Jesus loves me, this I know. This category is about Jesus, the Living Word, my prayers to Him, my worship of Him, His relentless pursuit of my heart and His invitation to me to come to Him in Sabbath, my Savior, my Rest.
Stormie sent that greeting and a report that they are in Taiwan and loving it like crazy!
They are 11 hours ahead of us so when they sit in their 3rd floor common area/sitting room breathing in the moist, heavy air and send little messages at night after they’ve led worship for a gathering, I am happy to find their greetings in the inbox come morning!
TAIWAN, google image until Stormie starts sending!
Stormie writes:
“…We have the window open and are listening to a street musician play something I think might be called a two-hu but I’m not sure…it’s some two stringed instrument and there is a wonderful breeze coming in. It is really overcast here but I love it!”
Dave, Tara, Hunter-Magoo and Stormie left DIA last night headed for Taiwan. Due to the time change and length of the flight, they are pretty much losing the entire last day of the year, but will experience New Years multiple times as they cross varios time zones. I am not sure how that works. I just know they are currently flying far, far away.
This is Hunter’s first international trip and he has been preparing for some time, getting that passport ready and deciding what he will say to “the nations.” He was born for this!
Dave, Tara and Stormie will be leading worship (and some speaking/teaching) at missionary and young adult training conferences for people from all over Asia with the Christian Missionary Alliance group. They start in Taiwan and will spend the last several days in Japan before getting back in mid-January.
Agreement.
The kids travel the world. I stay home and pray. That is our agreement. And this particular trip, I feel led to pray that the love of God will be increased in their hearts, that they will be motivated by that kind of love – that John 3.16 love for the world and that their ministry will pour from hearts filled with love for the people they will come in contact with. You can pray these things over my kids, too, if you’d like, in agreement, because where two or moreagree…
Isaiah 12.5 Sing to the LORD for He has done glorious things; let this be known to all the world.
Psalm 96 …Say among the nations…
Matthew 5 You are the salt of the earth…You are the light of the world
And may that same love that has made the truth of John 3.16 the great hope and central truth of everything be in you.
Adopt our Troops in Prayer.I just adopted John V. who is in the army and is married to Aubrie. I will be praying for them daily!
Today is a good day to pray for our Troops!
As our military faces great scrutiny during this hustle-and-bustle of holiday activity 2009, and the talking-news-channel- heads denounce our presence in other countries, even questioning humanitarian efforts, there are those who are serving us faithfully, night and day. Regardless of our own political opinions and views (which they defend our right to have), they deserve our prayers.
An email forward, of all things.
This came in one of those pass-it-on emails. I have no idea who wrote it, but it reminded me of young men and women, especially right now when we hold our families close and celebrate Christmas with gifts and gatherings and eggnog and merriment, who are already in Iraq or Afghanistan or other nations around the world or will be deployed shortly. And I am sobered and humbled by their sacrifice. And reminded to pray.
Part Boy. Part Man.
The average age of the military man is 19 years. He is a short haired, tight-muscled kid who, under normal circumstances is considered by society as part man, part boy. He’s not yet dry behind the ears, not old enough to buy a beer, but old enough to die for his country. He never really cared much for work and he would rather wax his own car than wash his father’s, but he has never collected unemployment either.
He’s a recent High School graduate; he was probably an average student, pursued some form of sport activities, drives a ten year old jalopy, and has a steady girlfriend that either broke up with him when he left, or swears to be waiting when he returns from half a world away. He listens to rock and roll or hip-hop or rap or jazz or swing and a 155mm howitzer.
He is 10 or 15 pounds lighter now than when he was at home because he is working or fighting from before dawn to well after dusk. He has trouble spelling, thus letter writing is a pain for him, but he can field strip a rifle in 30 seconds and reassemble it in less time in the dark. He can recite to you the nomenclature of a machine gun or grenade launcher and use either one effectively if he must.
He digs foxholes and latrines and can apply first aid like a professional.
He can march until he is told to stop, or stop until he is told to march.
He obeys orders instantly and without hesitation, but he is not without spirit or individual dignity. He is self-sufficient.
He has two sets of fatigues: he washes one and wears the other. He keeps his canteens full and his feet dry and knows how to fold his socks the right way.
He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never to clean his rifle. He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes, and fix his own hurts.
