Yes, I have and I haven’t landed yet.  I am mid-jump (if that’s even a thing?) and while free falling I’m thinking how appropriate or ironic (take your pick) it is that my very first blog post back in July 2016 was simply, “welcome to my new blog, maybe.  technical difficulties are ruling currently/ stand by”

well, nothing much has changed since then.  Technology continues to be a thorn in my side.  We continue to do battle on a daily basis.  The thing is, I respect technology.  I acknowledge my need of her in order to accomplish many vital tasks each day.  I even wonder how I ever got along without her.  But she continues to give me the cold shoulder and a hard time, even though I need her help now more than ever.

You see, I have gone back to school, I am taking a college class.  I am good with the reading, the lectures, the homework; all that is involved.  The problem?  Things have changed since I was last in school.  Now you have to submit your homework electronically online, which means you have to DO your work electronically as well.  This means I need a password and a username and I need to create files and save things and attach things to other things.

Who knew?  Okay, probably everybody BUT me knew.  Did I mention it has been “awhile” since I was actually in college?  Let me just say that things have changed, as they tend to do.  Back in the day,  when I was in school, we used paper and pen and a typewriter and we handed our assignments (which were on paper) in to the professor in person.

Needless to say, the old excuse, “the dog ate my homework”, is no longer believable nor is it accepted.  It has been replaced with such gems as, “my hard drive crashed”, “my password doesn’t work anymore”, “I pressed ‘save’ but it ended up deleted”, and my personal favorite, ” the cloud lost my homework and I can’t get it back.  Can you talk to the cloud for me?”

Currently, I have a technical support team of experts working round the clock to fix my technological kinks, so that I might be able to submit my classwork through the approved online site.  Okay, really they are three of my neighbors, but these ladies are all best friends with technology and if they can’t help me then there is no help for me.  Hopefully, they will put in a good word for me with technology.  In the meantime, I so appreciate their kindness, patience and help.

So my free fall continues, there is no going back.  (obviously, you can’t “un-bungee” once you jump)  I have put my hand to the plow, I am committed to successfully finishing this class.  And even to taking more classes!  Yes, I will bungee again — but first I have to complete this jump (or class as the case may be)

So wish me luck, dear readers, and tell technology to be nicer to me because I desperately need her cooperation and her help right now!

“Jesus looked at them and said, ‘With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible’.”   (Matthew 19:26)

“I can do everything through Him who gives me strength.”   (Philippians 4:13)

“And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work.”   (2 Cor. 9:8)

sincerely,      Grace Day

so I got to thinking, if being “awful” is a bad thing, then is being “awless” a good thing?  It would stand to reason that this would be so.  The dictionary definition of awful includes the words, “horrible, disgusting, repulsive, terrible, nasty, odious”, as synonyms, so you get the idea.  Being “awless” or without these things would seem to be preferable to being full of them.

But I can’t get around the thought that to be awful is to be “full of aw” or actually full of awe.  And the definition of “awe” is “a feeling of reverential respect or fear or wonder or astonishment or amazement”.  Sure enough, the archaic definition of awful is, “inspiring reverential fear or wonder, impressive”.  So something that was awful used to be something or someone that was truly impressive or amazing, capable of inspiring reverence and wonder in the beholder, leaving them “full of awe”.  This is just the opposite of how we use the word awful today.

This got me to thinking about the word “wonderful”.  I would rather go through life full of a sense of wonder than without it, hence “wonderless”.  (not to be confused with “wanderlust”)  That’s what we all like about small children, they haven’t yet lost their sense of wonder.  To them, the world is still a magical, delightful place, full of new things just waiting to be discovered.  Every day is wonderful, full of the wonder of all God’s creation surrounding us, reminding us just how wonderful He is.

Many of us lose our sense of wonder somewhere along the way and wish that we could get it back.  I would rather walk through this world full of wonder than without it.  To be wonderless is to be lacking something essential in life’s journey. The ability to feel reverent fear and astonishment toward our Creator is necessary if we are to truly worship Him.

