A New Way to Live

A few months ago, I found the words of this hymn echoing through my heart day after day:

Fill thou my life, O Lord, my God

In every part with praise,

That my whole being may proclaim

Thy being and Thy ways;

Not for the lip of praise alone,

Nor e'en the praising heart

I ask, but for a life made up

Of praise in every part.

Praise in the common words I speak,

Life's common looks and tones,

In fellowship at hearth or board

With my beloved ones, -

Enduring wrong, reproach or loss

With sweet and steadfast will,

Loving and blessing those who hate,

Returning good for ill.

So shall each fear, each fret, each care,

Be turned into song,

And every winding of the way

The echo shall prolong;

So shall no part of day or night

From sacredness be free,

But all my life, in every step,

Be fellowship with Thee.

~ Horatius Bonar

While I washed dishes, while I drove to prenatals, while I waited for my flat tire to get fixed, while I was grocery shopping, while I was juicing fresh veggies for Mom, when the house was 100 degrees inside, while I was running, while I was cooking breakfast, while scrubbing out dirty produce buckets, as I drove away from births, those lines

I ask, but for a life made up

Of praise in every part.

clanged loudly, jarring me from the irritating, the tiring, the annoying, the mundane, even the wonderful that I reveled in. Praise in this.

Praise for all of the things that happened today that weren't supposed to. Praise in the midst of missing important deadlines because my brother was having problems and I had to occupy him. Praise while Mom feeling sick. {Wouldn't she rather hear me happily singing at the sink, anyway?}

Praise instead of sighing to myself when the floor was sticky and the oven wasn't working and my car was needing another repair.

Praise.

Praise.

Praise.

That could be my life. My life doesn't have to include silent sighs and groans to myself.

Praise. That can be my whole life. EVERY part.

It starts with calling someone to tell them that I will have to reschedule this afternoon's prenatal. {How unprofessional! a murmur rises up in me. I was late to their last appointment after having to borrow a car at the last minute. And now this! Undecided whether I should explain what's happening at my house and with my family, or leave them wondering if I'm unreliable, I hesitate. Then, one little word comes to mind: Praise. Praise in the common words I speak. That's your new way to live.}

A smile crosses my face. Yes, in this, too.

What good is praise if it's only during the times when anyone's heart would sing for joy?

Not just praise on my lips, or even just praise in my heart.

A LIFE made up of praise in every part.

I've met a few people whose whole life appears to be a praise song to their Maker.

They just live different than the rest of us fretting, whining people.

My Jesus deserves that from my life.

My rest-of-2011-resolution? To sing this song pretty much every day, and to live it every day.

That's why I leave the book open to hymn #42 in the kitchen window nearly every day.

Will you join me? :)

Thankful....

Tonight I'm thankful for

So very many dishes to wash

16 little children, mostly under the age of 8, at our house for the day

All the cheerios, pineapple, peanut butter sandwiches, yogurt smoothies, chicken nuggets, mulberries, strawberries, and cherries they ate all day long, leaving crumbs all over the floor and juice dribbling down their chins and arms

Sweaty, dirty little 2 year old arms encircling my neck and squeezing me tight when I'm already hot and sweaty and don't want anybody to touch me

A dad who says "I love you" every time he calls me or sees me leaving for the day.

A mom who says, "Let's stop and pray about this right now" every time a conversation involves someone else's problems.

A sister who does hard things without complaint

A teenage brother who isn't afraid of long, long hot sweaty days of work

Dinner with my family and friends all around the table.

Cold water gushing out of garden hoses as I plant tomatoes

Piles of clean sheets and laundry, preparing for the next friends' arrival

Quiet nights all by myself with chances to hear myself think after everyone's gone to sleep

Summer breezes drifting in the open windows when I awake

Being mostly off-call.

Everyday Gratitude

Laurel's got me started!

I'm grateful for so many things.

But on this chilly, rainy night I'm grateful for brothers washing dishes...

for piping hot banana bread made by little sisters...

for little children running through the dark, rainy night howling with delight...

for little girls who do not have a mother but come to visit and sleep in my bed...

for the dryer humming nearby...

for a starry-eyed sister on the phone with her Love....

for finding a 20 week baby's heartbeat, when I feared it gone today....

for the friends who are interceding across the country for a situation that
only God can save and fix...

for the sweet card in the mail...

for my mother's gentleness and forgiveness...

for fellow midwives who are too busy to help, but hug me and tell me they understand....

for HOPE... that God is good, no matter what He does with my life.

Deliberate Gratitude

I had hoped for a chance to write a post of my own for Thanksgiving Day.
After all, I have more than is imaginable to be thankful for today.
And I am grateful, so grateful for what God has given me and for what
He has chosen not to give me.

But after cooking and feasting and visiting with company and washing the dishes several times over, I guess my post will have to wait for another day to be written.

In the mean time, though, Ann Voskamp has once again so eloquently reminded us of the need to deliberately pour the oil of joy and gratitude out in our lives:
Always Enough for Joy

Gratitude

The greatest sufferer that lives in this world of redeeming love, and has the offer of heaven before him, has cause of gratitude.
-- Albert Barnes

Giving Thanks on Thanksgiving Day

You're probably all tired of hearing about me being sick, but I learned a lot of lessons during the two weeks I had nothing to do but stay in my bedroom and think. : )
I'll quit talking about it after this post!

When our family came down sick with a nasty flu virus in early November, I was about the fourth person to get sick. For most of the family, it lasted about one week - a fever of 103-104 and a headache and congestion, and a cough that hung on for more than a week. One by one, the others got well, and some of the others got sick and got well again.

