A Tapestry of Grace ~ Wait For You {Part 1}

I wait for the Lord, my soul waits,
and in his word I hope;
my soul waits for the Lord
more than watchmen for the morning,
more than watchmen for the morning.
Psalm 130:5-6

There is an abundance of spiritual treasures found in waiting on God. It is like a garden that Jesus walks into and plants dreams, hopes, and desires. Sometimes the waiting is short, sometimes the waiting takes years, and sometimes the waiting takes a lifetime. And in the joy, silence, struggle, and anticipation, we find that our souls are only waiting for One. He is Jesus.

Our stories are like a tapestry of woven threads of different colors and textures. From the back of this woven image, we cannot see how all of these intersecting threads could put together a portrait of discernible beauty. Yet the Weaver, the One who is writing our stories, sees and knows what He is creating. When revealed, we are able to see the transformation He has created.

“He has made everything beautiful in its time.” Ecclesiastes 3:11a

One of the blessings of growing older is being able to see seasons in your life that reach from the far distant past to now. Nearly 40 years old, I have the ability to see the stretch of years behind me and the transformation that took place in my soul over decades. My life is now not just divided into childhood, youth, and the early stages of adulthood in my twenties. It now spans different seasons in adulthood. It is divided into distinct chapters and periods of growth, change, and maturity.

One of the themes of life at seminary is “telling your story”. This theme comes out in many classes that my husband is taking and in the general life of building community here. Your story is of immense value! It is beneficial as a Christian to understand one’s own story, come to terms with parts of your story that are perhaps painful or difficult, celebrate the mighty things God has done in your life and the great blessings He has given, and to see how your story as a child of God fits into God’s eternal story.

I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. Galatians 2:20

As a writer and as a Christian, I have enjoyed writing out my story many times and sharing it whenever the Lord has given me opportunity. One of the reasons I want to continue to share my story is because I have come to see seasons of joy and seasons of suffering as gifts from the hand of God. My journey includes difficult seasons battling anxiety, perhaps due to having a near fatal bout of pertussis as an infant. After years of a beautiful childhood and teenage years, came a sudden onset of extreme anxiety at the age of sixteen. A chemical imbalance sent me into a tailspin of depression and anxiety requiring several years of doctor’s care, medication, therapy, and resulting in a passionate pursuit of God!

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;
his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
Lamentations 3:22-23

Years ago, as a single woman, I recorded an album of original songs I had written over the span of 10 years called Wait For You. Little did I know that God was orchestrating a collection of songs that would be my testimony up until that point in my life. As I laid out the order of the songs for the album, I saw a journey forming, a tapestry of grace and redemption that could only be orchestrated by Jesus, my Good Shepherd.

Over several essays, I will be sharing snapshots of my story and songs, posting them intermittently over the next few months. I write and share this because when I first started to suffer from anxiety symptoms, I asked God to use this struggle all for His glory. My Savior and Lord had sovereignly put this trial into the story of my life, and though it was the dark night of my soul, I chose to submit myself to my Redeemer and trust Him, which was in itself a gift of grace.

And I say, “Oh, that I had wings like a dove!
I would fly away and be at rest;
yes, I would wander far away;
I would lodge in the wilderness; Selah
I would hurry to find a shelter
from the raging wind and tempest.”
Psalm 55:6-8

As I’ve shared my story, a drop in the bucket of the millions of stories of God working in the lives of His people, I have been able to have the blessing and privilege of hearing many others’ stories. God is the author of our stories and they are being grafted into His. Through His grace in our lives, and the work of the Holy Spirit, He shines brightly through these earthly jars of clay to those around us. May our earthly stories be like a compass pointing others to Christ and His Word that they, too, may be transformed by the Holy Spirit and the Word of God.

And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose. Romans 8:28

Christ Be With Me ~ A Morning Prayer

Christ be with me, Christ within me,
Christ behind me, Christ before me,
Christ beside me, Christ to win me,
Christ to comfort and restore me.
Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ in quiet, Christ in danger,
Christ in hearts of all that love me,
Christ in mouth of friend and stranger.

~ St Patrick’s Breastplate
(translation of a Gaelic poem by Cecil F. Alexander)

The sun rises slowly over the hill behind our home. Its an early morning before church. The mist rises steadily from the ground in the darkness pierced with the dawning of the morning. Such a quiet calm morning compared with the tempest of storm, wind, and downpour of hailstones the night before. The beauty after the chaos. The calm after the tempest. The rainbows in the evening, and the dawning of a new day. There are promises all around us.

