Heart Song

Tear your hearts,

Not just your clothes,

And return to the Lord your God.

Joel 2:13

"In right, outright, upright, downright, happy all the time;"

I had nursery with my friends a few weeks ago.

An infant, a toddler, and twenty five three year olds ready to dismantle the church. Ok, maybe that's a slight exaggeration. There weren't really more than seven preschoolers I don't think, and there were three of us.  The ratios still seemed significantly slanted to their side.  As puzzles, clay, and stories devolved into chase each other around the table, in some desparation we began singing old Sunday School songs.

It was somewhat successful, I guess.  At least they stopped running around the room throwing plush fish at each other, but to my surprise, they didn't really join in.  They just dropped down on the rug on their bellies, propped their chins in their hands, and stared at us like they expected a stage production.

I'm not quite sure what you'd call what they got, but it did keep them entertained until their parents got back anyway.

In right

       upright,

                 tear your hearts

Out right

         downright

                   not just your clothes.

It's so much easier to watch than participate,

               but where's the joy in that? 

Friend of the Fatherless

"...Assyria will not save us,
we will not ride on horses,
and we will no longer proclaim 'Our gods!'
to the works of our hands.
For the fatherless receives compassion in You."
Hosea 14: 3





Fatherless in a patriarchal society, left without protection, provision, or pride, they threw themselves on the mercies of compassion. Can we really come in any other way?

An ally of power and strength commands our trust and loyalty, like a schoolyard bully demanding honor for the gift of protection.

Towering on horses, exalting in wealth and confidence, we rest on the
pride of the work of our hands until it crumbles to dust at a touch.

Empty, alone, we can finally approach, for the gift of all that we need.

Winter Wanderings

The dog is pacing again, she's driving me crazy. Every winter she gets like this; clickety clack across the kitchen, into the living room and back to the kitchen, staring and whining at the door, begging to go out yet again.

I don't know if it's nerves or confusion or latent memories of her puppy days. It's not because she wants to be out in the snow, not anymore anyway. She loved it once, she'd run her nose through pile of fluff and jump like a rabbit through the drifts, running and barking and begging the kids to join her.

Now she goes out and she comes back in. She snatches her treat and wanders downstairs, then comes back within minutes to pace and whine again.

I wonder if she does it while we're gone all day. Surely not, she definitely expects some result, and she's smart enough to know that nothing's going to happen if no one is here to listen.

So what is it she really wants, another treat, a change of scenery, or does she just hope every minute that surely it will be different this time?

I can relate to that I guess, in the midst of a storm night obsession of watching the weather over and over, of wondering if there's going to be a snow day, as if my attention will make any difference in what the final result will be.

Coax the dog downstairs, turn off the tv, and convince us both to accept whatever will be.