If you’re thirsty, he’ll share his water with you; if you are hungry, his food. He’ll even split his ammunition with you in the midst of battle when you run low.
He has learned to use his hands like weapons and weapons like they were his hands.
He can save your life – or take it, because that is his job.
He will often do twice the work of a civilian, draw half the pay, and still find ironic humor in it all.
He has seen more suffering and death than he should have in his short lifetime.
He has wept in public and in private, for friends who have fallen in combat and is unashamed..
He feels every note of the National Anthem vibrate through his body while at rigid attention, while tempering the burning desire to ‘square-away ‘ those around him who haven’t bothered to stand, remove their hat, or even stop talking. In an odd twist, day in and day out, far from home, he defends their right to be disrespectful.
Just as did his Father, Grandfather, and Great-grandfather, he is paying the price for our freedom. Beardless or not, he is not a boy. He is the American Fighting Man that has kept this country free for over 200 years.
He has asked nothing in return, except our friendship and understanding. Remember him, always, for he has earned our respect and admiration with his blood.
And let us not forget the women also serving over there in danger, doing their part in this tradition of going to War when our nation calls us to do so. No entitled princesses here.
‘Lord, hold our troops in Your loving hands… Give them strength and courage as they protect and serve. Guide them through their missions and be a shield before them. Protect them as they protect us. Bless them and their families for the selfless acts they perform for us in our time of need… Amen.’
Of all the gifts you could give a US Soldier, Sailor, Coastguardsman, Marine, or Airman, prayer is the very best one. Please stop for a moment and say a prayer for our ground troops in Afghanistan , sailors on ships, and airmen in the air, and for those in Iraq , Afghanistan and all foreign countries.
Yeah. I can’t help it. I am patriotic and these faces? Bring out the protective mama in me.
Oh I miss the garden of spring, bright green and fairly juicy with surging life, growth visible almost hourly.
The garden of summer, strong, tall, spreading and proud established its rightful territory hosting parties for butterflies and bumblebees while birds swooped and circled overhead for entertainment.
Comes fall and the autumn colors dazzle and your head spins with the abundance and fruitfulness: ripe maturity and the reward of the work of your hands. You gather and enjoy as quickly as you can, more than you’d hoped or dreamed for, more than enough. What will you do with the excess? The garden, only months earlier bare soil, became a hypnotic haven overgrown with delicious joy and frolic, intoxicating verdancy, flourishing symbiosis and riotous vitality.
Winter.
Winter. The winds have blown away the brown crispiness from branches no longer green in a purifying poof. And just like that – bare, faded, stark and desolate woody shrubs etch their way across the landscape looking for all the world like death in this blustery cold. I am forced inside where I stand at the window wondering why. What has happened in the Magic Kingdom?
The snow covers it all. The snow keeps falling and floating across the Magic garden Kingdom, and has settled decidedly upon each branch and every surface, carefully tucking itself around all shrubs and trees, blanketing the the 4′ x 4′ squares where vegetables once grew abundantly. There is quiescent hush there now where once the sound of the spade dug deep into earth, the fountains bubbled exuberantly and night fires blazed; children laughed and ran around while little weeds were uprooted and branches were pruned and sugar snap peas were hungrily crunched upon right then and there in the verdant Kingdom.
Covering.
But the snow covers all now and despite my sadness at the loss of earlier, greener days, the snow serves its true purpose hiding the ground, preventing the heat generated by the earth from escaping. This blanket of crystal white inhibits the radiant life energy from abandoning the roots of the trees and bushes and plants and they are graced with warmth and protection (often 40-degrees warmer) in the dark, deep soil of winter, regardless of what happens in the visible. Did you know roots have a life-pulse that continues through even the most frigid conditions? When the branches above have been frozen in their tracks by sub-zero temperatures, the roots are active and ready to spring into action at any moment, growing and spreading further and deeper even during the resting phase of winter. The snow covering is grace. The snow is mercy. The snow is a safeguard, a secure shelter for the deepest, most important, most delicate and valuable resources and treasures.
The snow covers it all. It unifies the the browns and grays and wheat-golds of the deciduous stand-bys. For this season, this cold and sometimes hope-dwindling time of year, the snow creates a formal gown of beauty for ashes, of gladness for mourning and becomes a garment of praise instead of despair (Is. 61.3). Sandy-the-Dog runs into the white, kicking up the flakes like dust and hundreds of birds fill the air in shock from where they’d been feasting on berries, but soon realize how harmless she is and go back to stake their claim. I laugh at the sight. Life goes on. In winter white.
