Slowly, over the last month in particular, I have begun to see that I am romanced with the idea of being part of a great adventure, but reluctant to actually put my boots, so to speak, on the path. Like Ananias and Sapphira, I desperately want to be part of the next move of God, but I don’t want to pay the full price. How about you?
If you’re anything like me, you like the idea of hiding in a wardrobe and ending up at a lamppost with snow crunching under your feet, having no idea how you got there. When the White Witch shows up in her snowmobile, however, the story takes a twist that isn’t so much fun anymore. All of a sudden there’s a demand for wisdom, discernment and strategy. Adventures require great commitment and endurance and that’s where most of us head back to the familiar side of the wardrobe. I forget to “imitate those who through faith and patience inherit the promises.” I always seem to come up short on the patience end of the deal.
Songlines to Live By
When it first came out, Bob and I went to see the epic movie Australia. We’ve seen it now a second time. I can’t remember when I’ve loved a movie as much. While the drama is captivating and Nicole Kidman and Hugh Jackman are outstanding in their roles, it is Nullah who captured my very heart.
The mixed-genre movie seems to have something for everyone – comedy, a good western, a romance and a WWII drama. But it is the spiritual implications that brought me to full attention. Earlier this year I learned something about Aborigines, the indigenous peoples of Australia, and their practice of making songlines. By use of these intricate series of song cycles the natives were able to tell their stories and traverse the vast wilderness of their land. Songlines were a form of navigation through which the Aboringines believed they were “singing up the country of their life.”
I learned all this from a book that I used in my personal devotions last year titled The Song of the Seed by Macrina Weiderkehr. In her wonderful book she explains that if we’ll take a phrase from our reading of God’s word and use it as our “songline” for the day, we also can sing up the country of our life. I liked that!
Let me give you an example. Let’s say you are reading Ephesians, Chapter 2 today. In your reading you come across the phrase “He is our peace…” in verse 14 and it resonates with you. You choose that for your songline today and throughout the hours, as you face different challenges, you remember “He is our peace” and you allow that truth to soak into your being, to calm your anxieties. By so doing, you are singing up the country of your life.
In the movie, Nullah is separated from his boss-lady, played by Nicole Kidman, and as the ship leaves the dock, both of them in tears, he cries out across the waters, “Don’t worry, Mrs. Boss. I will sing you to me.”
Did You Know Jesus Sings Over You?
Has it ever occurred to you that God sings over your life, that He is singing you to Himself? Read Zephaniah 3:17. “The Lord your God in your midst, The Mighty One, will save; He will rejoice over you with gladness, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing." NKJV.
Singer/songwriter, Dennis Jernigan, did a re-write of this verse some years ago. I was unable to dig it up for this publication, but if I find it, I’ll send it on later. While I’d read the verse before in other translations, his re-write revealed a new truth to me. I took the time to look up each of the Hebrew words in the verse and discovered his paraphrase, or transliteration, is absolutely true to the Scriptures. For the first time, I saw how Jesus rejoices over us in such gladness it bubbles forth as a song. It seems He too is singing up the country of our lives. Since that is so, can there be any doubt at all our lives will end up to be great adventures?
In the dead heat of this tropical summer, I quiet myself by the lake and tune my ears to see if I can hear the notes. The melody of a God-breathed song, singing me along my journey, buffering the hard places with His gentle love, and beckoning me to look beyond the circumstances. Who knows what adventure I’ll fall into next?
While it is true I am a chicken when it comes to demands for endurance, I also have asked God to change my false idea of adventure to something more akin to His heart – someone who wants to be part of the move of God and is willing to pay the full price. “Make me that kind of girl, Lord!”
I don’t want to settle for less than His highest call. Besides, ending up like Ananias and Sapphira lacks the glorious
end I expect in a really great story.
Enjoy this Spirit Lifter
posted May 12, 2009
A Mosaic of Little Things – everyday graces and
simple pleasures
posted May 12, 2009
Oh, how we need to notice hidden beauty in the ordinariness of our days. Especially in these times. Many of us are experiencing jagged edges and jangling moments on a daily basis, but we get to choose how we respond.
How many times lately have you thought, “Where is the life I am used to?”
Either we’ve watched the evening news too much in one week and have a vague sense of emptiness, a backwash of quiet depression that steals our joy. or…we have misplaced the continuity of our lives because we’ve moved, lost a job, may lose our home, and don’t know how to fix this mess.
“How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?”
Psalms 13:1 NIV
I spoke with a friend yesterday who was struggling with the news that the house she and her husband planned to move to has just been sold because of a clause that allows the builder to call for the payment. They have two days to come up with the purchase plan. Their home in Naples hasn’t sold, so they have to let this house of their dreams go. They feel confused. It seemed like God gave such clear confirmation that they were to move. Other friends have had news of colon cancer, or chest pains, or emergency visits to the hospital.
