Nestled In The Here of The Moment

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 25 Comments

Today is Friday so I am participating in Lisa-Jo’s 5-Minute Friday writing flash mob. We write for five minutes with no editing, no over-thinking and no backtracking. Today’s word from Lisa-Jo is Here. GO

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s as if I got a second chance to learn this.

To learn this part of living, this being in the moment, right here.

Being present.

I lived other ways for so long but I woke-up to the right here, right now. The moment that I am living.

Like coming out of hibernation. It is a Rip-Van-Winkle kind of awakening.

When you live and feel and breathe and see everything in its glory right before all your senses.

When you can hear the heart beats around you and smell the baking bread and notice the goose-bumps on your child and see one more laugh line on your husbands face that moved in right beside the aqua blue eyes frame by silver hair.

And you feel awake in the moment, no longer dulled by the numb of being elsewhere.

You feel arms wide open and heart wide open and life wide open.

No longer living in yesterday’s life or racing ahead to tomorrow’s maybe’s, but wholly fully extravagantly exuberantly present living here and now.

And you discover a whole new way of living and a passion for the life you have before you right now, right here.

And its a glorious way to live.

To be awaken by God to be no where but here. And to love it.

STOP

(God grace? A minute or so over losing myself in the right here. Wanted to write and write and write and write.)

Linking with Lisa-Jo at Lisa Jo Baker dot com for Five Minute Fridays.

If I Were An Olympic Judge

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 26 Comments

I see the tears and anguish and want to console each one. Walk through the big screen and give a long embrace.

I want to tell them you are not your shortcomings. You are not defined by your loss.

I watch them come up short of a medal, these Olympic athletics and I long to console them. Wipe their tears, dry their eyes.

After all the training and all the effort and the blood sweat and tears, they fail to win big on the world stage.

This outcome, this turn of events, these results are not their Plan A.

And it hurts, it stings and it feels like defeat.

You are so much more than this one competition, though often your life and certainly your training have built up to this, lead to this, I long to say to the losers. The ones who fail to win the medals.

Because in my eyes, they are winners.

They and their stories are gold medal winners. And I’d give them each a medal for their humanity. Their humaneness on display for the world to see. Those who struggled and trained and gave it their all, but fell short. Or made a costly mistake. Or stumbled. Or botched the routine. Or simply had an off day. Or who ran out of steam.

Those Olympians whose stories are ripe with over-coming hardship and difficulty. Those whose story wins the medal for its tender perserverance, its victory over life’s rocky places take up big spaces in my heart.

They are the all of us so often. So very often.

They are raw and human and hurting. They feel loss and disappointment. And they are humbled by their shortcomings.

They are you. They are me. They are everyman living and struggling before our eyes. Though they wear an Olympic uniform we have walked where they are.

We know that sting. We know that pain. We know that deep hurt.

If I were an Olympic judge, they would get the medal for being there. For practicing hard and showing up to compete. For being a human. For being human. For being.

Because they look like winners to me. They wear their ache like a medal of bravery for being man.

And I know that more often than not, they can turn their disappointment into good and for the good.

They can take the moment of defeat and tease lessons from the trials. Wrap it into a future Hope for tomorrow. Take the loss and build on it, learn from it.

And change because of it.

The lessons from loss and disappointment so often bring big victories in charachter. They layer lessons of life on us like new skin, tougher smarter wiser layers of humanity.

They give us a humility. And they teach in a way that out and out winning the gold simply does not.

Because the lessons from difficulty teach from an entirely different book. And the lessons from suffering and pain are the ones that make us more human, more tender and more able to help and serve a hurting world.

And we know that all things work together for the good of those who love God- those whom he has called… Romans 8:28.

But don’t we know how profoundly they are suffering when they stumble and fall and go home empty from these events. Don’t we know. Can’t we suffer alongside them, in our common humanity. In our shared state of being human and frail, vulnerable.

Don’t we feel deep in our bones and in our flesh and in our soul, the bruising and banging of the hurt. Of the falling just short, or very short, or way way off the mark entirely.

Don’t we long to change the story. Change their story. Edit, re-write the parts of hurt and suffering.

Don’t we long to re-wind the tape and turn the tide back for them. And let them start again afresh, anew. A second time. Don’t we want for them a do-over.

Don’t we want for them to win what they came for.

But their stories, when they stumble will be beautiful in loss.

And their stories will wear a crown of victory if they let them. And all the hurt and pain can be written into something beautiful in the end.

And the moments of hurt and pain can be redeemed. By Him who makes all things new.

If I were an Olympic judge I would give them gold for being a participant in the event. In this event of living this always wonderful always beautiful, sometimes difficult life.

And as they reach their hand for the medal I would say always remember” His mercies are new everyday.”

Now get back out there and finish your story. Your beautiful story that is your life.

Joining with Jennifer today at GDWJ.

And with Duane at Unwrapping His Promises and also for the first time here as well……

 


Thanksgiving In July

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 9 Comments

They move from event to event, stoic, chin-up with game faces squarely on.

Determined, fierce-competitors, steely-glass eyes starring the moment directly in the face without blinking. Unflinching. Taking on the challenges with grace.Brave. Unwavering. Strong. And appearing to all the world as though they have no fear.

Mighty warriors on the world stage. Grace on display in diminuative packages. And they amaze.

I watch these young Olympians strong-jawed and graceful, gymnasts who take my breath away with their poise, beauty,and skill packed in lovely small packages of pure muscle.

They are like marathon runners pacing their emotion. Pacing the celebration and victorious grins and all-out over-joyed thanksgiving for their wins, the milestones.

Because until they are finished, they must pack their bags and unwrap their wrist-wrappings and move to the next big event.