The song says He is an “awesome God” ,  but He is also an “awful” God in the truest sense of the word, meaning He is full of awe inspiring characteristics, such as His majesty and power and glory and omnipotence and eternality.  Realizing who God truly is should fill us with awe in His presence.

I want to live filled with wonder and awe in God’s presence.  If I lose these gifts, I will live a wonderless, aweless life, not the abundant life God intended for me. May my heart be full of awe and wonder when I worship Him.  He is the God of miracles and of mercy.  He alone is worthy of praise.

” . . .  I saw the Lord seated on a throne, high and exalted, and the train of His robe filled the temple.   Above Him were seraphs,  . . . and they were calling to one another: ‘Holy, holy, holy is the Lord Almighty; the whole earth is full of His glory.'”(Isaiah 6:1-3)

“O Lord my God, You are very great; You are clothed with splendor and majesty. He wraps Himself in light as with a garment; He stretches out the heavens like a tent and lays the beams of His upper chambers on their waters.”  (Psalm 104:1-3)

truly wonderful, truly awful for sure,

sincerely,     Grace Day

 

 

 

that’s right, I’m continuing what I started in the earlier post, “when less is more”.  I just can’t help myself.  (am I helpless?)   but I’m thinking it’s good to be tireless in whatever we are doing, better than to be full of tire or tireful.  Tireless is defined as being hard-working, zealous, determined, tenacious, not giving up; all good things.  I want to live tireless, rather than full of tiredness, discouragement and defeat.  Here “less” is “more”.

I want to live shameless, not shameful.  Shame is a heavy burden to carry through life.  Christ didn’t mean for us to live full of shame, He came to take that burden from us. Here again, “less” is “more”; throw off everything that hinders and travel light through this life.  Which brings me to weightless and waitless.  I think I would choose both over weightful and waitful.  Maybe it’s just my heart that I want to be weightless, not weighed down by the cares of this world which at times become a crushing weight, too heavy to carry on my own.  And waitless would be wonderful, now wouldn’t it?  Imagine being without the wait in traffic, in store checkout lines, in doctors’ offices, in airports, on hold on the phone, etc.  This “less” would definitely be “more”, more time for . . . well, you fill in the blank.

Which brings me to painless.  Of course I want to live a painless life, not a painful one.  Who would choose a life full of pain over a life without pain?  But if my life is painless, I have to ask myself, am I alive?  am I living or merely existing?  I instinctively seek to avoid pain at all costs, both physical and emotional.  Yet it is pain that reminds me I am alive.  Physical pain reassures me that I am still among the living just as emotional pain confirms to me that I am human, that I am capable of feeling not only my own pain but the pain of others as well.

This is a gift, a gift our pain bestows on us that we do not discover until the pain subsides and with the low tide of our heart’s hurt, pain’s gift is revealed.  This gift, previously hidden in the waves of our pain, is now uncovered for us to claim as our own.  This gift, left there for us on a beach laid bare with the brokenness of our own heart’s grief, is our unexpected reward, replacing what the pain has stolen from us. The gift of empathy for all hurting souls.  The gift of being fully connected in our suffering to all who suffer and therefore the gift of being fully alive.  This is the gift of my pain.  This is the gift of your pain to you.

Physical pain is a lesser pain than emotional pain and is the more easily treated. We can take medicine for our muscular aches and pains, headaches etc.  and usually get a good result.  Emotional pain is much more devastating, debilitating and more difficult to treat.  We do have medicines to help, but there is really no cure for a broken heart.  And our hearts are broken more often than we would care to admit.  Our lives are full of loss, this is the price we pay for letting others into our lives.  The pain of loss is sharp but it beats the alternative, the pain of isolation in an attempt to keep from ever having to suffer loss.

After a workout at the gym I feel all kinds of aches and pains I didn’t feel before. They are a signal to me that I am still alive, (I have survived the workout) and that I am in the process of becoming stronger and more physically fit.  Pain is part of the process, it is a price I am willing to pay.  When my heart hurts I am assured that it is still working, even in its’ broken state.  I still have the ability to feel, my heart has not turned to stone.

