Tag: quotes

Up On The Tightrope Wire

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ 17 Comments

“A well-developed sense of humor is the pole that adds balance to your steps as you walk the tightrope of life”  –William Arthur Ward

I may have lost it.  My sense of humor that is.  Do you know the guards at Buckingham Palace.  The ones who stand guard like concrete statues.The ones  you cannot get to flinch, to smile, to giggle, to break their poker face icey stares. That is me.  If this mothering gig doesn’t work out I have a great chance of signing on at Buckingham Palace as the first female guard.  You cannot break this stone-face stare.

I stand guard at the threshold of my home.  These teenagers and occassionally our adult child have to pass through my icey stare and answer all the questions.  How was this?  How was that?  Fun right.  And I don’t blink.  This job of mine has such dire consequences, if I stumble and fall,  they ALL fall down.

Or so I believe.  What if the first thing they see is a smile? Will they reflect joy.  What if the first thing they are met with is a warm embrace.  Will they reflect compassion. What if I warmly insert  humor in my third degree line of questioning.

I am bone-tired of standing like a soldier, guarding my chicks like a stoic mother-hen.  Wait can a hen be stoic.  What if a grade slips, or a curfew isn’t met, or an errand isn’t completed on time.  Or sunscreen isn’t worn, or a pill isn’t taken, or youth-group is missed to go support a friends soccer match.  What if.  What is the worst thing that can happen.

“A cheerful disposition is good for your health; gloom and doom leave you bone-tired.”- Proverbs 17:22

I need to cheer-up this disposition of mine.  I need a spirit of cheerfulness and light-heartedness.  Pronto.

To remind myself that I had not lost my sense of humor I went and found a picture  of myself smiling.  Gosh it is so old. It may have been taken before Mayberry went into re-reuns.

I am going to find a recent one of me laughing so I know there is potential there.

This tightrope act.  This thing we call balance.  It is just plain hard.  When to speak and when to listen.  When to reprimand, when to remain silent.  When to  speak words of praise, encouragement, discipline,challenge,love, hope and pride.  When to rein in.  When to loose the grip, the grasp on these children we love so, and when to tighten and cinch in the boundaries.

When to press in on standards and conformity, and when to let loose  to allow and even encourage creativity and individuality to flow freely.

I love what they are becoming and who they are becoming.  In Christ.

But as it says in the Proverbs, “gloom and doom leave you bone-tired.”  It is time for a season of laughter.  Of joy.  Of smiling and letting little things just lie.

I need humor to walk this tightrope of life.  I may stumble and I may fall.  I may slip up and fail.  No, I will stumble, I will fall, I will fail, but I want to go down with a smile on my face.  I want my children to see joy and laughter in my contenance.

I want them to experience Grace when they are in my presence.  I want it to wear a smile.

And I don’t want to move to London this close to Mother’s Day.

How Two Pieces of Mail Change This Blogger(Or This Isn’t Heaven…)

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ Leave a comment

On the way to my meet up with other moms and kiddos I stop at the mailbox and grab a handful.  Two pieces of mail hand addressed with my name there.  The specialness oozes off the pearly white envelope and I rip them open and read.

My eyes glance down to read the cover of a beautiful card.  The words speak sweet encouragment, “It’s what we do for Christ in the HERE and NOW that will make a difference in the then and there.” — Max Lucado. And inside it reads, Thanks for making an eternal difference.

I open it and the eyes of my heart follow like a trail of sweet bread crumbs each individual cryptic signature.  Each one precious.  Each one is that of a child.  And I feel like I have been bunched in the stomache.  I am almost breatheless.  This card was not meant for me.

Looking for clues, I look for a return address and an adult’s name somewhere so I can return this card to the intended recipient.  I search my mind for someone’s name in town who is easily confused with my name.  I plan my route after my scheduled appointment.  I will go to the school and find which class these children are in.  I believe this card, so ripe with thank-you’s, bursting with gratitude is meant for a teacher.

“To the loved; a word of affection is a morsel, but to the love-starved, a word of affection  can be a feast.”– Max Lucado

I had wanted to feast on the gratitude.  I wanted to swim in the sentiment dellivered by children’s sweet fingers and hands.  I want to prop up this card in my kitchen and rest for days in the love and the thanks that so tenderly lived on this cardboard rectangle.


At lunch, I ask my friends to help me review the clues so I can deliver this note to the deserving one.  We study, we stare, we think, we problem solve, we read each child’s name to see what the connection might be, the common thread, why they are thanking, why they feel grateful, what group are they a part of, what do they have in common, these kids.

For an hour my mind is racing and I am rattled by guilt.  Why haven’t I done more.  Why don’t I do more. How can I make an eternal difference in  the lives of children.  Am I making an eternal difference in the life of my three.  There are opportunities I have missed.  Things left unsaid.  Times I could have stepped up and served. Missed chances to make that elusive eternal difference.

With all of the graduations this month of nieces and children and friends,  I want to graduate too.  I want to step off the podium with a diploma in hand.  My heart needs to move on and close out the chapter I am stuck on entitled “Guilt” and “Shame.”  Because I let a card sear my heart with guilt.  And worry and anxiety about balance and volunteering and helping and doing and being.

