Author: Jackie

Perhaps it was a radical idea to plan the silly shoe day for a Wednesday.

Whether or not I should have, that’s what I did… grade four marched loudly and proudly into the church for devotions with the whole school. They were wearing an odd assortment of their mom’s high heeled boots, big animal slippers, cowboy boots, silly socks, and sandals.

This parade was led by the instigator of this madness, otherwise known as the grade four teacher. What adorned my feet? A pair of very fuzzy, very large bear paw slippers…

So maybe some of the students think I’m a crazy teacher. Maybe some of my co-teachers questioned my professionality skills. Teaching is a profession… but teachers shape the childhood of their students.

I don’t believe children should have a professional childhood. They need to have fun and make memories amid all the life lessons they’re learning… and sometimes, it does my adult heart good to join in the fun with them. To show them how, by my example.

I wore the slippers. I felt ridiculous. I have received a number of double takes, second looks, and horrified stares from the older students. But mostly, their shock is fading into amused smiles. They know I’m doing this for my students.

And maybe, they’re subconciously absorbing the truth that it’s okay to be yourself, to not let the fear of other’s opinions keep you from truly living.

An eighth grader approached me in the hall, walking with his usual swagger. He tried hard to ignore me. I could tell he wanted to maintain stoicism. But his eyes kept glancing back at my feet until finally, a glimmer of a smile played on his lips…

Yes! Mission accomplished. I have given someone a reason to smile.

Lord, send all of my loved ones a reason to smile today… with a brief moment of amusement, a word of encouragement, or a comforting whisper from You.

Use me, Father, to create reasons for those around me to smile. Speak through me the words their hearts may need, even if I am unaware of being used in this way. I am Yours… we all belong to You. Love Your people through me in little ways, and transform the simple moments into great miracles.

Friend, if you want to make a difference… start by living freely. Only when you forget yourself can you reach out to others.

And don’t stress about finding the perfect mission… it may be something as simple as wearing a pair of slippers that brightens someone’s day.

Life is so full of various things…

Joy. Agony. Contentment. Yearning.

Each contrasting element so very real… so undeniably present.

The intensity of all these feelings sounds overwhelming. I confess that some days, it does feel like I might drown.

Yet truly, I haven’t struggled too much with the presence of all these things in my life.

Because I also feel the intense presence of God.

The confidence that I am exactly where He wants me to be, even if I don’t know where He’s taking me.

As long as I am in the center of His will for me, what can shake me?

In the middle of everything that’s going on, I have peace.

Deep, solid, unshakeable peace.

I have no idea how God’s plan will unfold for my life. I don’t understand why He allows complexities, heartaches, and all the situations I face that raise questions with no answers.

But I know this: my Father knew my whole story before He created my life. He drew every step of my life map. And where He wrote hard times into the journey, I am confident that He has also written a pathway through them.

Because I believe this about Him, it is my Father Who I turn to when the intensity of life gets too deep for me.

When my soul doesn’t know what to pray for, He speaks in the stillness. “Sit still, my daughter, until thou know how the matter shall fall.” (Ruth 3:18 KJV)

And my heart whispers a feeble, “Yes, Father.”

The struggle is still present. The battles are not over. My questions are as large as before.

But in that Holy Spirit moment, my soul finds rest.

Because peace is not the absence of trouble… It is the Presence of God.

Closeness.

Bonded.

Together.

Several words swirled in my mind today as I tried to name the sensation that settled into my heart early this morning.

My heart was heavy as I arrived at work, no arguing that. Usually I can count on someone else to be having an extra cheerful morning and inspire me to be positive.

But today, I knew I wasn’t the only one feeling discouraged. The rest of them would be, too. Wondering how we would ever manage to hold eachother up, I trudged toward the door… and an uncertain day.

Everyone arrived for our Friday morning prayer meeting. Usually, attendance is sporadic. I wondered, as the stream of solemn faces came into the room, if they also craved the nameless something I was seeking. That had fueled my determination to be there.

We gathered around the table as usual. No one had any answers. Everyone seemed exhausted, like myself. The same questions were going through their minds as I had wrestled with last night.

But I knew in my heart, this is what we need.

Sitting together, talking, praying, crying. Allowing ourselves to be real. Not pretending everything’s okay when it isn’t. Declaring our commitment to face this together. Not hiding our emotions, but leaning on eachother. Leaning on God together.