I’m reminded of a poem, a prayer really. A prayer that was given, many years ago, many miles away in a far off village on the Ayrshire Coast of Scotland by an old friend and missionary. She gave this poem to me and it was exactly the words my heart needed to meditate on day and night. In these words, my heart was focused not on the things of earth, but on the One who had come. My heart was turned to the reality of the Living One, the Light of the World, the Messiah, Rescuer, the Lamb of God who is truly there. When I remember that I can be totally present with Him throughout every moment of my day, my struggles turn into rest, my fears are washed away in waves upon waves of grace. My anchor is Christ and in the perceiving of truth that Christ is everything to me, indeed He is eternal life, He gives an inexpressible joy. When my mind is overwhelmed, I only need One. Christ is my stability. Christ is my security. Christ is my rock I stand upon.

Hear my cry, O God,
listen to my prayer;
from the end of the earth I call to you
when my heart is faint.
Lead me to the rock
that is higher than I,
for you have been my refuge,
a strong tower against the enemy.
Let me dwell in your tent forever!
Let me take refuge under the shelter of your wings! Selah
For you, O God, have heard my vows;
you have given me the heritage of those who fear your name.
Psalm 61:1-5

May this meditation bring truth and peace to your soul today and may the reality of His presence in your life anchor you… in Christ.

Let me hear in the morning of your steadfast love,
for in you I trust.
Make me know the way I should go,
for to you I lift up my soul.
Psalm 143:8

Charlotte's Web ~ A Passage to Reading

Every journey has a beginning. Sometimes you can begin a journey without even knowing something very special is about to start. That’s how it was when I discovered the joy of reading chapter books as a child.

When I was young, we had a two level bookshelf that my dad built with a pull out drawer underneath. It was coated with a deep mahogany wood stain. We kept all our kids books on that shelf for years. Little Golden books like The Little Tugboat, The Little Red Hen, The Three Little Pigs, The Poky Little Puppy or Eloise Wilkin stories. These delighted me as a child and I enjoyed the sweet illustrations. I’m sure we read lots of stories in the early grades at school, but most of the time I was more interested in drawing and coloring, catching hundreds of tadpoles during recess at school, playing with dolls and toy animals, riding my bike, playing Barbies, collecting special rocks in milk cartons (because every rock I found was special), perfecting my acrobatic flip on the playground bars and joining my friends in creating our very own imaginary Charlie’s Chocolate Factory in the creek behind our school. I still remember the broken tree branches that served as a trampoline and I’m amazed those branches never broke. I loved books as a young child and there were ones I treasured and now read to my little ones. But there came a day in my childhood, when I found a passageway into reading and imagination that went so much deeper and took on a whole new world of imagination. That passageway came in the form of a beloved story, Charlotte’s Web.

It was library day at my elementary school. I remember going to the older kids’ section of the library, pulling out chapter books one by one to look at the title and cover. At the time, I wasn’t interested in science fiction or fantasy. I didn’t even know what those words really meant and the cover illustrations kind of freaked me out. I just knew it was out of my comfort zone.

As I passed by book after book, I finally pulled out a hardcover book with the title, Charlotte’s Web. I paused and took a look. The name, Charlotte, was endearing and pleasant. I loved animals and farm life. Perhaps this was a book I would enjoy. I brought it to the librarian who, in those days, pulled out the little library card in the front pocket – oh I just loved this part – and she, an elderly woman who wore bifocals on the tip of her nose, looked down at me through her glasses with that same stern, curious expression. Taking her date stamp, she pressed it into the black ink and stamped the card with the date that I was to return the book. I always said thank you, smiled and carried my book back to my classroom. I didn’t realize, but this was the beginning of my chapter book journey.

I was enthralled with this story about a little girl named Fern and her pet pig Wilbur, and of course, I then wanted to move to a farm and have a pet pig of my own to raise. I can’t remember all the ways the story intrigued me or moved me, but I remember reading voraciously with an excitement that surprised me and settled deep in my heart.

When I finished the book, I experienced a sense of satisfaction that I had not had before in reading. This story had somehow changed me. I also knew that I had accomplished something great. And in truth, I had! Reading a chapter book that makes you want to read more chapter books is a monumental step in reading. And if its a good book, a living book, it can be formative. For me, it was. I returned the book, knowing that I had met a sort of “old friend” in this story and that it would be one I would read again.

A few years ago, I began reading chapter books to my children, and what was the first one? Charlotte’s Web. As my third baby rested at naptime, I would read to my older two and we would dive into the world of the Arables and the barnyard at Zuckerman Farm together. It was a joy to share this story with my little ones. We have a tradition of reading a book first and then watching the movie. We have done this with several books already and are currently working on more! The kids love knowing that they will then see the story they have imagined in their own minds brought to life in film.