The only way to go through life pain free is to go through life numb or with a heart of stone.  In our culture, which tells us we should avoid pain at all costs, we do everything we can to live a painless life and the cost is high.  Self medicating so as to “feel no pain” results in all kinds of life long addictions to alcohol, pain killers and multiple other legal and illegal drugs.  This is a high price to pay just to avoid feeling pain.

The thing is, if I can’t feel pain then I also can’t feel joy or love or hope or comfort or anything good.  I don’t choose pain, it finds me just as it finds you, dear readers. I wouldn’t choose pain but I have to admit that it’s been pain in my life that provides me the opportunity to grow closer to other people and to God.  It’s pain that teaches me empathy and compassion.  It’s pain that connects me to the hurting hearts of others.  It is pain that forces me beyond myself.  It is pain that forces me to change and to grow.

If I can’t feel my own pain then I can’t feel another person’s pain.  If I don’t acknowledge my own pain, I won’t be able to acknowledge another person’s pain. If I numb myself to my own pain, I will be oblivious to the suffering of those around me as well.  And if I am oblivious to their sufferings, then I cannot share them. I cannot show them care and compassion.  Compassion requires of me the ability to feel another’s hurt as if it were my own.  My pain has a purpose, a greater purpose beyond myself.

Living with a broken heart is preferable to living with a heart of stone.  I know as I walk in this world with my heart broken, it’s my Heavenly Father who fills the broken places and the empty spaces with His abiding, sustaining, all sufficient love.  Brokenness makes room for His presence.  A heart of stone feels no pain and lets no one in.  A heart of flesh will be bruised and battered and broken but its owner will experience the beauty God brings from such a heart that is fully His.

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”  (Psalm 34:18)

sincerely,     Grace Day

 

 

 

 

so I got to thinking  . . .  if being ruthless is a bad thing, then is being ruthful a good thing?  It would stand to reason logically that being full of “ruth” would be good, if being ruthless (without any ruth) is not good.  But just what is “ruth” anyway and how do I get some or more of it?

The dictionary defines ruthless as cruel, heartless, merciless, pitiless, uncaring, callous; well you get the idea.  So is ruthful the opposite of all these? meaning kind, full of heart, merciful etc.  The name Ruth means “compassionate friend” or “companion”.  This would certainly fit with the Ruth of the Old Testament.  She was a compassionate friend and companion to her mother in law, Naomi.  Ruth proved this by leaving her home and traveling with Naomi to her homeland, where Ruth could expect to know no one and to be an outcast by virtue of the fact that she would be a foreigner among Naomi’s people.  Still she went with Naomi.

Yes, I want to be ruthful.  I want to be full of those qualities that made Ruth the compassionate friend and companion that she was to Naomi.  And Naomi was no picnic, by the way.  She was old, alone, broken and bitter, mad at the world and mad at God.  Naomi was consumed with self pity and full of complaints for anyone who would listen.  Ruth heard and Ruth listened and Ruth lived out her response to Naomi’s heartbreak.

“But Ruth replied, (to Naomi) ‘Don’t urge me to leave you or to turn back from you.  Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay.  Your people will be my people and your God my God.  Where you die I will die, and there I will be buried.  May the Lord deal with me be it ever so severely, if anything but death separates you and me.’ ”  (Ruth 1:16-17)

Lord, help me to be that kind of a friend to anyone You would send my way, that like Naomi, needs a friend.  Help me to be ruthful not ruthless.  Help me to be Ruth to them.

sincerely,                Grace Day

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We operate under the assumption that more is better.  In a past post entitled “living ful”, I pointed to examples where I thought this premise rang true.  But I’ve been thinking.  Sometimes less is really more, or at least more to be desired than the more we so often desire.  Let me explain.

I don’t want to be dreadful or to be fearful.  Who wants to live full of dread and full of fear?  Not me.  I want to live dreadless and fearless.  I don’t want to be prideful.  After all, pride goes before a fall.  God opposes the proud and He humbles them.  Being full of pride makes life difficult for me and for those around me.  Living prideless seems the more satisfying alternative.

I definitely want to be flawless and faultless and for my home to be spotless.  The alternative, being flawful, faultful, and spotful is to be avoided if at all possible. We spend a lot of our time and our energy trying to be less full of flaws and faults and spots.

