On Any Given Lord's Day

The Lord's Day

The secret of the Bride come near,
And happy the faces gathered here.
We are many, we are one,
Bound in Him - Eternal Son.

So whether tired or sorrow filled,
That we come, this is His will.
Beckoned here by His own call,
And by His grace do we enter all,

In chapel small or cathedral grand,
'Tis  round God's throne bared we stand.
In mercies sweet, and forgiveness full,
Eminent Anthem of Life - You rule.
-J.N. 7/7/13 Messiah Lutheran, Nampa ID

I jotted this down a few weeks ago as I watched the people mill and listened to the preceding music to the Introit.  Precious families with cherub faced babies and ones with teens sitting next to their Moms and Dads.  There was a baptism of three daughters, 4,6, &12 and their first communion later in service.
I'd been at my Mom's for almost three months and had visited three churches - where I went depended on times and health constraints.  This was a later, "contemporary service" I had chaffed at going to, but with circumstances it was my only safe choice as it was just an hour long and two minutes away. 
During the Table, I watched as these precious families went forward and received the table. The Lord again put His sword on my pride and I sat there in complete admonishment and complete joy concurrently. As the Holy Spirit knocked my noggin at each blessing, my heart swelled with thanksgiving and a knowing I was right where He wanted me.
I'm am thankful to be home. Sitting with my husband and our great-nephew yesterday as we took the elements, I remembered.  The Bride sits on rows, and on benches, on floors, in houses, in chapels, in great buildings, and He is there, He is the Center, He rules.  Blessed be His name.



Hope Springs in Every Breast

The old days, the old days, how oft the poets sing,

The days of hope at dewy morn, the days of early spring,

The days when every mead was fair, and every heart was true,

And every maiden wore a smile, and every sky was blue

The days when dreams were golden and every night brought rest,

The old, old days of youth and love, the days they say were best

But I--I sing the new days, the days that lie before,

The days of hope and fancy, the days that I adore.

The new days, the new days, the selfsame days they are;

The selfsame sunshine heralds them, the selfsame evening star

Shines out to light them on their way unto the Bygone Land,

And with the selfsame arch of blue the world to-day is spanned.

The new days, the new days, when friends are just as true,

And maidens smile upon us all, the way they used to do,

Dreams we know are golden dreams, hope springs in every breast;

It cheers us in the dewy morn and soothes us when we rest.

The new days, the new days, of them I want to sing,

The new days with the fancies and the golden dreams they bring;

The old days had their pleasures, but likewise have the new

The gardens with their roses and the meadows bright with dew;

We love to-day the selfsame way they loved in days of old;

The world is bathed in beauty and it isn't growing cold;

There's joy for us a-plenty, there are tasks for us to do,

And life is worth the living, for the friends we know are true.

-Edgar Guest "The New Days" from Just Folks

I, like many, are concerned, or rather mulling, over the our nation's decisions of the last few days. But I was reminded as I sat on the back patio and looked out over the field, with horses wagging the trees to itch a scratch and the beautiful blackbird adorned in bright orange and yellow shoulder pads, how lovely is the world and all her passing vanities.

The days are dark, but haven't they always been? But then again, on that one truly dark day, our Lover pushed back and it -  the insemination of all light, of all hope,and the very end of all story. 

I remind myself, He's got this, His birds are chirping away at the wonder of His Glory. 

Numerberless Fathers are True

You think that the failures are many,

    You think the successes are few,

But you judge by the rule of the penny,

    And not by the good that men do.

You judge men by standards of treasure

    That merely obtain upon earth,

When the brother you're snubbing may measure

    Full-length to God's standard of worth.

The failures are not in the ditches,

    The failures are not in the ranks,

They have missed the acquirement of riches,

    Their fortunes are not in the banks.

Their virtues are never paraded,

    Their worth is not always in view,

But they're fighting their battles unaided,

    And fighting them honestly, too.

There are failures to-day in high places

    The failures aren't all in the low;

There are rich men with scorn in their faces

    Whose homes are but castles of woe.

The homes that are happy are many,

    And numberless fathers are true;

And this is the standard, if any,

    By which we must judge what men do.

Wherever loved ones are awaiting

    The toiler to kiss and caress,

Though in Bradstreet's he hasn't a rating,

    He still is a splendid success.

If the dear ones who gather about him

    And know what he's striving to do

Have never a reason to doubt him,

    Is he less successful than you?

You think that the failures are many,

    You judge by men's profits in gold;

You judge by the rule of the penny--

    In this true success isn't told.

This falsely man's story is telling,

    For wealth often brings on distress,

But wherever love brightens a dwelling,

    There lives; rich or poor, a success.

-Edgar Guest, "Just Folks" 

Their virtues are never paraded,

    Their worth is not always in view,...

The homes that are happy are many,

    And numberless fathers are true;

But wherever love brightens a dwelling,

    There lives; rich or poor, a success.