As my daughter now enters the world of reading chapter books on her own, I am remembering all the ones that formed me as a young girl and shaped the way I view life, family, heritage, God, and my purpose in life. I already see the ways the books we have read together have formed the imaginations of my children with the obvious example that the woods behind our home have been affectionately named Narnia! One day, they will be choosing their own chapter books to read. For now, I plant seeds of living books and story-formed imagination that will hopefully, one day, be stepping stones for their own journey of enjoyment in reading.

Elliot and Two Green Onions

Elliot lived in an apartment building 3 stories tall. He was 3 years old. He also had 3 siblings. His two older siblings were allowed to wander the neighborhood all by themselves, even into the woods, but not Elliot.

“Mama, can I go down the street with the others?” He said as he watched his sister and brother put on their shoes.”

“One day you can, sweet Elliot,” Mama would say. “Right now you are not old enough to go out on your own, but one day! Come along, I’ll take you to the playground.”

Off he would run to the playground, with Mama not far behind. And so it went whether to the park, the hill, the woods, or across the street. Mama was not too far behind.

One day, while his siblings were at school, Mama was making a meal for a family who just welcomed a new baby girl to their family. She was making tacos, but she didn’t have any green onions. When Mama asked Elliot to find her two green onions, he jumped to his feet.

“I need to you to knock on Mrs Edmund’s door and ask for two green onions. Can you do that?”

Elliot puffed up his chest with pride. Mama was sending him out on an errand, all by himself. He knew he could do it, he thought as Mama handed him a note that said “two green onions?” to help him remember. He opened the door and climbed the stairs to the neighbor’s apartment. As he went, he repeated to himself, “Two green onions. Two green onions,” over and over until he reached the door. With each knock, he repeated, “Two green onions”. The door opened and he said, “Do you have two green onions?” and handed Mrs Edmund the note.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t have any green onions, Elliot,” Mrs Edmund said.

Elliot climbed back downstairs to tell Mama the news.

“Go knock on Mrs Lewis’s door,” Mama said while stirring the meat cooking on the stove top.

Elliot wandered around the corner to Mrs Lewis’s door.

“Do you have two green onions?”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t have any green onions, Elliot,” Mrs Lewis said.

Elliot came back home with the news.

“Go knock on Mrs Corin’s door,” Mama encouraged.

Elliot climbed to the third story of the building.

“I’m sorry. I have white onions, but no green onions, Elliot,” Mrs Corin offered.
Elliot climbed slowly back down the stairs.
“She doesn’t have green onions either,” he sighed.

“Go knock on Mrs Aravis’s door,” Mama said.

So, Elliot tried one more time, climbed to the third story and knocked on Mrs Aravis’s door.

“Two green onions, two green onions.” The door opened.

“Hi. Do you have two green onions?” Elliot asked with hope.

“Why yes!” exclaimed Mrs Aravis, “Let me take a look in the fridge.” Elliot squeezed his eyes shut and hoped that his mission could be accomplished.

“Here you are! I have plenty. You just take all of them.”

Elliot’s eyes grew wide, “Thank you!” he said as he took them in his hands.

Elliot ran down the stairs as fast as his little legs could carry him and flung open the front door.

“She had green onions!” he shouted waving them in the air. Mama’s eyes grew wide. “So many onions! This is wonderful!”

Mama finished preparing the meal, packed it all up and brought it over to the family with the new baby.

Elliot jumped around the apartment. He accomplished his mission. He had found two green onions. And he did it… all by himself… with Mama not too far behind.

The End.

A Bedtime Story

This is dedicated to Thea, Cheryl, Holly, Katie, Christine, Tara, Kristen, and Danae… and the eight precious newborns born this past month.

The whole earth is filled with awe at your wonders;
where morning dawns, where evening fades,
you call forth songs of joy.
Psalm 65:8

With her baby blanket wrapped lovingly around her shoulders, I held her, my beloved daughter as I sang her to sleep. Songs of worship, praise to our God, lulled her to sleep each night. Old choruses from church, hymns, Christmas songs. These were the songs that I serenaded her with in that sacred half hour that marked the divide between day and night. I cherished those moments while holding the gift and praising the Giver.