But then there are those of you who give me great hope. You are somehow able to laugh in the face of loss, make a killer lemonade out of the bag of lemons you were handed, and live as “permanent strangers” in this land to which we’ve all been exiled. (See 1 Peter 1:17). After all, “we are strangers and nomads on earth” (Hebrews 11:13), so why are we surprised when our tent moves? Some of you have been reduced to a few storage boxes and a car. And you’re happy!
Me? I’m trying hard to make a habit of paying attention to the little things that grace my day. For instance, I’ve been watching for days now, sneaking out the kitchen door early each morning to stare at the fat buds tightly wrapped in brown and green layers, the white peeking out at the top. This morning, she unfolded and beamed at me in the morning sunlight, her face layered in creamy white velvet, saying, “Here I am, at last!” The first gardenia.
May is my birth month and also the month Florida gardenias start to bloom. I love May! Wisps of memories drift back, of the May morning in Sixth Grade that something urged me to the back yard before I left for school. It was late in the month and I was about to graduate to junior high. The gardenia bush was lush with blooms and I confidently chose a full-faced beauty, took it in the house and pinned it to my freshly-ironed white blouse. What possessed me? Was I coming of age, responding for the first time to that sweet ache inside, or just enchanted with the fragrance of life? To this day – 54 years later – a thrill skips across my heart when I see the first gardenia. I take time to relish this moment.
Everything is swirling around us – swine flu, upheaval in the financial systems and threatening nations who don’t like us. Our bank accounts have dwindled, plans made years previously about how we’d spend our last days thrown to the dogs, all of us questioning what this means for our future. And yet, in the face of all that, the gardenias still bloom in May.
An everyday grace. A simple pleasure. A reminder that the days will keep unfolding and some things will remain as they always have. The rest we leave to God. Is He here? Does He care? Did He notice?
Well, of course! The bush is full, isn’t it?
Live simply.
Love generously,
Care deeply.
Speak kindly.
Leave the rest to GOD.
My Heart Will Choose to Say
posted April 7, 2009
"Time To Say Goodbye" Andrea Bocelli and Sarah Brightman
I awake before dawn and can't sleep. My head is swimming with to-do lists – take this, leave that, get rid of the other. I lay in the darkness and realize this is to be my last full day at 5601 Green Boulevard. I remember my first night in this room, how I lay awake, just like this, feeling like a princess in her castle and too excited to sleep.
How do I walk away tomorrow without a cloud of sadness surrounding me? How do I say "It doesn’t matter – it's just a house"? It was my dream to live in a house like this, to engage in endless conversations with friends around a candlelit table, to talk about life and purpose and Jesus. And oh how often that dream came true! For over six years we've gathered on the porches, around tables, or on couches while we laughed and talked and ate. God's presence has hovered near and He has made His face to shine upon us.
Where do I find the strength to press on, to leave this and move to Simplicity Cottage?
His grace comes as quietly and surely as the dawn outside the French doors. Light shoos away darkness and the brightness of a new day rises in my life. I remember that it's almost Easter. He reminds me of two ways to move through this miasma:
1) I fix my eyes on the prize – I'm looking at You, Jesus. "Look forward, Cathee, not backward, at what was. See Me in today and what IS!"
2) He gives and takes away, my heart will choose to say "Blessed be Your name."
I wrote all of that the morning of April 2 and now today, this morning, as I opened my Bible to read the daily readings for Holy Week, these were two of the verses in the selection:
Philippians 3:13-14 NKJV
...one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind and reaching forward to those things which are ahead, I press toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.
John 12:26 NKJV
If anyone serves Me, let him follow Me; and where I am, there My servant will be also. If anyone serves Me, him My Father will honor.
I smile to myself as I realize the kindness of God and the knowledge that He is at my right hand and I shall not be shaken.
In Jesus' name we press on,
Cathee
Simplicity Cottage
133 Alderman Drive
Lake Placid, FL 33852
Keeping Christmas
Posted December 2, 2008
The day after Thanksgiving, for many of us, is the day we start hauling out the stuff and “getting the Christmas decorations up.” It seems to be more of a chore than a joy. Because I’m usually in a hurry to get the job completed I end up doing it by myself.
As Bob and I have passed the mid-sixty point, we’ve come to depend on our sons to help disgorge all the boxes from the huge platform shelf suspended from the garage ceiling where they are stashed all year. Especially the pre-lit 12’ tree – which is too heavy for one person to negotiate on a ladder.
From the moment I opened my eyes last Friday that was my goal for the day. I suggested it to my youngest son, Jed, who was staying with us over the holiday. He said he’d do it at 5 PM. I could have it all decorated by 5 if you did it now, I thought, but let it go.
