Winter Words

In March 2022 we experienced a magic I don’t know if we’ll ever experience again — we bought our first house, first garage, and first backyard. Pink tulips and daffodils sprung up first with friendship. Each outing and walk felt like we were unfolding out of winter into a new adventurous world of home. The ownership we felt of the streets and the downtown and the community is all tangled up with Easter flowers and rainy sunshine. We enjoyed patio parties and a garden that graciously exploded with beginner’s luck.

While I’m dreaming of sunshine, flower seeds, and iced coffee on a quilt in the lush grass — currently, there are splotches of muddy snow and cold winds.

Toward the end of each of the four seasons, I always feel the draw toward the next. Today I’d like to isolate winter and appreciate it, separate from Christmas, even separate from the stirring of spring. Perhaps only to nudge gratitude from my heart. There’s nothing wrong with anticipating the joys of the earth melting into new life, but putting winter into words causes me to give thanks for —-

The way the sun feels like a hug piercing through the car window on the interstate.

Soup and warm bread are always welcome, or a loaded baked potato, or hot blueberry muffins.

Glittery snow dust spraying down off the neighbor’s roof.

Snuggling up to read picture books like, “Owl Moon,””Katy and the Big Snow,” “The Loud Winter’s Nap,” and “The Coziest Place.”

De-icing the plane so we could escape to the sub-tropics of rainy Houston.

A weekend of solid preaching, encouraging believers, worship, and Texas brisket.

Blazing through books, and feeling like there’s not a better place to be than absorbed in a story or reflecting on a truth.

Enjoying seeing the English countryside in All Creatures Great and Small, admiring how Helen is a faithful and creative helpmeet.

This Little Women soundtrack, heavy with triumph, emotion, and girlhood delight.

The last jar of canned salsa, straining to make it to the ground’s thawing when we’ll garden again.

Discussing the account of Ruth’s redemption by the fireside.

The warmth of togetherness and the flame of hunger for God’s Word.

The Refiner’s Fire.

A chunky-knit throw blanket.

Shopping my own house for new home looks, but also leaving and loving white space.

Hopes of a ski day if the snow sticks.

My son scattering a zoo’s worth of animals throughout the house, and often we sit on cows, horses and giraffes hiding in the couch.

Attempting to follow the mantra, “there’s no such thing as bad weather, just improper clothing” but staying inside a great majority of the time anyway.

An overcast sky ending in array of brilliant colors.

Taking advantage of the things that can only be done inside…like scrubbing the shower or baking.

The way new goals and habits are tested in the trenches of the January doldrums.

Utilizing my mom’s craft table, creating sparkly hearted Valentines, stirrings of bold pink, chocolate strawberries, and family love in our near future.

Waiting for answers, and knowing Either Way, We’ll be Alright.

Treasuring the most lovely gifts, our faith and our family, neither of which I deserve.

The way winter freezes time, slowly thaws it out, offering day after day to rejoice in.

What would you add about your winter?

How Beautiful is Church Camp

Our church camp almost didn’t happen this year … because it’s getting difficult to reserve entire campgrounds in our state.

Thankfully, camp still occurred in all its glory, even if we were prevented from certain traditions. First, there were no water sports due to some kind of weird algae bloom that could make you sick and allegedly made a dog die from drinking it. So we had to miss the usual staples of camp life like boating, swimming, tubing. Second, the state issued a fire ban so no open campfires allowed. Third, we set up camp in a new-to-us place. We had finally outgrown our beloved Huckleberry Campground where I personally have enjoyed each of my church camps for the last 10 years in a row.

However, the core of everything I love about this annual camping trip stayed true despite missing iconic water sports, campfire, and Huckleberry. It’s like that one time when someone stole the church trailer with the piano, cushions, chairs, pulpit, and sound equipment. We were still a church. Or when we had to watch the sermon virtually since our building was closed up because of covid. Still the Bride of Christ. So of course, a simple location change wouldn’t stop us from packing up our cars and coolers with bright attitudes to be together!

And it was a wonderful weekend.