Speaking, whether in or out of turn, often gets me into trouble.  So maybe being speechless, some of the time at least, is a more desirable quality than being speechful.  Being soundless may also be beneficial, even desirable.  Psalm 46:10 commands me to “be still and know that I am God.”   That’s impossible for me to do if I am soundful,  so some soundless time is something to be sought.

I would totally choose effortless over effortful any day.  But the reality is that the most worthy endeavors require effort on my part, so I am rethinking that one.  I should probably choose to be effortful, because I need all the effort I can get my hands on to meet the challenges of each day.

It would be too heavy a burden to live vengeful, so I will have to go with vengeless on this one.  Living full of vengeance is exhausting.  Living vengeless is the more desirable option, coming with a considerably lighter load.  Also I would want to be harmless.  I have no wish to be harmful to anyone.

There are lots of other “lesses” I would aspire to be.  I would want to be guiltless and blameless and matchless and timeless and definitely ageless!  and priceless, too.  I’m thinking the irony of priceless is that something is so “full” of price (value) that it then becomes “priceless” or without price simply because its’ price cannot be adequately assessed.  So now I’m rethinking ageless.  If it means so “full” of age that one’s age cannot be accurately assessed, count me out.  In these cases “less” really IS more, literally.

I definitely want to learn to live selfless.  Living selfful or full of self is not a good way to go through life.  Less of me is definitely more.

One that I try to be but can’t, is sinless.  Only one person has lived a sinless life, Jesus.  He has paid the price for my sin with His death, defeated death with His resurrection and now intercedes for me with God.  I’ll never be sinless, but I can choose not to pursue a sinful life, not to fill my life with sin.  Less is definitely more when it comes to sin.

Lastly, I don’t want to live regretful.  Living full of regret is a hard way to go through life.  Living regretless is the goal, the less regret the better.  Once again less is more.  There’s something to be said for traveling light.

“. . . let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.”   (Hebrews 12:1)

sincerely,       Grace Day

 

 

 

 

 

It looked like an ordinary day for me to the casual observer, but I knew it wasn’t.  I went about my work and my routine as usual so no one would suspect.  I knew the truth about today.  Not many did however.  How could they?  I told no one.  I never did.  And so my day passed quietly, without fanfare.  And I told myself that was my preference.

It hadn’t always been this way.  Back when those to whom my arrival into this world was a wonderful, monumental, noteworthy event were living, my birthday was also all of those things to them and so to me as well by extension.  But those who truly rejoiced at my birth and know my story are no longer here.  I feel their absence keenly on days such as my special day.  And I understand, because that’s the way I feel about the birthdays of my own children.  Their birthdays are the monumental markers of my own life.

What’s surprising as well as slightly disconcerting, is the amount of personal birthday greetings I receive in the mail from the most impersonal of senders. Seems like everyone is aware of my birthday except my own children.  Even google had dancing birthday candles on cake on my computer screen that day.  Google knows my birthday?   Well, okay, it’s a given that google knows all, however creepy that might be.  (didn’t they used to call that Big Brother and be worried about it?) The upside to having a google birthday cake like this, is that it is definitely lo-cal, however lacking in taste and texture it might be.

I received birthday greetings from my car dealer, bank, insurance company and assorted other places of business.  They all seemed genuinely happy about my birthday and sincerely wished me well.  Of course, for the most part, there are no names or faces associated with these well meaning well wishers.  They do not know me.

And I long to be known.  Known not as a number but as myself.  Especially not a number.  Whoever said “age is just a number”?  I’d like to have a chat with them. Did they live in this culture and how old were they when they said that?  I would like to know these things.

So google knows me, it would appear?  But does caring about me come with that knowing about me?  Does googles’ knowledge of me equal care, compassion or concern for me?  I have my doubts.

Then these words came to mind from Psalm 139; “For You created my inmost being; You knit me together in my mother’s womb.  I praise You because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from You when I was made in the secret place.  When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, Your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in Your book before one of them came to be.”