Shortly after, a blessed son was given and added to the jubilant chorus of worshiping God through whispered songs and peaceful melodies at the close of the day. Songs filled our days and even our nights. By now, my daughter was one of the ones singing my son to sleep with the hymns and songs that we sang with her. I remember one night, her three year old voice echoing from the upstairs room singing “At the cross, at the cross, where I first saw the light…” and “Grace, grace, God’s grace. Grace that will pardon and cleanse within…”. When we added a third little choir member and then a fourth to the Harris home, we began playing a lullaby scripture album and as the words would carry them off to dreamland, it brought me into the presence of God in worship and rest.

Several months ago, with our fourth then almost two years old, we added a new bedtime song. I didn’t mean for it to necessarily become the new song, I just kept pressing play on this selection every nap time and soon, it became the bedtime song.

The other night, my 3 year old asked, “Can you play the song that says holy, holy?” Ah… yes, the bedtime song. Based off of Mary’s magnificat in Luke 1:46-55, it is a song of praise to God for remembering his mercy to His people and for choosing Mary to become the mother of the Son of God. She rejoices in God, her Savior, with a song of worship for the mighty things He has done. And in between these words of praise, my little ones fall asleep for the night.

“Magnificat”, Rain for Roots, Album: Waiting Songs

My soul magnifies the Lord
My spirit rejoices in God
My soul magnifies the Lord
My spirit rejoices in God

For He who is mighty
Has done great things for me
Holy holy
Holy holy
Holy holy
Is His name

[Read]
His mercy flows in wave after wave
On those who are in awe before Him
He embraced his chosen child, Israel
He remembered and piled on the mercies, He piled them high!
It’s exactly what He promised
Beginning with Abraham and right up to now. (Luke 1:50, 54-55 from The Message)

My soul magnifies the Lord
My spirit rejoices in God
My soul magnifies the Lord
My spirit rejoices in God

For He who is mighty
Has done great things for me
Holy holy
Holy holy
Holy holy
Is His name

Words by Mary, mother of Jesus
Music by Flo Paris Oakes (©1999 Flo Paris Music)

Scripture quotation from THE MESSAGE. Copyright © by Eugene H. Peterson 1993, 1994, 1995, 1996, 2000, 2001, 2002. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.

Photo by Melody Davis

The Hiding Place ~ A Book Reflection

This past fall, a friend asked if I had a certain book that she could borrow. I rummaged through our shelves and found The Hiding Place, worn and yellowing, with the old book smell on every page. But as I flipped through it, I realized that this was a treasure that had sat on my shelves untouched for too long, a book I had yet to read. It had been a birthday gift from a dear friend years before. I hadn’t meant to neglect it. In fact, I believe God sovereignly waited for the right time to share the story of The Hiding Place with me, showing his control over all things by allowing the book to sit on our shelves, collecting dust, until at last, I opened the book and the story finally made its way into my heart.

Biographies are my favorite genre to read, perhaps because they tell someone’s own story, another thread in the tapestry of God’s historical narrative. Being able to look at the span of someone’s life in a 300 page book and see God’s story of grace written across the pages is a great encouragement. The people in my favorite biographies become mentors to me. There is hope in knowing that God is working in the events of our lives for a purpose only he knows.

“I know that the experiences of our lives, when we let God use them, become the mysterious and perfect preparation for the work He will give us to do.” (The Hiding Place, p. 72)

The story begins with a glimpse into the lives of a small family and their community. Two sisters, Corrie and Betsie ten Boom and their father, a watchmaker, were a faithful Christian family living in the anxious days preceding the occupation of Holland in World War II. As persecution of the Jewish families in Holland grew, the ten Booms began to hide those who came to them for shelter. With the help of a friend, the ten Booms built a secret room inside their home. They held practice drills to prepare for the impending day of a horribly real life game of hide and seek. Out of devotion to Christ, this family created a Hiding Place for others. It seemed like practical life and spiritual realities were becoming mirrors of each other in their lives as the concept of a hiding place came from the very Scriptures they held so dear and from which Father read to his daughters every day.

“Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path . . . Thou art my hiding place and my shield: I hope in thy word . . . ” (Psalm 119:105, 114)

The hiding place was not just a secret room where a handful of people at a time could hide from an enemy who sought to destroy them. In the depths of their pain, these sisters who knew Christ so well hid in him. And he led them moment by moment through the shadows. He was their Light in darkness, their Hope in despair, their Exceeding Joy in the sadness that sought to overpower them. The Lord Jesus Himself became their Hiding Place.

God is intimately acquainted with all our ways (Ps. 139:3) and orders all things for his purpose. We are not meant to know all the purposes of God, but we are meant to seek and trust in him.