I left that prayer meeting still weary, but convinced that what we had just experienced… this painful but precious something will be our survival. And that thought made me stronger as I headed to my desk to face to day.

All day the deep feeling of security stayed with me that had begun while praying together. Many words swirled in my head, but none quite described the entirety of what we shared.

I finally came to one all-encompassing word… communion.

A noun with several different meanings, which combined totally describe the experience.

1 – a group of persons having a common religious faith. Yes, we all find our Source of strength in the One True God – we have the same Father.

2 – association; fellowship. We are going to get to know each other better through fellowship if we have the courage to associate with each other. Not becoming our own islands.

3 – interchange or sharing of thoughts or emotions; intimate communication. Talking it out is valuable, but sometimes very difficult. Thankfully communion isn’t limited to words. There is nothing wrong with the communion of tears cried together, or simply sitting in silence. Drawing strength from another’s presence.

4 – the act of sharing, or holding in common; participation. Although everyone reacts differently to hard times that come in life, we do all face the same situation. The decision to face this together and pray together is a strengthening bond of our communion.

We truly share a common union in that we are all affected by this situation. It affects each of us differently and to varying degrees, of which we need to be sensitive. But it affects us all nonetheless, therefore creating a common union.

Since we share a common union, it only seems right that we help eachother through this time by engaging in communion with eachother.

“Bear ye one another’s burdens and so fulfill the law of Christ.” Galatians 6:2

The song in my heart changed course today.

There have been questions. Notes of fear playing in the melody. I tried to deny them… they have no place in the beautiful song I want to continue.

But today I had to face reality. There’s no hiding, there’s no changing it.

And to keep on singing now? I always sing. Only when life is really low do I find myself without a song on my lips.

Today was one of those times. There are moments when you need to just let yourself cry. Allow the song to fade out while you try to process what you’ve just learned.

As I drove home in the foggy dark, the weather matched my outlook. Bleak. I followed my usual route, completely numb. Drained. Spent and exhausted.

The tears started again as I parked my car. I sat there for a time, but I knew I had to go inside. Even when it feels like everything is caving in, time continues. Life continues, and needs to be lived.

I stepped out of the car, numb again, and started wearily for the house. No moon or stars shone… too cloudy. Yet there seemed to be a glow brightening the darkness, and I was comforted to know that the moon is always there. Even when clouds hide it.

I was nearly to the house when I realized I was softly singing. Slow, soft, and low… but my song had not been extinguished.

“Oh, God our Help in ages past…”

Yes, He’s had His hand over each of our lives from before we were born.

“Our hope for years to come.”

God has a plan, even in this, my heart whispered. Whispers of flickering faith are okay, too. Sometimes that’s all we can manage.

“Our Shelter from the stormy blast… and our eternal Home.”

My voice faltered on those words. I may have been very off key, and certainly it was not a performance worthy of any grand cathedral. But it was my heart whispering its song. From the depths of my souls anguish.

Whispering that no matter what, God will be there. God will be enough.

And when things are difficult, God is still with us. Whispering comfort through the fog… in the faintest moonlight, when my flame is just as faint, God still whispers peace.

“Carry your candle, run to the darkness…”

The sound of every voice in the all school choir filled the darkened auditorium… and 164 candles glowed brightly in the hands of those who were singing with all their hearts.

Standing in the director’s position, my heart swelled with the music as all of our hard work was finally culminated in one final, amazing performance.

One candle could not produce much light, but all together they made a beautiful glow as everyone extended their arms toward the ceiling… “Let’s raise our candles, light up the sky!”

The scene nearly took my breath away. Because life is so much like those individual candles, all together casting a brilliant glow over the shadows.

The program evening was a delightful blend of sweet little moments, all together creating a very special evening.

Students smiling shyly and nervously as they arrive at school in their best clothes for the evening Christmas program.

Childish giggles as they play Twister in uncomfortable shoes.

Singing “Jingle Bells” at the top of our voices while stomping to the beat – an excellent way to release the nervous jitters we were all dealing with.

Sitting on the front bench bursting with pride in my students as sheep raced up the church aisle, shepherds discovered Jesus, and the innkeeper accepted the Truth and Light.

