A Child’s Prayer

While walking with my young cousin the other day, we came upon a dead bird. It didn’t look like it had been dead very long. In fact when a breeze gently moved its feathers, it almost looked as if it was going to take wings and fly off.

But while I merely glanced at it and didn’t give it a whole lot of thought, my young cousin stopped and stared at it. At first I thought she was bothered by looking at it because it was dead, so I tried to steer her around it so we could go on our way. I told her it was dead and couldn’t hurt her.

But it wasn’t the appearance of the dead bird that bothered her, it was simply the fact that he was dead that moved her young heart.

She asked if we could pray for it, and remembering my own youthful eulogies for birds and other dead animals my siblings and I buried in our back yard, I was prepared to say a few words in honor of the dearly departed.

But again my young cousin surprised me, and in the process she changed my heart.

“Dear Lord, ” she began, “bless this poor bird who got so dead. Let him have a place in your heaven where he won’t be dead no more. He’s so dead Lord and he needs you. In Jesus name we pray. Amen.”

Not a long prayer, but a heartfelt one nonetheless. And in that short prayer, this young child taught my older heart something of the utmost importance.

We should never be so caught up in our own moments that we dismiss someone else’s needs or dismiss their situation as though it was beyond hope. Regardless of who they are or what they look like to us, our hearts should always be moved to help them, even if all we have to offer is a heartfelt prayer.

If this young child could pray for a dead bird, how much more could we do for those who are yet alive and in need of someone to pray for them. If God hears a child’s prayer for a dead bird does He not hear our prayers for one another? If a young child’s heart can be moved to turn to God on someone else’s behalf, shouldn’t we all have that same attitude?

Prayer not only changes things, it changes people. That bird was still dead when we walked away, her prayer hadn’t changed that, but my heart had come alive by the sincerity of a child’s prayer. And I realized that our prayers aren’t always going to change our situations, but they do change us.

From her lips, to God’s ears, to my heart = A blessing.

Good People

Sometimes its the small insignificant moments that lead us to our greatest moments of enlightment. You know, those “light bulb” moments where the light within our mind suddenly turns on and we experience some great revelation and gain understanding about something that only moments before we had been in darkness about.

Well while listening to my five year old cousin’s account of all the bad kids in her kindergarten class, I had one such moment of my own.

She was explaining to me that she always listens to her teacher and does everything that her teacher tells her to do. Good kids she said, mind their teacher and don’t do bad things in the classroom. She of course was among the good kids because she never acted bad in class.

But the bad kids? They only listened to the teacher sometimes, and they did things the way they wanted to do them, not the way the teacher said to do them. They were not good people, they were bad.  Or at least in her eyes.

I wonder what she would have said if she had’ve heard me yelling at the dog this morning.

While trying to fill her food dish, Libby, my high strung terrier-mix became so excited that she knocked over her water dish sending water in every direction. Including the direction I was standing.

I was not a happy camper.

And after I yelled at her and sent her seeking a yell-free zone under the kitchen table, neither was she. But after a few soft spoken words and the sound of her food hitting her dish, she was convinced that I was a good person again and came out for her breakfast and gave me a lick that said all was forgiven.

But it caused me to pause for a moment and ask the question: What makes a person good?

Are we good because we do good things and good deeds for others? Are we good because we follow rules and adhere to the laws? Are we good because we never get angry or say hurtful things to others? Are we good because thats how others see us or how we see ourselves? Are we good just when we feel good inside?

What makes us good?

I’ve often heard people say “I know I’m a good person.” I’ve probably said this a time or two of myself. And I’ve also heard others say “She/He is good people”, when refering to certain people. But as I pondered this question, I realized some truths about being good that kind of suprised me.

The truth is, being good isn’t just about the things we do or say, especially just because someone else is watching. Sometimes being “good” is an image, not an indication of true character.

The truth is, being good isn’t just about saying or doing all the right things. The mouth can say a lot of things that the heart may know nothing about.

The truth is, being good isn’t just about saying happy things or never having a wrong word with or for someone else. Being good doesn’t mean we don’t get angry.

The truth is, that when we do chance to make a mistake  and do a “bad” thing, that doesn’t make us a bad person. Good people can still make bad mistakes that carry bad consequences.

So what makes us good?

“I am the vine, ye are the branches: He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit: for without me ye can do nothing.” (John 15:5 KJV)

Our goodness isn’t in our “hands”, its in our hearts.

It’s the goodness of the One who lives and abides within us that enables the goodness of our hearts to spill over into our lives.

A Priceless Gift

One of my favorite christmas songs is The Little Drummer Boy.

I love the way the melody is carried through out the song, and whether you hum it or sing it out loud, it doesn’t matter, you can still feel the very essence of that melody beating through you with every parumppapumpom.

