who live, but it Christ who lives in me.”  Galatians 2:20Holy Week

We are, by the grace of God, equipped to be present for the others in our lives. Not just our friends and family, but the “others” who cross our path holding a sign in need of food, on the corner we pass each day.  God is present for us, may we let Him fill us so we can share His gift.  How is God present for you?

Pray with me:

Oh Holy of Holies,

“Truly this man was the Son of God!” were the words of the centurion as he stood in front of Jesus.  He was there and heard Your Son cry out to You, Father.  Open our hearts to let You live in us, so we can hear the cries of those around us who need Your love.  Help us to welcome Your presence and fill us, so we can share Your gift.