During their lives, Corrie and Betsie became intimately acquainted with suffering, and Betsie, abounding in childlike faith, reminded her sister to give thanks in all circumstances, for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus (1 Thess. 5:13). Betsie led her sister in faith and prayer, giving thanks for everything—even the fleas in their living quarters, for she knew her Savior had a Sovereign purpose even behind those fleas.

One of the most influential parts of this book was how these women prayed, “Lord show us how to live, show us the way.” Time and again, the Holy Spirit led them in practical, everyday steps. They did the next thing, trusting God to lead, and they acted in faith. I find that when I pray this way, my heart is focused on dependence upon him and his provision.

“My job was simply to follow His leading one step at a time, holding every decision up to Him in prayer.” (The Hiding Place, p. 81)

There were moments while reading when I held tightly to my yellow highlighter, marking up quotes I wanted to remember, even parenting advice from the ten Booms’ beloved Father. Other times, I was speechless, with eyes closed and tears streaming, not able to read another word of the nightmarish existence these sisters had to endure.

Corrie and Betsie remained valiantly faithful through this ordeal. But this story, in all its fullness, points to something beyond both Corrie and Betsie and their faithfulness. It points to a place of refuge, which is not really a place at all, but a Person. It was the gift of Jesus that was given to these women and it was Jesus who ministered through these women in the darkest place on earth. Jesus was their Hiding Place.

After my friend returned the book, I held it in my hands, knowing that I needed to read this story. God greatly impacted my thinking and my prayer life through this true story. I wanted to share this reflection with others because I believe it is a story that must not be forgotten.

“Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? . . . No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
(Romans 8:35-39)

Preparing Little Hearts for Easter

When my husband and I got married, we spent three months touring Europe for part of his Bachelor of Arts degree in Worship Arts. We visited several countries, churches and Christian communities. Our final week was spent at the Isle of Iona in Scotland where we experienced an intensely beautiful and meaningful Holy Week.

That week greatly influenced my husband’s worship ministry over the past decade. Through those years of having young children, our Easter traditions centered around church celebrations like Ash Wednesday, Lent, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, decorating the church on Holy Saturday and culminating with celebrating Easter Sunday. As my husband prepared the church for Holy Week, I prepared our children for worship at home. We included our children in the reading of Lent devotionals as a family, decorating at the church with colorful paper butterflies, attaching lilies to a wooden cross and beautifying the church sanctuary.

One year, the lilies were ordered a little too late and we spent a couple days turning up the temperature in our home, hoping that the lilies would open in time for Sunday! Another year, I attempted sewing together several incredibly long panels of fabric for our Good Friday service, which actually turned out quite nicely. I love that our family has served our church together in this way, to serve our church family and create meaningful experiences together as a community in worship of God. Some years, I made my Grandma’s Russian paska bread, hot cross buns or other dishes for a feast. I love to  read special children’s books to my kids, decorate eggs, prepare Easter egg hunts, potluck feasts with friends. One year, the kids and I even made a little homemade garden tomb in a pot on the back porch. Even though they are still young, they remember it! I love all these traditions that have decorated our family life for years! It gives me joy to serve my kids in this way and the greatest joy is seeing the layers of the gospel story go deeper in their hearts each year.

This year is our first Easter at seminary and we are creating new traditions here too! One of the ones we’ve added to our list is going to the botanical gardens on Holy Saturday! It is one of our favorite places to be. The flowers were blooming in all their glory and there were glimpses of what it will look like in a few weeks as everything bursts forth into color. Our children ran through all their favorite mazes and gardens. We go to the gardens often and find joy in seeing the changes of the seasons! Everything is always changing, growing, transforming, dying, and coming to life again. There is always something new to be amazed by, like the orchid display and the hundreds of varieties of lilies and the hungry koi fish eating our cheddar crackers. The gardens have been a place of rest and peace for us. It is a gift from our loving and good Shepherd. Praise to Jesus!

On Good Friday, I read to the kids about Christ’s crucifixion from The Child’s Story Bible. We had some good conversations based off of that. We went to church and experienced the joy of being together with church family, worshiping and meditating on God’s Word. Saturday, my husband made a delicious waffle breakfast and we talked about the confusion and grief that the disciples must have been experiencing that Saturday after his death. How would you have felt? What do you think the disciples did? We talked about how they probably gathered together in homes to be together and process what had happened.

Today was Resurrection Day and we sang of our Redeemer, who conquered sin and death and rose again in power and glory. All praise and glory to You, Lord Jesus. It is You we live for. You are risen. You are risen, indeed… and we wait for You.