He gives beauty for ashes
Strength for fear
Gladness for mourning
Peace for despair
When sorrow seems to surround you
When suffering hangs heavy over your head
Know that tomorrow brings
Wholeness and healing
God knows your need
Just believe what He said
He gives beauty for ashes
Strength for fear
Gladness for mourning
Peace for despair
Crystal Lewis, Beauty for Ashes
Hidden under a canopy of mercy on a melancholy winter’s day…Jeanie
NOTE TO SELF: Spring will come again. My roots will be more established, stronger. Have mercy on me, Lord,have mercy…
pictured: The Magic Kingdom (aka my backyard) in September; and now.
“From my living room window as I write, I can look out across the broad front lawns of our farm like a lovely picture post card of wintry New England. In my fireplace the good cedar logs are burning and crackling. I just stopped to go into my gleaming kitchen to test the crumbly brown goodness of the toasted veal cutlets a la {?} in my oven. Cook these slowly…”Elizabeth Lane (as played by the versatile and provocative Barbara Stanwyck) sitting in her New York apartment (pretending to be on a farm in Connecticut) typing her column for the American Housekeeping Magazine in the movie, “Christmas in Connecticut”
No toasted veal cutlets warming in my oven here (I just had a slice of cold pizza for breakfast), but along with a rich cup of steaming-hot coffee I am enjoying a delicious, slow Sunday morning in the Colorado air where a light, dusty snow is falling softly like grace, covering the winter-scarred landscape with a sparkling beauty in a gentle silence. In a pallette of white alone, God manages to cause the somewhat lifeless winter look to awaken in splendor and reveal His mercy-covering nature to a fallen world.
Snow falls like grace and suddenly all things are new again.
“God’s voice thunders in marvelous ways; He does great things beyond our understanding. He says to the snow, ‘Fall on the earth,’ and to the rain, ‘Be a mighty downpour.’ So that all men He has made may know His work, He stops every man from his labor.” Job 37.5-7 NIV
image found on google: Rocky Mountain Reflections Photography, Inc. by Andy Cook
Did you see the full moon last night, first all huge and orangy just emerging over the horizon and then bright in the blue, white-puffy-cloud sky? Oh it was gorgeous (from my seat in the car in the church parking lot where it took a full half hour to warm up!). The stars were twinkling and the dry snow shimmered in its moonlit bath while I listened to a rather decent selection of Christmas music on Cozy-101.* And it was frigid, frightfully lung-freezing cold at 19-degrees, but there is something so pure, so quiet in that.
This is the only time this year I plan to romanticize winter. It happened. It was beautiful. Now let’s get back to a regular Colorado winter. For crying out loud.
*I want Delilah’s job (weekdays 7pm – midnight on Cozy!). And that cannot be her real name? Come on.
I love http://wordle.net. When I first wrote this post a while back, I was too raw and fearful to actually post it. Thus, the “wordle” seemed a way I could express the anguish I was feeling as my own sinful, black heart was nakedly revealed, without actually exposing the situation. The post has languished in the drafts folder for some time and though I still love the Wordle representation, I believe the original journal-type post has something valuable to say, reminding me to forgive and forgive and forgive, for I need so much forgiveness myself. So, both are here: the Wordle and the words that poured from me in repentance.
I am surprised to discover that embracing offense (becoming “offended”) is often (always?) worse than whatever the original mis-deed was…That I am responsible for my reaction.
I am forgiving you. I am.
I am forgiving you even though you don’t even know I need to because you don’t know what I know, that even I know. But I know too much and yet I have cancelled any and all of your guilt by running after offense to claim as some sort of sick-prize. I owe YOU forgiveness. I do.
I won’t come to you and tell you what you did that ripped my heart. We are fine publicly, but the veil-of-innocent-trust has been ripped and I cannot deny my own guilt in it.