But the other day, I had an “aha” moment that made me think not of the melody of this song, but the words.

In the song, the little drummer boy is saying how he has nothing to give this new born King. He has no gifts to bring like everyone else. He is poor, money is not at his disposal. What on earth could he ever offer a king?

But then he looks at what is in his own hands. His drum. And as he begins to play, he not only brings a gift to the newborn king, but he gives a gift to the world around him. Because of his drum beat, the animals begin to dance, Mary nods her head in time with his beat, and that newborn king smiles at him.

The other day, I was trying to write a piece for an online magazine. They were looking for writers who could write articles for their readers. Only a few writers would be chosen and given the opportunity to be a part of their magazine team.

As I sat down to write, my mind went completely blank. Who was I kidding, a small voice asked. Surely more experienced writers would submit pieces more polished and articluate than mine. I wasn’t even a published writer. I had no accolades or awards attributed to my name. I had nothing to offer.

I was sharing my experience with some fellow writers, and in just a few words they led me to my “aha” moment. I was gently, but firmly reminded that as a writer, I didn’t write for others or to pit my writing skills against other writers. I was reminded that first I had to write simply as an expression of what was already within me. I didn’t have to go looking for it as if it was lost, I just had to release what was already there.

Like that little drummer boy, I had to come to the realization that I could never give what others gave, I could only ever use what was within me and offer it as the true gift it really is.

That little drummer boy didn’t come to see himself as the best drummer, he only saw that he had to give the best he had.

Today I will sit down and write that article and I will submit it not in the hopes that it wins me a moment of recognition or a even a spot on that magazine team. But I will first write in recognition of my King and the gift He has placed within me, and I will offer it not so that I can be the best, but so that my best is given.

What a priceless gift indeed.

I saw God

I almost didn’t write this post today.

I had another topic all picked out to write about, but the minute I sat down to write it, a voice whispered something totally different to me. I wrestled with it for a little while, but no matter how I tried, the words I needed would not come.

And so today instead of my intended message, I offer to you what has been placed upon my heart in the hopes that it finds it’s intended target.

I saw God the other day.

He wasn’t wearing a white robe as He is depicted in pictures. He wasn’t a booming voice as He is portrayed in movies. No flash of lightening nor rolls of thunder proceeded His entrance. I didn’t hear Him as a whisper in the wind or as a voice in the night.

And yet I saw Him just the same.

Peeking into Mama Bird’s nest the other morning, I saw that one of her eggs had hatched. What had once just been an egg was now a hairless, pink, limp, helpless little creature. Too weak to even cry out, it’s small beak just opened and closed soundlessly.

There was nothing outwardly beautiful about this tiny being, in fact some would dare to call it ugly and turn away. But as I continued to stare at it, I knew I was seeing something more precious than anything I had ever seen.

Later I watched as Mama Bird tenderly cared for her small baby. Each time she heard its soundless cries, she carefully placed food in it’s waiting beak. When she felt his trembling body, she snuggled down in the nest with it and warmed it using her own body heat. And as darkness approached and her little one slept, she kept a diligent watch.

Thats when I saw Him.

Like that tiny, helpless, hairless, not so beautiful baby bird, I too had someone who tenderly loved and cared for me.

Inspite of my own “ugliness”, ugly attitudes and mindsets, ugly thoughts and deeds, He still saw the beauty He placed in me.

Where I was weak and helpless, He was my strength. When I can’t find the words to pray, He knows what I need and answers my every prayer. Even the silent ones.

And I never have to worry, because He is always covering me in His protection, shielding me from dangers seen and unseen.

And just as He watches over this Mama Bird and her lttle one, I know too that there is never a time I am not in His care.

I saw Him in that nest with those birds, I saw Him standing with me as I looked on at them, and I felt in in the stirring of my heart.

And this morning when I looked in Mama’s nest to check on her baby, I didn’t see an ugly duckling (or ugly birdie).

I saw Love.

Mama Bird faith

“But Christ is faithful as a son over God’s house. And we are his house, if we hold on to our courage and the hope of which we boast.” Hebrews 3:6

Anyone reading my recent posts would probably say I was a nature nut.

And granted, a lot of my writings lately have centered around birds. But interestingly enough, I’m not really a “bird” person. I don’t dislike them or anything, but I would much rather prefer the company of a dog to that of a bird.

But because God knows me and knows how to gain my attention, He often uses His examples in nature to teach me some of my most valuable lessons.

Who says God doesn’t speak?

So yes, this is a bird story, but stay with me.                                                                                           You may learn something too.

The other day I observed a bird’s nest on my porch.

It wasn’t the most beautiful thing to look at, and yet it caught my attention. It was made up of small tree twigs, leaves and dried grass. I even saw small strands of a multicolored string woven through it. The builder of this nest was a very resourceful little creature indeed.