“When grace moves in…guilt moves out.”– Max Lucado

I want a passing grade in the class on “How Not To Get Entangled In Comparison, It Will Rob Your Joy.”

I just know I will smile and pass this card on to the deserving woman who has made an eternal difference.  Before the day is over, she will be so blessed to receive a note that was penned in love for her.

We sit and chat over lunch and I am pondering how I can serve more, and better and how and where and what will it look like. And suddenly  the mystery is solved.

There was another piece of mail for me that day.  It was beautifully handwritten and it was gracious in its thank-you’s.  Each line of gratefulness inspired me to serve and use the gifts God has given me more often.  But beyond that it inspired me to thank more often with the written word.  I read the note three times or more.  It was gracious and lovely and a gift in itself.  I had helped at a luncheon but I was the one who was infused with fellowship and laughter and left holding wonderful memories of women together doing community.  It was I who was helped, re-charged, and re-invigorated by women fellowshipping together, laughing together, and showing gratitude together.  The note was kind and it inspires me to thank in that way much more often.

So two notes in my mailbox lead me to Max Lucado’s loving word.

“Lower your expectations on earth. This isn’t heaven, so don’t expect it to be.”–Max Lucado

And the children were grateful.  And the card about doing and making a difference was meant for me.  I had supplied pizza for my two teenagers youth group and they graciously thanked me.

But the gift was that I was stirred to give guilt-free pondering on how to serve in my community. Once I settled down from my knee-jerk reaction of loads of guilt and racing thoughts about finding the woman who I am comparing myself to.  And giving her the card. The one that was intended for me.

Comparing myself always and everytime to others leaves a feeling of less than.  Of being not enough.

I want to hold on to the diploma marked “Grace”.  And to politely usher out the guilt that wants to rob me of Joy.

What about you.

Thank you God for your loving, Amazing Grace.  Amen? Amen!

Seeing More Clearly Through A Lense of Grace and Mercy

~ Elizabeth W. Marshall ~ Leave a comment

Blinded by the light.  Its difficult to see.  Feeling unsafe behind the wheel.  Hoping to be home and safe soon.  I am vulnerable and I am challenged. The eye doctor dilates my eyes and every ray of sun causes a wince, bringing hand to eye for cover and protection. I am not seeing well.  I am not seeing clearly.  I want to go home. I know this is temporary.  I am certain my vision will improve.  I’ve been told it will take two hours.  But in this time I am reminded of what it feels like to see unclearly, to see the world in a blur, missing detail.  Things are askew.  Things are murky, cloudy and off a beat a bit. There are so many times when I do not see the what’s right there. Someone has unspoken pain and I do not see the what’s behind the surface. Someone is struggling with a life circumstance and I do not see clearly the effect it has on words and actions. There is a hidden fact or emotion which I do not see, cannot see, or even will not see. Things are hidden away.  Buried down deep. Out of sight. Out of plain view.  Things that require sweet Mercy and Grace to see with tenderness and understanding.  Like my dilated eyes preventing clarity, the blur of the eyes of the heart can slant and cripple,distort  the ability to see with Kingdom Eyes.   “You can’t go on ‘seeing through’ things forever. The whole point of seeing through something is to see something through it. To ‘see through’ all things is the same as not to see”. — C.S. Lewis, “The Abolition of Man”. But when I put on the lense of Grace and my heart looks out through a lense of Mercy, I begin to see with understanding and love.  The facts or circumstances causing the blurry are less important.  The pieces of the puzzle missing matter less now.  My eyes are more aligned with the heart of God.  Mercifully I see.  The blur of pain causing a skewed understanding fades when I look in love.  His love.  Handicapped on my own.  Unable to see clearly without Him.  Needing the corrective lense on life of the spirit of God, needing a shift in my fleshy perspective, needing a glimpse of His people through the eyes of Jesus.“The litmus test of our love for God is our love of neighbor.” — Brennan Manning.

I want to see clearly, lovingly, tenderly, mercifully.  And I want to see past and through the circumstances- both my own and those of others.  I want to see the hard to see places and yet see nothing, embracing and loving the hard and the unlovable.  Loving in an all out way where all becomes invisible in love but that which matters.  They are my family, my friends, my neighbors. I want to love Gracefully and Mercifully in the blur of life, the blur of pain, the blur of hurt, and the blur of circumstances.

Eyes of Mercy and Eyes of Grace shift perspective, shift view, and opinion and judgement.  A lense of Grace and a lense of Love allow compassion and tenderness to focus the eyes of the heart lovingly, kindly, and oh so sweetly to see Beauty each and every time.  To see the shadow of the Cross and the bright clear love reigning down from Heaven.

My vision is still off.  I feel the sting of the blurr of my vision being manipulated by the doctor.  And I know how fragile the eyes are, especially the eyes of my heart.  I know how quickly I am prone to look out not in love, but in judgement, in criticism, in hyper-sensitivity and without empathy.

So I lean hard on Him as a blind woman leans on a cane.  Crippled am I, handicapped am I without any strength on my own.  With the vision of a sinner, blind to others, stumbling into others, running hard into pain and causing it myself, I need the Shephard’s staff.

Mercifully He offers.  Mercifully He leads.

Amazing Grace.  A view of life like no other, through the lense of Grace.