I didn’t want to know, yet, against all good judgement, I craved the knowledge that would cut-so-deep. I was both torn and tantalized by learning about things said, betrayals set on course. I felt rejected and disappointed in your lack of loyalty, and oddly justified for not trusting you in the first place. I have blamed you and raged against you in the hallways of my heart. I have felt sorry for myself and built walls of protection when you come near. I have been party to the devastation, fallen prey to the enemy’s destroying work, relished in self-pity, allowed small darts of offense to fester and ooze and become infectious, contaminating the beauty that once was, and tainting the atmosphere of blessing in my life with a sure-death-march toward a hardened bitterness.
If I really cared about our relationship, I have asked myself, why wouldn’t I come to you to mend it? Various reasons, I suppose. Choose one: fear-of-man? Absolutely. Lack-of-love? Almost certainly. Was it a fear our relationship wouldn’t hold up anyway under the scrutiny? Probably. And because I-am-guilty. I am condemned by my own true lack of love for you. My motivations, if I examine them closely, are about self-preservation, protecting my reputation, my agenda. They are about pretending to take the high road by not having done to you what you did to me, yet, doesn’t that just make me a self-centered, self-protecting “martyr” in the unworthy and ridiculous cause of self?
You may have done a wrong thing, but I magnified it by receiving it fully into my heart, picking up the offense and claiming it as mine ~ my own pride and joy, my ” See? -I-have-been-wronged” trophy. So I wronged you more. My guilt is greater.
I repent. I am forgiving you because my offense (of being offended) is now killing us both.
Mark 11.25 “And when you stand praying, if you hold anything against anyone, forgive him, so that your Father in heaven may forgive you your sins.”
Ageless Beauty walking gently upon the Narrow Path
She runs, she glides, she rests, she makes the journey her home
Eyes roam in search of hidden truths to hold, to grasp and adorn
In never-ending pursuit of the knowledge that evades the apathetic
A solid foundation rooted in love, she unites her family
Her green touch hails life in the dead garden, now fresh and new
With tasks at hand to nurture, to provide, to advise
She shifts in form to embody the need of the moment
Watch on, watch long, wholehearted devotion you will observe
She has an audience in me, I listen and absorb
May I sit beside you, Seasoned Wisdom, on the narrow path?
What will you share? What must I know? What knowledge do I lack?
Speak the words that breathe life in the graveyards of my being
Then, permit the Undeserving to leave you with a wish
Hold no more the woes from seasons Time has now retired
Ageless Beauty, age in grace, grow in love, lie down in peace.
From Tredessa Christine Rhoades, (a very wonderful daughter) in watercolor and ink, on the occasion of my 5oth birthday. At this point in life, you enjoy being described as ageless and timeless. *smile…
Happy Birthday, sweet girl and amazing mommy. Happy Birthday to the one daughter God gave me who was not a moment of work for me: just a gift! Happy Birthday to the wife of my son’s youth, the daughter-in-law, who like Naomi’s daughter-in-law, Ruth in the Bible, is better to me than seven more sons could ever have been. I am blessed among women. I am blessed that you are mine by the choice my son made.
I am so pleased with you, Jovan, so proud of the young woman you are becoming. I know God chose you from way back when for Rocky. And though I did not give you birth, you are my beloved daughter. I thank God for you and I am so glad He chose you for our family. I love that you say you wanted to marry Rocky since you were 14. I love that the long, winding road of life brought that to pass. I love that the two have you have brought us Averi and soon her sibling. You are a life-giver in our midst!
In thinking about your birthday, I got to remembering that about 23 years ago I was asked to join this sweet group of people (the band, Parousia) as a vocalist. They played at Catholic masses, community events and on college campuses around Nebraska. The the first song I did with them was by Wayne Watson and it got a lot of play. Rocky was just a little guy at the time. He was climbing walls and sliding down banisters and making life exciting. And I was asked to sing this song frequently and I think the reason it was very well received was because when I’d sing it, I would purpose singing it over my own children and it was a prayer of my heart. So, in a way, before I ever knew you existed, I was singing this song over you, too:
Somewhere in the world today
A little girl is going out to play
She’s all dressed up in mama’s clothes
At least the way that I suppose it goes
Somewhere in the world tonight
Before she reaches to turn out the light
She’ll be praying from a tender heart
A simple prayer that’s a work of art
And I don’t even know her name
But I’m praying for her just the same
That the Lord will write His name upon her heart
Cause somewhere in the course of this life
A little boy will need a godly wife
So hold on to Jesus, baby, wherever you are
And often I’d change the words the last time through:
Cause somewhere in the course of his life
My little boy will need a godly wife
So hold on to Jesus, baby, wherever you are
And Jovanie? I know for sure that God heard that prayer and began even then to prepare you for our family, to get you ready to be one of us. You were born to be a Rhoades, sweet girl, my daughter and my friend. And I love you so much.