But I am not an Olympic gymnast. Very far from it. But sometimes if I am not careful I will move fists clenched and jaw tight from one event to another without stopping to rest in moments of thanksgiving and praise for God’s goodness.

And I have seen God’s goodness in many areas of my life. So I have to stop. And be still for long moments of the heart. To let myself catch up with my living. To let the soul soak in the worth savoring. Because I have seen break-through’s and they are worthy of noting with praising lips.

They are worthy of big Alleluias and Hallelujahs back to the Giver. They deserve a return of praise. They require a thank you note of the heart.

If I am not careful I will race ahead without engaging my heart and soul in a long grateful embrace. The moment worth the long savor risks being passed over. The answered prayer of the heart and lips risks going by without an outpouring of gratitude.

I will rush ahead of myself and God into the forward moving moments of life. Without rightful praise. Without rightful thanksgiving. Without giving the breakthrough its long celebration of being born into my life. I risk being stalled out and stuck in a place of forward moving living which races into the next without pausing and looking long on the beautiful miraculous milestones of God gifts of the now.

The now is so deserving. The right this minute is so worthy of marking and noting. And of celebrating.

I see these as the happy middles. No longer wanting to desire only the happy endings in life, but rather finding joy in the happy middle moments. The good stuff on the way. The stumble upon small things which are truly grand. Like the small Olympic gymnasts we pack a pint sized punch, these little life-moments are grander and more glorious than we often give them credit for. They are huge if we but stop and marvel.

Just because its good. And just because The Giver of Good Gifts, a holy God, has given with and in Love.

If I miss the opportunity to walk into His presence with praise, I miss a holy moment of intimacy with God. And we were made by Him to praise Him. The praiseworthy moments then, are just what we were created for.

And some just seem due a longer pause, a wider smile, and an even more joyful heart. I don’t know why they seem to stand out, accept that when you journey with Him and cry out to Him, and pray to Him, there are moments which feel so glorious. Maybe its the ones we thought we’d never live to see. Or maybe its the ones that come after long periods of drought or what feels like extra-long waiting. Maybe its the ones which look so transformative as to have God’s mark, His handiwork so beautifully displayed that we are in awe. Of His Goodness. And His Love. Maybe it’s the ones that have a bit of the prodigal son peppered in the narrative.

That God in His mercy works beautiful gifts into  every day is worth an outpouring of gratitude every day. But sometimes it feels hand-stamped,hand-delivered right to the door of our hearts. Because it is.

It always is when it comes from God. And thanks be to Him, the Giver of Good Gifts.

Counting gifts today. And it truly feels like Thanksgiving in July. And grateful to Ann and her book 1000 Gifts for helping point me in a grateful direction of the heart.

*a beautiful worship service yesterday with glorious music and a very very funny guest preacher. Joy in the laughter echoing all through the sanctuary.

*a transformation in a relationship. Restoration, love, and tenderness.

*a moment to mark and celebrate a moment with a mother in church which involved seeing great things in the lives of our sons.Seeing her beautiful tears of joy at God’s hand in our lives. A gift.

*Seeing my man/child in his new home loving His job and seeing glimpses into his future with his career. Feeling God’s hand of protection and love on his life.

*Hearing my middle son say how much he enjoyed our family day together, after not wanting to participate. Hearing him proclaim the joy in the day. Amazing. Grace. A mother’s heart hears how very much we are wired to be in relationship.

* Four of the five riding back from Charleston and my daughter looking out at the marsh and marking the beauty. Then, passing the river and marking the beauty. Her words of longing to be on the beautiful water. Seeing her mark beauty.

* Hearing my son sing in church.

*watching the Olympics with my family

*Mother-daughter time of fellowship with friends laughing and savoring and spending hours, the four, for a celebration of birthdays. It is good. Friendship.

*Finally telling my husband how very badly my heart desires a literal white-picket fence, and having him sweetly receive, and try to see where and how he can provide my silly heart’s desire for one.

*A loving text message filled with gratitude from someone in my life, early this morning. A welcomed-Monday morning sight for these eyes.

*Seeing the joy in a woman’s heart upon receiving home-communion yesterday. Seeing  the power in breaking the communion wafer for someone for the first time. The beauty. The holy of the moment. Grateful for the opportunity to serve. Seeing her touched by the love of Jesus.

Writing in community today with Ann, who is helping me develop a heart of gratitude. And I am joining with Michelle at Graceful today.

Beyond Metaphors

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 8 Comments

Today is 5 Minute Friday where we just write freely for five minutes on a one word prompt. Today’s word is Beyond.. Let’s see…. beyond. Go.

Like launching a rocket into another galaxy or launching a stone from a sling shot.

Like gently tossing a stone on a pond to ripple and skip along its way.

Like sending a carrier pigeon on its way with messages for the world, holding hope on one’s breathe that he arrives, delivers, and returns.

And like a feathered mother on her nest with her owl babies, oh my favorite book, oh the memories of that book and my children in my lap, they and she and me and my trioed tribe.

And its beyond words and metaphors. Its past containment of bounds of language.

Its a language unto itself, a leaving language, a language of beyond the familiar, beyond this home.

Its launching your first born from your nest into the wild, into the blue, into the great beyond this place called home. Into that place called other.

And though you knew it was coming its beyond mother-human comprehension how it would ever feel, when he has a life, a church, a home, a refrigerator filled with 25 cent yogurt, and he is way beyond your four walls.

And he is standing upright.

And somehow the world still spins on its axis and the sun still rises and sets.

And you know there is nothing out there that can catch up, equal or surpass a mother’s love.

Stop.

(disclaimer- grace required a minute or so over as a mother’s heart gushed past 5 minutes. Thanks for the grace, friends.)

Linking up today for 5 Minute Friday’s with Lisa Jo Baker dot com.