The incredible feeling of success as 23 childish voices sweetly sang “Seek this Jesus.”

Giving a reassuring smile to a very nervous looking child in the choir… and seeing his expression relax as he refocused on his teacher who was directing the song.

A victory hug with my co teacher after our students performed their skit and song… and the dramatic “awww, please!” of our fourth grade innkeeper.

Conversations with the parents of “my” children… the beaming smiles as I exited the church leading kindergarten after mass choir…

So many little moments. So many little lights. Euphoria. Glowing.

“And great multitudes came together to hear, and to be healed by him of their infirmities. And he withdrew himself into the wilderness and prayed.” Luke 5:15,16

Lately I’ve become aware of the many places throughout the gospels that say Jesus withdrew himself to pray. In the verse above, Jesus was faced with crowds of people who desired something that only He could give them. In various ways, they needed Him to serve them.

And His response? He withdrew Himself… and prayed.

He knew the work was great. It didn’t go away. But He knew it would never be finished as long as time continues… and He also knew He could not effectively do His Father’s work unless He regularly communicated with His Father.

Jesus set a beautiful example for us in His act of quietly stepping back from the work for a time of rest and prayer. As human beings, we will wear out if we don’t occasionally pause in our work to spend time caring for our physical and spiritual needs.

Sometimes it seems like the work will never end, and truly, if we’re dedicated workers for the Kingdom of God, there will be work as long as we live.

Some days the mountain of need looks overwhelming. But Christ doesn’t ask us to climb His mountains of service alone. In fact, He calls us by His own perfect example to rest.

To step back, to pray, to ask Him what to do next, and how… instead of continuing in a blind frenzy until we burn out.

Listen to the needs of your soul and body. Take a rest. Pray. When you are rejuvenated, the work will still be there. Then rise up and continue serving where He calls you!

I am a logical person.

I prefer math over grammar.

I like things to be black and white, clear and simple, have all of the loose ends tied into neat square knots.

I want clear, logical solutions to problems.

Guess what? If you’ve spent any amount of time in the existence we all know as “life,” then you know what’s coming: life isn’t that easy.

So often we’re faced with situations that are anything BUT logical. They certainly don’t make sense.

How do we respond then?

If I’m being perfectly honest, my first impulse has often been to panic. To dive into full-blown human worry mode and overthink every angle until I’m mentally exhausted. This method also never gets me anywhere…

Thankfully, it’s in those places that we can lean on God. At the end of our resources, His stores of abundance are only beginning.

Let go? Release the problem? Completely relax my worrying even when the problem is clearly not figured out yet?! You mean I’m supposed to trust God to solve it… without my help?

YES!!!

Because God is not a logical Being.

His Power is displayed most extravagantly when His plans defy all logic. God is not bound to performing within what seems sensible to human reasoning.

That’s why He chose to create such intricate relationships within nature.

That is why He decided to create each of us in His own image.

When we sinned, logically, God should have condemned us all and started over. What did He owe us? Nothing.

But God chose to punish Himself for our sin, and let us be pardoned.

He came in the lowliest way – born in flesh to a poor virgin girl in a stable. No majestic arrival or grand welcome. It didn’t make sense that He was really the Promised One – yet Messiah is exactly Who had come.

Then He died, and those who believed Him to be their Deliverer all but gave up on that hope. Human logic wouldn’t expect Him to come back to life – but that’s exactly what happened. Against all logic.

The events of the Salvation plan – from the manger to the cross, and finally the victorious resurrection – were the greatest miracles of all time! Yet the plot of the entire story goes completely against all reasoning. It is completely illogical – to us.

So you’ve been seeking God’s will and trying to live it out… then life gets complicated, nothing makes sense, and you see no logical way forward? Breathe deep. Smile. And get ready for something great. Because it’s outside of our resources that God writes His best stories for us. Good and Perfect.

Dear soul… let go and Trust Him. That is the only choice which always makes Good, Perfect, Logical Sense.

The whiteness swirled around my car, leaving the edges of the road undefined in a blurry mess of snowdrifts.

Tires fought to find traction on the slippery surface as my little car struggled through the deep, heavy snow.

I don’t mind winter driving. But when visibility and the roads are bad, then I’m no longer enjoying it. This November snowstorm was the worst I can remember ever driving in.