But it was what I saw inside the nest that most held me captive.

Nestled inside were three small eggs.

They were the color of the sky on a perfect summer day. So perfect in their oval shape, they reminded me of those eggs you find in children’s easter baskets. It was hard looking at them to imagine tiny baby birds growing inside of them.

A little while later, I happened to look out and there sat Mama Robin snuggled in her nest keeping her baby eggs nice and warm.   Where was a camera when you needed it? Talk about a kodak moment!

But as I watched her, I noticed how her small beady eyes seemed to be taking in everything around her. Not much was going to sneak up on this little mama bird.

And I wondered then why did she have her nest so low to the ground? Surely she had to know she was at risk to falling prey to the neighborhood cats or even other bigger birds? And it struck me odd that she would have built her nest is such an open space on  my porch.

But the longer I watched her, I realized she knew something instinctively that most of us humans have to learn.

She had the courage to be moved by her faith.

She didn’t let her fear speak for her, she let her faith do that.

Whether in a tree or on the ground she already knew she’d be prey to something no matter where she built her nest. So instead she chose a nice comfy spot, and called it home.

Having courage doesn’t mean we’re not afraid, that little mama bird stayed very watchful. But rather having courage means we put good use to our faith in spite of our fears. 

Because God is faithful to us, we can have the courage to walk in faith as well.

Thats something to be encouraged by.

Everyday.

A New Song

 A bird doesn’t sing because it has an answer, it sings because it has a song.                                   -Maya Angela

This morning I was awakened by a chorus of chatty little birds outside my window.

Although the sun had not yet put in an appearance, it didn’t seem to matter to these talkative little creatures. I lay there listening as they called to each other and chirped among themselves. It was almost as if they were having a family reunion of sorts with everyone greeting each other and talking all at once.

 

And I was convinced they were all gathered around my bedroom window.

 

They were quite unashamedly loud for 5 a.m  Didn’t they know I was trying to get my last hour of sleep?

The nerve!

Oblivious to my distress, they chatted on, and no amount of wishing on my part could wish my fine feathered friends to someone else’s yard. In fact the longer I lay there, the nosier they seemed to get. 

 

I was just about to admit defeat and get out of bed, when suddenly over their noisy chatter rose a sound so melodiously sweet, that all other sound and noise faded to the background.

Somewhere amidst the chatter and chirp of all the others, one bird began to sing.

His small voice didn’t compete with the chatter of the other birds, instead he blended with their chorus and the sound that delighted my ears was so perfect that not even the world’s most accomplished symphony could have achieved it.

How like God to use nature to teach me what I had temporarily forgotten.

A new day was a gift, not a privilege.

 

If a small, seemingly insignificant little bird had the courage to began his morning with a song in his heart and praise on his lips, why couldn’t I?

Here was a creature who was homeless, at least by our standards. It lived at the mercy of nature’s elements everyday, searching and hunting his food daily. His was not a life of luxury such as I knew with a warm bed and cozy home.

And yet still it sang as though it had something to be thankful for.

Needless to say, I didn’t need my alarm clock to wake me up.

I had already had my wake up call

And how sweet it was.

…Sing unto the Lord a new song…

 

 

 

There’s no place like home

This morning I met a homeless woman.

Or at least she was before she moved into a home in my neighborhood.

This morning when she woke, she had a roof over her head and a sense of knowing that she had a place to call her own.  Not a place that was on loan or a temporary dwelling place, but a place she could finally call home.

Her home.

Recognizing that she had a need to tell her story to someone, I listened patiently while she shared her heart with me for the few minutes that our paths crossed. Someone once told me that what comes from the heart always reaches the heart. Listening to her story, I finally knew what that meant.

I saw her eyes light up as she recalled the generous people God had placed in her path along her way.  I saw her mother’s heart as she talked about her children. I heard weariness creep into her voice as she mentioned those who had not understood her struggle and had not been the support system in the way she needed. But what mesmerized me the most by her story, wasn’t in the words she spoke.

It was in the soft smile that still clung to her lips.

That smile told me more than any words could have ever spoken. It told me that in spite of her hardships and struggles, in spite of those who were not in her corner, in spite of her tears and fears, in spite of the odds against her, she was home.

In her home.

And in that few minutes of our chance encounter, I realized that home wasn’t just the house we resided in. It wasn’t just the walls that held our prized material possessions. It wasn’t just the place we worked jobs to live in.

It was the contentment in our hearts.

Suddenly I felt like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, and I wanted to click my heels three times and chant, “There’s no place like home.”

But instead I looked at her and with contentment overflowing from my own heart, I said the words her heart needed to hear.

 ”Welcome home neighbor.”

Happy Birthday to Me

Today was my birthday.