I took a nap that afternoon when the house got quiet and when I got up Bob met me in the hall and said, “Why don’t we go down to the beach and take a walk?” I frowned a little and said, “But I thought we were going to get the tree up.” He shrugged and walked away.
Moments later we went out to the garage to find all the boxes down, waiting to be dispensed into their various places in the house. Bob reluctantly opened the box with the tree and began carrying the sections around to the front door. I glanced up to see one last box – the one which holds all the fall decorations – still on the platform. I’ll get it down because I have to put all that away before I can decorate for Christmas.
I’m normally cautious about climbing on ladders and have a particular ladder that I feel quite safe on. However, my tall sons had put up the 6 ft. step ladder so I decided to just use it. I climbed up and reached over for the box and the next thing I remember was the ladder was gone beneath me and I was frantically attempting to hold myself up by grasping the chain that suspends the shelf. I always hold it for balance, but there was no way I had the strength to hold myself suspended with no ladder. And so I crashed to the garage floor, hitting a silver punchbowl I had polished to mail to my daughter in California for Christmas.
The result was that I almost lost the end of my pinkie finger on my right hand. I think the punch bowl kept me from breaking my wrist and who knows what else – a hip, my back, a head injury? Although I was in severe pain, I was instantly thankful that I could get up and walk to the steps and sit down.
After a trip to the ER and eight stitches to put my finger back together, I began to reflect on the whole event. “Oh how I wish we were walking on the beach,” I said to Bob later. “We could have had a nice dinner for $75,” he replied as he added up the co-pay expenses for medical treatment.
But it’s been the idea of “keeping Christmas” that has lingered in my heart over the days following my accident. I want to burn a new path from this point forward and forevermore. Traditionally, Advent is a season of inward reflection that parallels Mary’s final weeks of pregnancy. I want to take care to nurture that lovely expectancy of something new – an empty space fastened to hope that’s waiting to be filled.
As I place each garland and decoration this year I will remember it has nothing at all to do with “getting the decorations up.” When I hang the long metal spike, given to me years ago by a dear friend, I will remember that the cross is the center of Christmas. He, Jesus, is my center. Staying aware of His presence in every act of celebrating His birth is a joyful and beautiful practice.
I purpose this year, as I prepare my house for His arrival symbolically on Christmas Eve, to focus on the beauty of so many moments given to me as a gift – the delight in my granddaughter’s eyes as the Christmas tree is lit, the meal shared with friends, the walk on the beach with Bob. Jesus made relationships possible and they are rare gifts meant to be unwrapped with wonder.
It is still true that “the hopes and fears of all the years” are met in the One whose birth we await.
Cathee
Please take a few minutes to watch this video that will remind you of what’s really important in this world – not only at Christmastime, but all the time.
and if you want to really join in the fun of giving, go to this website and follow the directions. The Gift Revolution
Releasing Ourselves from the Safety of What We Know
Posted November 19, 2008
I was thinking today about how predictable my life has been over the last few years. Years of plenty, seasons of superabundance. More so than at any other time in my life. I also realize how much I say I dislike boring predictability!
That’s all changed rather drastically for most of us over the past three months, hasn’t it? And while I’ve complained at times that life is too status quo, I am now facing the truth that I’ve been quite comfortable dwelling in the safety of what I know. How about you?
When the entire world seems to unravel before us, predictable doesn’t look like such a bad place to live. At least that’s my initial emotional response. Like you, I’m reconsidering many things—letting go of stuff, shifting my priorities, facing the reality of the way things are.
The other morning as I journaled, this is what came out of my pen:
I am taking you through the eye of the needle. As you already know, this gate is narrow. It’s greatly compressed. You cannot pass through it with all the stuff you have been carrying. I’m going to teach you how to let go; how to release what is unnecessary.
You have longed for a simpler life. Now is the time for Me to teach you how to attain it. You must keep your focus on Me and the way I am leading you—everything else is a distraction.
Learn to travel light. Learn to live unsettled. Be thankful for all you have enjoyed, but keep your joy in Me. Learn to enjoy Me with less. I am more.
You are in for some surprises as you see how little you can have and still be joyful.
So here we all are, standing before the Eye of the Needle Gate. It’s skinny, almost impossible to pass through. At least with what I’ve got in my hands. When Jesus spoke to the rich young ruler, who asked how he could have real life, He told the man to let go of everything he was clinging to. Jesus was preaching a message about the kingdom, the here and now kingdom that’s made available while we’re still on earth. He wasn’t telling the man how to be sure he was going to heaven when he died; He was telling Him how to be a disciple – a follower of Christ.