“The Lord is good to all; He has compassion on all He has made.”  (Psalm 145:9)

“Are not two sparrows sold for a penny?  Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of Your Father.  And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered.  So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.”  (Matt. 10:29-31)

So, google may know my number and my birthday but was it there when I was created?  I don’t think so.  Does it have compassion on me like my Heavenly Father does?  I think not.  Does google rejoice over me with singing?  (Zephaniah 3:17) (does google have a voice?  okay, I know Alexa does but she doesn’t know me any better than google does and she didn’t remember my birthday)  Is my name engraved on the palms of googles’ hands? (Isaiah 49:16)  (google doesn’t even have hands)

In this world where the impersonal masquerades as personal, (hence all my birthday cards from businesses and organizations) I long for the truly personal.  I find it with my Heavenly Father, who knows me best of all.

“O Lord, You have searched me and You know me.  You know when I sit and when I rise; You perceive my thoughts from afar.  You discern my going out and my lying down; You are familiar with all my ways.  Before a word is on my tongue You know it completely, O Lord.”  (Psalm 139:1-4)

My Heavenly Father celebrates each and every one of my birthdays and He celebrates each and every one of yours as well.  Parents always celebrate the birthdays of their children.

“How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God!  And that is what we are!”  (1 John 3:1)

sincerely,           Grace Day

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I say to myself, if I had seen God part the Red Sea, I would not do what the Israelites did.  I would not doubt, I would not question, I would not grumble, I would not disobey.

no, that would be enough for me — to see the parting of the sea.

I mean, the Garden of Eden wasn’t enough for Adam and Eve.  But if I had lived in the garden and walked with God and talked with God and heard His voice, I wouldn’t do what they did.  I would not doubt, I would not question, I would not grumble, I would not disobey.

no, that would have been enough for me — to live in God’s garden, in a world sin free.

if I had seen the fall of Jericho’s walls, from trumpets’ blasts and soldiers’ calls; I wouldn’t doubt, I wouldn’t question, I wouldn’t grumble, I wouldn’t disobey.

no, it would be enough for me to witness such a victory.

if I had been with Daniel’s friends in the furnace of the king, and lived to tell the tale to all, that no harm came from such a thing.  I would not doubt, I would not question, I would not grumble, I would not disobey.

no, it would be enough for me, to leave the furnace alive, burn free.

I tell myself, if God gave me manna every day, I would be grateful for His provision and I wouldn’t question His decision.  I wouldn’t doubt, I wouldn’t grumble and I wouldn’t disobey, like the Israelites in the desert who did all those things.

no, it would be enough for me to have my daily bread, I would be grateful to be fed.

I tell myself these things are so, if only I’d lived so long ago.  I think myself so different, but I am the same.  I am an Israelite in everything, in every way but name.

Jesus parted time in two when He came to earth, He conquered every foe including death.  He knocked down every wall between God and me, including the walls around my heart.  That should be enough for me.  Still, I behave like the Israelites.  I doubt, I question, I grumble, I disobey.

it should be enough for me,  that He took my place on Calvary.

It’s a miracle Jesus loves me, it’s a miracle He came, a miracle He rose from the dead, a miracle He knows my name.  God’s miracles surround me, if I would open my eyes to see.  what I do see clearly now, is the Israelite in me.

“The Israelites said to them, ‘If only we had died by the Lord’s hand in Egypt!  There we sat around pots of meat and ate all the food we wanted, but you have brought us out into this desert to starve this entire assembly to death.’ ”  (Exodus 16:3)

“He guided them with the cloud by day and with light from the fire all night.  He split the rocks in the desert and gave them water as abundant as the seas;  . . . But they continued to sin against Him, rebelling in the desert against the Most High.  . . . When the Lord heard them, He was very angry; . . . for they did not believe in God or trust in His deliverance.  Yet He gave a command to the skies above and opened the doors of the heavens; He rained down manna for the people to eat, He gave them the grain of heaven.  Men ate the bread of angels; He sent them all the food they could eat.”  (Psalm 14-25)

“Immediately the boy’s father exclaimed, ‘I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!’ ”  (Mark 9:24)

sincerely,     Grace Day