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

 

 

 

we are advised “to make a good impression” when meeting people for the first time.    well,  first impressions may be important but they should never have the last word.  Lasting impressions take a little longer.  A truer picture requires a little time and effort.  We are so much more than meets the eye.  (we are icebergs, remember?)

“The Lord does not look at the things man looks at.  Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.”  (1 Samuel 16:7)

“It is only with the heart that one can see rightly;  what is essential is invisible to the eye.”  Antoine de Saint Exupery

this is good advice which I must take to heart (pun intended) and put into practice every day.  My world is full of invisible people waiting to be seen and icebergs waiting to be discovered.

sincerely,               Grace Day

 

my task is to create a profile for myself or rather of myself, not a visual one but a written one.  Either task to me is equally daunting.  I think I would prefer the artist’s challenge of capturing myself on canvas, although, how do they do that? There have been some self portraits by famous artists over the years, but this is to be a profile, which is different than a portrait.  Different how? you ask.  Well, a profile is a side view, a silhouette, an outline, a sketch.  It lacks the depth and dimension that a portrait would provide about its’ subject.

But you see, dear readers, I have entered the world of online dating and I am required to create a profile to post with my picture and my other information, my stats if you will.  (and I thought only athletes had stats?)  Something in me is pushing back at this routine request, actually outright rebelling would be closer to the truth.  You see, I think we are more than our resumes!

In attempting to put my life on paper, something is lost in the process.  The very words I pen in an attempt to define me, instead confine me, putting limits on who I am, as I feel compelled to stay within the lines I have drawn for myself or worse yet, to stay within the lines that others have drawn for me.  We are each so much more than simply the sum of our cumulative life experiences.  Our whole is always greater than the sum of our many parts or facets.  We are not a mathematics equation; we do not equal the sum of all our parts, we far exceed it.  This is true for each and every one of us.

We are more than a list of our likes and our dislikes.  We are more than a list of our accomplishments.  We are more than the list of our failures and our struggles as well.  (but who will include these in the profile they create?)  And so it will happen that strangers will read my words.  But will they read between the lines? Will they know the truths that lie behind the words?  Will they hear what is left unsaid?  Will they hear my heart?

We each have a story to tell.  Actually, we accumulate many stories over our life time. We weave them together into the fabric that we wear as we go through life. This fabric with which we clothe ourselves becomes our life story.  We are so much more than meets the eye.  We are more than a profile.  We are each a full-fledged portrait, meant to be beheld in person.

And that is where cyberspace falls short.  I want an in person relationship in the real world, not a cyber relationship in the on-line world.  Could the former result from the latter?  Time will tell.  Given all the problems technology and I have in getting along, it will take a miracle to make a real world connection.  I’m hanging on to my mustard seed even as I write these words.  My God says a mustard seed is all that is necessary.

Bottom line, I don’t want to know someone’s profile, I want to know them.  And I want someone to know me.

“Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face.  Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.”  (1Corinthians 13:12)

sincerely,    Grace Day

 

appearance and reality are often two very different things;  forced to choose, I choose reality every time.  why?  reality may be less pretty, more painful, less glamorous, more mundane,  but reality is always more, well, real.   let’s face it, appearance is by definition a mere “apparition” or image of something, not the thing itself.

I’d rather have nothing than have the appearance of something, while lacking the very substance of that thing I so desire, whatever it might be.   An empty reality is preferred over an abundant appearance every time.  Appearance has no ability to satisfy, to challenge or to reveal truth.  Reality reveals truth, challenges me to face that truth and grow, and therefore ultimately has the potential to satisfy. Appearance has no staying power, she is an image, an illusion, an apparition fleeting by nature.  Reality provides me the power to relate to others who dare to be real as well.

So buyer beware;  things/people are not always as they appear to be.  In fact, almost never.

“The Lord does not look at the things man looks at.  Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.”  (1 Samuel 16:7)

sincerely,         Grace Day

joy, that ever elusive, always sought after feeling or is joy even a feeling? and if not, then what is joy?  a state of being? a way of living?  I do know that she is often confused with happiness, her counterfeit cousin.  Happiness, so circumstantial, so fleeting; as fleeting as the circumstances which heralded her arrival to began with.  She never tarries long with anyone.