Entering into the real life of following Christ means He will ask me to give up the safety of what I know. I think of the column Oprah writes on the back page of every issue of her magazine. It’s called “What I Know for Sure.” I always enjoy reading what she’s learned about life, but, truth be told, I realize more with each passing day, there really isn’t much I know for sure. There’s very little safety in what I know.
There is, however, tremendous safety in what God knows – and He knows everything. He tells me to “Be still and know that I AM God.” Now that’s something you can take to the bank –if there’s a solvent one left, that is.
In the end, all that’s required is that we obey Him out of love and do the next thing He tells us. I will never be “safe” from financial ruin, disasters – personal or national, health issues, or any of a hundred other woes in this earth. But I am safe in the shelter of His wings and nothing else really matters.
Those Beautiful Legs
The memory of shaving my legs for the first time is deeply embedded in my memory of "most happiest events." It seemed obvious, by the time I was in third grade, that I had unfortunately inherited my father's hairiness. My long legs and arms were covered with a plethora of dark brown hair - much to my horror. By the time I was in fifth grade I had begun to regularly beg Mother to let me shave. It became all the worse when boys began to call me "Spider Legs." Oh, how dreadful. Why me? I hated my hairy legs.
One evening when I was bathing, I decided it would be better to ask forgiveness than to ask permission as I carefully retrieved my father's razor from the medicine cabinet. Too scared to shave my whole leg, I chose to just shave about a one inch border just above my ankle. (What can I say? Fifth graders are sometimes not as smart as they appear on the TV show).
I didn't know it at the time, of course (I wasn't that smart!), but it was the perfect way to go about it. I dressed and appeared at dinner with a nice clean anklet of smooth white skin. Within minutes, my attentive mother cried out, "What have you done to your legs?!?" Then after a moment's quiet, she said, "Get in there and shave the rest of your leg. That looks horrible!"
I danced my way back to the tub, sat on it's edge with my leg propped up on the tile wall, and shaved away. My heart was soaring, my spirits elated. I couldn't take my eyes off my legs the rest of the night. Never was there such a gorgeous pair of gams. I'm still smiling today.
What is one of your happiest moments? Maybe it was as silly as this one. Maybe not. Possibly, your happiest memory is about a moment that was life-transforming. Write me about it. It would do you good to write it down and offer it to God as a thanksgiving, and I would absolutely be delighted to read it. Send it to Cathee@SacredThirst.com.
The mixed-genre movie seems to have something for everyone – comedy, a good western, a romance and a WWII drama. But it is the spiritual implications that brought me to full attention. Earlier this year I learned something about Aborigines, the indigenous peoples of Australia, and their practice of making songlines. By use of these intricate series of song cycles the natives were able to tell their stories and traverse the vast wilderness of their land. Songlines were a form of navigation through which the Aboringines believed they were “singing up the country of their life.”
Let me give you an example. Let’s say you are reading Ephesians, Chapter 2 today. In your reading you come across the phrase “He is our peace…” in verse 14 and it resonates with you. You choose that for your songline today and throughout the hours, as you face different challenges, you remember “He is our peace” and you allow that truth to soak into your being, to calm your anxieties. By so doing, you are singing up the country of your life.
month and I was about to graduate to junior high. The gardenia bush was lush with blooms and I confidently chose a full-faced beauty, took it in the house and pinned it to my freshly-ironed white blouse. What possessed me? Was I coming of age, responding for the first time to that sweet ache inside, or just enchanted with the fragrance of life? To this day – 54 years later – a thrill skips across my heart when I see the first gardenia. I take time to relish this moment.
I’m normally cautious about climbing on ladders and have a particular ladder that I feel quite safe on. However, my tall sons had put up the 6 ft. step ladder so I decided to just use it. I climbed up and reached over for the box and the next thing I remember was the ladder was gone beneath me and I was frantically attempting to hold myself up by grasping the chain that suspends the shelf. I always hold it for balance, but there was no way I had the strength to hold myself suspended with no ladder. And so I crashed to the garage floor, hitting a silver punchbowl I had polished to mail to my daughter in California for Christmas. 
I began to reflect on the whole event. “Oh how I wish we were walking on the beach,” I said to Bob later. “We could have had a nice dinner for $75,” he replied as he added up the co-pay expenses for medical treatment.
As I place each garland and decoration this year I will remember it has nothing at all to do with “getting the decorations up.” When I hang the long metal spike, given to me years ago by a dear friend, I will remember that the cross is the center of Christmas. He, Jesus, is my center. Staying aware of His presence in every act of celebrating His birth is a joyful and beautiful practice. 
I was thinking today about how predictable my life has been over the last few years. Years of plenty, seasons of superabundance. More so than at any other time in my life. I also realize how much I say I dislike boring predictability!