I am going out to pluck rose for Daddy's grave off one of the bushes he and Momma planted when they moved here. This poem is in honor of him, but even more so for my daughter's father.

Giving thanks for fathers who earnestly seek to walk in the gargantuan footsteps of the Father of All. Blessed be His Name.

Written, the Days, When as Yet There Were None of Them

In her room at the prow of the house
Where light breaks, and the windows are tossed with linden,
My daughter is writing a story.

I pause in the stairwell, hearing
From her shut door a commotion of typewriter-keys
Like a chain hauled over a gunwale.

Young as she is, the stuff
Of her life is a great cargo, and some of it heavy:
I wish her a lucky passage.

But now it is she who pauses,
As if to reject my thought and its easy figure.
A stillness greatens, in which

The whole house seems to be thinking,
And then she is at it again with a bunched clamor
Of strokes, and again is silent.

I remember the dazed starling
Which was trapped in that very room, two years ago;
How we stole in, lifted a sash

And retreated, not to affright it;
And how for a helpless hour, through the crack of the door,
We watched the sleek, wild, dark

And iridescent creature
Batter against the brilliance, drop like a glove
To the hard floor, or the desk-top,

And wait then, humped and bloody,
For the wits to try it again; and how our spirits
Rose when, suddenly sure,

It lifted off from a chair-back, 
Beating a smooth course for the right window
And clearing the sill of the world.

It is always a matter, my darling,
Of life or death, as I had forgotten.  I wish
What I wished you before, but harder.

"The Writer" - Richard Wilbur

My darlin daughter,Kelsey, is 19 today. I called and she, her Dad and a friend were out out a Waffle House having breakfast - one of her favs.  

 I thank my God in all my remembrance of you, always in every prayer with joy, ...And I am sure of this, that He who began a good work in you will bring it completion at the day of Jesus Christ.  ... And it is my prayer that your love may abound more and more with knowledge and all discernment, so that you may approve what is excellent, and so be pure and blameless for the the day of Christ, to the glory and praise of God.

Toddler's Creed

My biblestudy friend has a little 2 year old grandson she watches every morning, and a few weeks ago she mentioned this to me and we laughed.   It still makes me laugh... I love two year olds... they are just so, well, two, no sophistication to their want-sies. 

Toddler's Creed

 

If I want it, it's mine.

If I give it to you and change my mind later, it's mine.

If I can take it away from you, it's mine.

If I had it a little while ago, it's mine.

If it's mine it will never belong to anyone else... no matter what.

If we are building something together, all the pieces are mine.

If it looks like mine, it is mine.

It makes me laugh, and it makes my forehead crinkle -- ahhh, so ...when the last time I had a two's moment?

I saw this last night, and it made me think, ahh.. yup!
 

Cinnamon Roll Liturgy

Cinnamon Roll Liturgy

Q: Why do we eat cinnamon rolls for breakfast on this day, when all other days we eat toast, cereal, or eggs?

A: We eat them to remind us this is Resurrection Sunday, the day we celebrate our Lord Jesus Christ rising from the dead.

Q: Why are the cinnamon rolls made with sweet bread?

A: The sweetness of the bread reminds us that Jesus is the bread of life and our one and only true source of sustenance and sweetness.

Q: Why is cinnamon used in the rolls instead of another spice?

A: The cinnamon reminds us of the bitterness of the cross, and its shame – our Lord Jesus endured it- to pay the penalty of our sin, to bring us life everlasting.

Q: Why are the cinnamon rolls made with so much sugar and fat?

A: The sugar and fat reminds us that in Christ’s obedience we are imparted His goodness, and in following our covenant God we are free to enjoy His good and pleasant gifts and thereby escape the pain and death of hell.

Leader: The gifts of God for the people of God.  He is Risen.

Response: He is Risen, indeed.

Blessed be His name.

We eat homemade cinnamon rolls on Christmas and Easter... always.  The last 3 or 4 years we have done this liturgy or a form of it before eating the rolls. 

Caiden, my little grandnephew and I were elbow deep in cinnamon and brown sugar as we prepared the rolls for this afternoon - I reminded him about the liturgy and he said, "I will forget what to say."
I told him I had a page with the liturgy, just like church, (he's four - he can't even write his name yet).  But he's quite sure the paper will help.  I just had to smile.

It's coming.  He is risen, He is Lord.  And it is almost time to CELEBRATE!

Five Things I like about Pilgrim's Progress

Five Things I love about Pilgrim's Progress

1. I can be am dense- names that clearly label actions and intentions help me see myseslf. ahh..yikes.
2. Adversity happens. A lot. Often. It's normal.  Go figure...
3. Brothers have different strengths, and pull eachother out of near calamity.
4. God plants the weight of adventure in the soul- waiting is usually where we're planted admid soul growing adventure.
5. You need a hall pass to get into the celestial city.  Period. No exception, no part sies, no nothin - Just Jesus... everything drops at the cross and is given at the cross.