But all day long I felt as if something was missing. Something wasn’t quite right.

Don’t get me wrong. I love April the 14th. In fact, I think it should be a national holiday in every state including Hawaii. Businesses should close in honor of it, and schools should not be open. Even congress should not hold session out of observance for this special day.

I love my birthday.

But today for some reason. Something was missing.

I received cards and many well wishes from family and friends. A few people even bought me special gifts and expressions of their respect and love for me. Even people I wasn’t aware who knew it was my birthday, stopped by to wish me a Happy Birthday and a great day.

But something was missing.

Perhaps it was because I went to work. Normally I schedule myself off from work for my birthday. Or perhaps because I’m officially over 40 now. But whatever the reason, there was definitely something missing.

And then a knock came at the door. My brother had dropped by to wish me a happy birthday and to give me a gift. It was a beautiful handbag. In fact it was one I would have chosen for myself, and I marveled at how well my brother knew me.

And then I realized what was missing.

Although I had no doubt that my brother and everyone else loved me, I knew they weren’t celebrating April the 14th.

They were celebrating me.

And the person who should have been celebrating me the most had not.

Me.

I had treated today as though it was any other day. I had made no allowances for me to celebrate me. And though some would call that selfishness, I would beg to differ.

No matter how many other people love you and show love towards you, you have to do the same for yourself. And birthdays in my estimation are not just any other day.

They are days to celebrate you and the fact that you are still here. Out of any gift we can be given, the gift of life is the greatest one yet. And speaking for myself, that’s a gift I owe my Creator.

So when I celebrate me on my birthday, I’m also celebrating Him who made me and allowed me another birthday.

I won’t forget that again.

Happy Birthday to me.

How do you love me…

I never wanted to be a teacher.

Growing up like most children, I thought I wanted to be a nurse or a doctor or even the man who rode around in the ice cream truck every day on my street. But a teacher?

Nope!

But now being a new Sunday school teacher within my church for our teens’ class, I have a new found respect for teachers everywhere.

Initially when I was asked to take this assignment, my mind automatically rejected the idea. The idea of sitting in a room full of teenage boys and girls for an hour trying to teach them about the bible held no appeal for me. Although I thoroughly enjoyed being a student in my adult Sunday school class, the thought of being a teacher never entered my mind.

But I soon discovered that being a teacher didn’t mean I stopped being a student. True, I was the “leader” so to speak of the class, and yes it was my responsibility to teach a revelant lesson each week. But teaching the lesson, put me in a better postion to be the one being taught.

And perhaps one of the greatest lessons my students taught me was about love.

Love moved me to answer the need my church had for a teen sunday school teacher. But just being moved by love wasn’t enough.

 I had to learn how to love them.   

They didn’t just need someone to bring them a cardboard lesson each week and try and hold their attention for an hour. They needed someone who would tailor lessons for them and make it applicable for their everyday living.

They needed someone who would nuture the individuals they were, while trying to mold and shape the one they would become.

They needed someone who would love them enough to lay aside being the “teacher” and sit and become a student of the Word with them.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning had it right when she wrote, “How do I love thee?”

To love someone isn’t the hard part. How to love them is.

Because it requires us to look beyond our needs and meet someone else’s. And when you think about it, if everyone tried to meet the needs of those they loved, at the end of the day, all of our needs would have been met.

And in the big scheme of all that really matters, we all have a need to be loved.

Loving one another meets the commandment we were given to love, but how we love each other gives a voice to the true testament of what that love is really about.

A New Season

Its been a long winter.

At least in the part of the country where I’m from. 

We’ve had one bizarre weather pattern after another. Whoever heard of tornadoes and heavy rains in the dead of winter? Usually our winters are cold and snow filled, so these things have kept winter interesting to say the least.

You’d think, we would learn to expect anything with our midwest winters. Especially since they’re known to be pretty unpredictable.

But no matter how you look at it this season, its been a long winter.

But this morning while reading something from one of my daily devotionals, I came across a statement that gave me cause for a pause.

(And if you’re not a fan of devotionals or have never read one, let me encourage you to start. There are even some great ones on-line.)

My devotional this morning reflected on different seasons and how each one was made for a specific time. It went on to say that God has purposely mastered a plan of cycles that allowed endings and beginnings to flow together under heaven’s gaze.

What that said to me was, life is filled with seasons. The ending of one means the beginning of another. They all serve a purpose and bring with it something the season before it could not have.

So whether its a season in your life or a season in nature, know that it came with a specific purpose in mind.

To add something to you that no one and nothing else could have done.

And more importantly, no season ever escapes the watchful eye of heaven’s gaze. Which means we are always in God’s view.

And I can’t think of a better place to be.

Somehow just knowing that made winter seem not so long after all.

Be encouraged while journeying thru your seasons as well!