I somehow made it home, praying earnestly for God’s protection and guidance the whole way. And the next morning… what a beautiful scene.

The drab, brown earth was hidden. The mud was covered by a new layer of white snow.

The trees, which after being stripped of their autumnal glory had been left tired and bare, were transformed into majestic beauty.

Everything ugly had disappeared.

All that I saw in its place was breathtaking.

New.

Perfectly beautiful…

A result of the storm.

“Just trust me as I show you, one step at a time.”

14 little heads nodded in understanding as their worried expressions relaxed.

The confusing lines they were drawing on their papers, according to their instructions, would become foxes eventually. Their teacher had said so.

Instead of returning to my cluttered desk with the usual relief that comes after everybody is back on track, I paused. What did I just say?

***

We were having an ordinary art class, if ordinary is an appropriate adjective to describe my grade 4 art classes. Don’t assume orderly or bland, though the connotation may imply that. Ordinary as in, the usual, which consists of a mob of waving hands, cries of “How do I do this?!” “I need help!” and the dreaded, much quieter, “oops… I think I messed it up…”

Today, our project was a step-by-step fox drawing. I looked at the sample, glanced over the steps, and concluded it would be a simple assignment which my students could manage fairly independently. (Big mistake, right there – never assume anything will be easy. Prepare to assist with each step of every assignment, then anything they do independently is worthy of celebration.)

After showing the class the sample picture so they would know what they’re making, I placed it out of view so they wouldn’t try to go ahead of my directions and get off track. Instead, I would draw each step along with them on the chalkboard. We got started, and I quickly discovered that measurements to the quarter inch are difficult. So I began the process of checking each child’s paper with my ruler, after every step, to ensure that their drawings were accurately to scale.

As I added lines to my large, chalkboard version, I soon saw the fox taking shape. The class didn’t, however, and began asking to have the finished picture stuck to the board. “I don’t see a fox in this. Are you sure it’s going to become a fox? How can it? It looks like a mess!”

I replied in a calm voice, hoping they would understand:

“Class, if I would allow you to see the finished picture, you wouldn’t get to see it take shape, and it would appear complicated. Then you might panic wondering how you’re going to get from here to there! Your pictures will get there – one line at a time. But I don’t want you to stress about everything that has to happen in between, so instead of showing you the finished picture, I’m asking you to focus on me. Trust me as I show you one step at a time.”

They smiled, satisfied, and continued their art. I moved toward the stacks of work waiting on my desk… and stopped in my tracks.

“What did I just say?” I replayed my words and was shocked as I absorbed the meaning of what I had just spoken.

I had put zero thought into that speech. I just opened my mouth and started talking in answer to the question I had gotten. Was that me, grade 4 teacher, casually calming down some confused children in an art class?

“Or was that God, teaching me something profound about life?”

“If I would allow you to see the finished picture, you wouldn’t get to see it take shape…

You’d panic, wondering how you’re going to get from here to there.

I don’t want you to stress about everything in between…

I’m asking you to focus on me… as I show you, one step at a time.”

Who just said what?

Fragmented pieces of life are swirling in my mind, creating a kaleidoscope effect when I step back and view them through the lens of faith.

The beauty of living freely. Being myself. Letting down my guard.

Laughing with unfettered joy.

Trusting.

Embracing my calling.

Finding passion and purpose in my today.

Then there are the darker pieces, adding a bittersweet effect to the mix…

Doubt. Where am I really meant to be, God? What is my special place?

Tears. The good, healing kind, which come from an unwavering belief that God is still good, even when everything else feels shaken.

The question, “Why?” And all of the emotions that come with it…

Sorrow, confusion, frustration… and finally, brokenness.

The step most crucial toward finding the beauty in it all.

Because until I’m broken, God can’t re-fashion me into the lady He wants me to become.

When life is a confusing swirl of fragmented, jagged-edged moments, doubt sees the tangled mess.

The decision to hold on to faith allows us to step back and see God’s love shining through.

And through that lens, I choose to view my life.

Through eyes of faith, I see Love shining through each piece.

Love that transforms confusion into a breathtaking kaleidoscope of light and dark, sorrow and joy… a beauty only made possible when the canvas belongs to the best Artist of all time.

Creator.

All-Knowing God.

The One Who I call Father.