But joy,  she abides in unexpected places and shows herself when I am not looking for her.  When I have given up my search and seek instead others’ hurts to heal or others’ burdens to share, it is joy that keeps me company in these endeavors. Often, I am not aware of her presence.  She is quiet.  She does not announce herself nor ask that I announce or acknowledge her presence within me.  She makes herself at home and lingers long despite the storms that rage around me. They do not scare joy nor run her off.

Joy entered into our existence with the birth of Jesus.  The angel told the shepherds that very night, “Do not be afraid.  I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people.  Today . . .  a Savior has been born to you; He is Christ the Lord.”  (Luke 2:10-11)

Joy stays with me in difficulty and in grief.  She comes alive when I read God’s Word or when I obey His commands.  Joy is most visible when I bring her to others. Otherwise, she abides with me, a quiet guest, making no demands, yet filling places in me that, were they left empty, would fill with things too heavy for me to carry, crushing me beneath their weight.  Joy gives me her wings and teaches me to fly.  She never leaves me nor forsakes me because Jesus never does.  Jesus is the author of joy.  Apart from Him she does not exist.

“Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance.”  (James 1:2-3)

“. . . Do not grieve, for the joy of the Lord is your strength.”  (Nehemiah 8:10)

Jeremiah said of God’s Words, “they were my joy and my heart’s delight,”  (Jer. 15:16)

Jesus told His followers, “If you obey My commands, you will remain in my love, just as I have obeyed My Father’s commands and remain in His love.  I have told you this so that My joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete.”  (John 15:10-11)

I do not need to find my way to joy, for joy has found her way to me.  She has been with me all along.  She is light in her abiding and she sheds light when my way is dark.  Thank you, God, for Your good gift of joy.

“. . . for I have redeemed you.  Sing for joy, O heavens, for the Lord has done this;”  (Isaiah 44:22-23)

sincerely,           Grace Day

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The morning moon, lies pearl white, stark and still in an ink black, predawn sky, alone now that all the stars have gone to bed.  She takes my breath away while time stands still, as still as this morning before the world awakens.  My heart aches in that moment of beholding her, pausing to rejoice at such beauty freely bestowed on any bold enough to turn their gaze from earth to heaven, if only for an instant.

It is only a moment in the slow, swift approach of the coming day that morning moon and I share.  I look away, overwhelmed, her beauty too much to fully take in a moment more.  I tell myself I will remember how it was and turn my eyes to other tasks that take my time.

When next I look for her again, the sky is now a palest blue and my morning moon, still there to keep me company, has become a paler, more translucent version of her once luminous self.  She now must share the sky with the morning sun, but still she lingers, unwilling to disappear though her allotted time is past. This ancient ritual, the changing of the guard, plays out with me as witness once again. My morning moon hangs on, deigning or daring (depending on your point of view) to share the sky a little longer with her constant rival.

Oh, morning moon!  Such beauty I cannot contain, though I long to reach out and hold her here with me, if only for a moment more.  I long to possess what cannot be possessed, perchance to purchase what is not for sale but is God’s gift to one and all.  The beauty in this still life moment, this moment that is not still at all, but oh so fleeting, eluding any grasp I would attempt, leaves me to wonder, did I see her thus at all?, when she has finally left her place and gone to grace another’s sky.

“And God said, ‘Let there be lights in the expanse of the sky to separate the day from the night, and let them serve as signs to mark seasons and days and years, and let them be lights in the expanse of the sky to give light on the earth.’  And it was so.  God made two great lights — the greater light to govern the day and the lesser light to govern the night.  He also made the stars.  God set them in the expanse of the sky to give light on the earth, to govern the day and the night, and to separate light from darkness.  And God saw that it was good.”   (Genesis 1:14-18)

sincerely,      Grace Day

 

 

now that I  “AM” my mother ( the very thing I spent my life resisting, don’t we all?) I totally “get” her and I want to tell her this.  Because now I understand and with this newfound understanding comes total and complete admiration for the woman that she was.  I want to tell her this but she is no longer here.  She is no longer here to hear my admission, my confession, my revelation.  How I long to reveal to her this newfound revelation of mine, (which has taken me quite by surprise) that we might revel in it together and share the joy of my discovery.  Yes, I am now my mother and that is not such a bad thing after all.

“Honor your father and your mother, so that you may live long in the land the Lord your God is giving you.”  (Exodus 20:12)

sincerely,       Grace Day