Except for me.
I, who often manage to avoid getting the colds going around, just stayed sick. I got sick on Monday, and had lots of appointments scheduled throughout the week. I rescheduled most things for the weekend, assuming I'd be well enough to drag myself wherever I needed to go by Friday and Saturday. When the weekend came and I was still as sick as ever, I was still upbeat. I'd be well next week. So, I rescheduled my appointments for Tuesday.
I managed to count my blessings. I was glad this wasn't a stomach flu, and I thought of all the things that could be wrong with me, but weren't.

Tuesday came. My fever was still 103 and I felt no better. I rescheduled my appointments again and did all I could to get well for our Thanksgiving company, Abe and Ellie, and their kids who were supposed to be arriving the next day (Wednesday). I was sure I'd be out of bed by Thanksgiving Day. I couldn't help but be well by then. My other siblings were all bouncing around, cleaning and cooking and preparing for company.

Thanksgiving Day arrived... with my fever, aches, and cough. I managed to drag myself down and flop into the recliner and eat a few bites of turkey dinner. Everyone else was chattering happily and sampling pies when I miserably stumbled back up the stairs to bed. My headache had returned with a vengeance and I felt nauseous now, too. I wondered if it was because this was the first real food I had eaten in over a week.

Whatever the case, as the afternoon wore on and the laughter and gaiety floated up the stairs, all kinds of cross, miserable thoughts flitted across my stale, muddled brain. Why couldn't I just get well?? In my feverish misery I asked myself, When will this end? Maybe I never will get well... Maybe I'll just reschedule things week after week, ever following the illusion that someday I will be well....

Of course, in the back of my mind, I knew those thoughts weren't true, but it felt good to finally just give in to self-pity.

Then the words of the CD playing in the hall caught my attention -

Whither shall I go from Thy spirit?
Or whither shall I flee from Thy presence?
If I ascend up into heaven, Thou art there: if I make my bed
in hell, behold, Thou art there.
If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea;
Even there shall Thy hand lead me,
and thy right hand shall hold me. (Ps. 139)

God's hand is leading me here?
God is here with me?
Doesn't he want me there - being well again, serving Him?

No. God's hand has led me here.

I may not like it, but I can take His hand, and walk forward here,
not waiting to follow till I'm there - well again.

As I chose to focus on the Truth, I found myself praying for several friends of ours whose situations made mine seem really trivial and silly. And by the time I finished interceding on their behalf, I had a new attitude - one of deep gratitude!

Giving Thanks on Thanksgiving Day

You're probably all tired of hearing about me being sick, but I learned a lot of lessons during the two weeks I had nothing to do but stay in my bedroom and think. : )
I'll quit talking about it after this post!

When our family came down sick with a nasty flu virus in early November, I was about the fourth person to get sick. For most of the family, it lasted about one week - a fever of 103-104 and a headache and congestion, and a cough that hung on for more than a week. One by one, the others got well, and some of the others got sick and got well again.

Except for me.
I, who often manage to avoid getting the colds going around, just stayed sick. I got sick on Monday, and had lots of appointments scheduled throughout the week. I rescheduled most things for the weekend, assuming I'd be well enough to drag myself wherever I needed to go by Friday and Saturday. When the weekend came and I was still as sick as ever, I was still upbeat. I'd be well next week. So, I rescheduled my appointments for Tuesday.
I managed to count my blessings. I was glad this wasn't a stomach flu, and I thought of all the things that could be wrong with me, but weren't.

Tuesday came. My fever was still 103 and I felt no better. I rescheduled my appointments again and did all I could to get well for our Thanksgiving company, Abe and Ellie, and their kids who were supposed to be arriving the next day (Wednesday). I was sure I'd be out of bed by Thanksgiving Day. I couldn't help but be well by then. My other siblings were all bouncing around, cleaning and cooking and preparing for company.

Thanksgiving Day arrived... with my fever, aches, and cough. I managed to drag myself down and flop into the recliner and eat a few bites of turkey dinner. Everyone else was chattering happily and sampling pies when I miserably stumbled back up the stairs to bed. My headache had returned with a vengeance and I felt nauseous now, too. I wondered if it was because this was the first real food I had eaten in over a week.

Whatever the case, as the afternoon wore on and the laughter and gaiety floated up the stairs, all kinds of cross, miserable thoughts flitted across my stale, muddled brain. Why couldn't I just get well?? In my feverish misery I asked myself, When will this end? Maybe I never will get well... Maybe I'll just reschedule things week after week, ever following the illusion that someday I will be well....

Of course, in the back of my mind, I knew those thoughts weren't true, but it felt good to finally just give in to self-pity.
















Then the words of the CD playing in the hall caught my attention -

Whither shall I go from Thy spirit?
Or whither shall I flee from Thy presence?
If I ascend up into heaven, Thou art there: if I make my bed
in hell, behold, Thou art there.
If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea;
Even there shall Thy hand lead me,
and thy right hand shall hold me. (Ps. 139)

God's hand is leading me here?
God is here with me?
Doesn't he want me there - being well again, serving Him?

No. God's hand has led me here.

I may not like it, but I can take His hand, and walk forward here,
not waiting to follow till I'm there - well again.

As I chose to focus on the Truth, I found myself praying for several friends of ours whose situations made mine seem really trivial and silly. And by the time I finished interceding on their behalf, I had a new attitude - one of deep gratitude!