Jovan loves her sweets…and so does her daughter and her nieces and nephews (the five little monkeys)!
Twenty-three wishes for Jovan on her 23rd Birthday:
Look at the sun shining today! It is for your birthday. It is so you can have a happy, happy day!
I wish for you to have a great pregnancy all the way until baby-number-two is born. I hope these months will be full of fun and laughter and anticipation and your memories warm and happy of these days. You are so cute pregnant, girl!
Enjoy crazy-romantic-love with your man. These are baby-days and busy-days, but keep the fires burning. May Rocky love you like a real man should and may you receive it with unabashed joy!
I wish for lots and lots of happy mommy-daughter times with Averi…Gilmore Girls reruns and Cinderella watching!
Jovanie, I pray for you to know Jesus in a closer way than you ever have.
Let this year be a year of discovery: finding out who God really created you to be and what He has really called you to.
I am wishing for a gazillion kids, but no multiple births, as you wish. But you guys make beautiful babies!
May God enlrage your heart with an even greater capacity to love and be loved.
I am praying for deep relationships for you. I am praying the connections and relationships you have, both friendships and family, will develop and grow and be life-giving and true. And I pray God sends you many new friends and puts people in your path both to bless and be blessed by.
I wish sweet times of scrapbooking for you. Those will be hard to come by right now, but I am going to wish for suprise pockets of time for it, anyway. I know you love it.
My wish for you is to find your own beat and to be unapologetic about marching to it.
Jovan, I hope you will understand that you were called to us and will never be afraid to change us and impact us. That is why you’re here!
I am believeing God for financial blessing. They always say you can’t get rich in ministry, but the Lord is your Provider and you guys are rich, but I pray for sufficient funds for planning for the future and raising your family.
I want you to get the house you want, too!
May your creativity continue to blossom and sprinkle color and light and life on everything you touch as you create home and memories for your little family.
I wish for those traveling adventures that you and Rocky love so much to happen a lot over the next year.
I also wish for special days, holidays, holy days and romantic nights to be festive and memorable.
I pray you’ll find the ministry you were born to do and that the ministry things you and Rocky were created to do together will be fulfilling and sweet.
Girl, let me hang with your babies so you can go out without a diaper bag sometimes! Shop. Or whatever you want. I love Averi! Can’t wait for the new little bundle!
Happy Birthday, Jovanie. May there be great and growing joy-of-the-Lord in your heart. It will be your strength!
I am wishing for long nights of sleep, and happy days of rejuvenating living for you.
I am praying for the enemy to have to flee as the perfect love of the Lord drives out all fear and trepidation in your life. You are strong, Jovanie, in the Lord. Don’t be afraid.
And? May heaven hear and answer your prayers as you call out to the God who loves you greatly. You have His ear, my sweet. He is attentive to your heart’s cries.
Happy, Happy Birthday, Jovan. You know I love you, right?…Mom (Jeanie)
Chicken and dumplings at Jovan’s family party, her request. Stef and Gemma, 2 pinkies in the pink and white decor; the pumpkin spice cake with 23 candles.
NOTE TO SELF: Me. Jovan. Creating our legacy books with scissors-in-hand, tape and glue and piles and piles of photographs.
About the party from Facebook:
Tara Powers Status Update:Truth or Dare for Jio’s bday tonight [using Rocky’s I-Pod Touch]. Outcome=Rocky tasting soap, Dessa talking for 3 minutes straight, Steph trying to tell each person one good and one bad thing about themselves {editor’s note: she kinda chickened out – it was her great chance in life to really get us all and she couldn’t do it!}, Tristan speaking with an Italian accent, Jovan describing her first kiss with Rocky, Stormie wearing items from everyone, Mom acting out… Lion King, Me NOT sitting on Rocky’s lap, and Dave telling everyone who he would marry in the room..ME=)
Stephanie Rhoades Kelley: You forgot the best part – when Tristan HAD to kiss me – thank you Lord that I was sitting on his right and not someone else! *smile…
TAIWAN, google image until Stormie starts sending!