I grow more impressed with the immeasurable means of grace in that God gifted us each other. Without a church family, a person could literally have no one to trust, no one to turn to. But I have layers and layers of saints who have proved they would drop everything if I needed anything. There are local churches all over the world who would pick up where one left off in ministering to a sheep like me. It’s overwhelming and humbling.

My top three highlights of camp this year were 1) sharing the tangible joys with my little family, 2) the baptisms, and 3) the spiritual gifts in action.

It was such an honor to introduce a small flannel-clad boy to a weekend of outdoor fellowship. Judah approved of it, and heartily participated in everything he could, which was mostly just making people’s days with his bear hugs.

Pine trees infused the air with the fresh woodsiness. Corn hole brought out our competition. The claps of dramatic thunder begged the question, “How did YOU sleep last night?” Without our Sunday best, but a sunburn instead, observing each other’s realness and coffee habits is easy. We talked about goldfish, about weddings, about the gospel and about this new corner of the lake. We were relaxed and had nowhere to be except dinner and worship.

Now, the baptisms. How good is God to give us a tangible picture of a new spiritual life? To see an outward representation of Christ’s rescue from sin?

It’s inevitable that I’ll cry. As someone in my family coined it, “Life and death will make me cry.” About ten testimonies ranged from someone saved by grace out of a generationally godly family to first generation Christians, to trusting at a young age to tasting what the world has to offer first — all a clear picture of sinful hearts washed with the blood of Christ. We all rejoiced deeply in each public announcement of faith in the Savior. What struck me listening to the testimonies was the inclusion of fervent prayers for these ones gone astray, and the evidence of plenty of seed planting by an older brother here, a sister there, a pastor, a friend, an acquaintance. God chooses to use us in Gospel work, as seen in the many familiar names brought up in the testimonies, but He brings the increase.

Finally, I enjoyed the extra goodness of the Lord to grant us spiritual gifts and hearts that long to serve one another. Not only did He save us from hell, make us His cherished bride, but He also equipped us uniquely so we could bless each other and thus bring glory to Him.

At camp I noticed we were served by someone sharing their special green avocado creamy sauce for taco night. A young man with a ton of energy willing to bring up the tube from the bottom of the slip n’ slide hill over and over. Hands that played guitar chords, emptied trash, held babies, acted as the hospitable camp hosts, provided a listening ear and mercy. On Sunday we were taught from the Word.

Those gifts in action are all for His glory wafting up like the campfire smoke we didn’t have because, remember–fire ban.

God didn’t have to give us each other to help in suffering or to laugh about slip n’ slide wipeouts. To serve each other hamburgers with caramelized onions, to share truth with, to worship Him on a wooded mountainside or in the suburbs back at home base. Isn’t His Body beautiful?

I can hear it. “But there isn’t a perfect church! She’s clearly wearing rose-colored glasses.”

It’s true. There is no perfect church. Of course, I have a little loyal partiality toward my family, but I still work to give grace for the failures I see and even for the ones I can’t see. Because there is masterpiece work going on. A bride is getting prepared for the marriage of the Lamb.

And gratefully, there aren’t any rose-colored glasses needed to appreciate God’s beautiful goodness in giving us the broken and beautiful Body of Christ. His plan is good. Even in hard, ugly times we can acknowledge His design is lovely, and He’s building His church, even though that won’t make the headlines. Whatever imperfections are now, we look toward the day of endless, perfect, better-than-church-camp worship. Even the righteous acts of the saints at camp are helping clothe us for that day.

“Let’s rejoice and be glad and give the glory to Him, because the marriage of the Lamb has come,

and His bride has prepared herself.

 It was given to her to clothe herself in fine linen, bright and clean;

for the fine linen is the righteous acts of the saints.

Then he said to me, “Write: ‘Blessed are those who are invited to the wedding feast of the Lamb.’”

And he said to me, “These are the true words of God.”

Revelation 19:7-9

View from Below

I enjoy heights. Even though I’m no hardcore hiker, I love a good vantage point. I first learned this when I helped my dad tear off old shingles on our three-story house.

There is something indescribable about an elevated view which lets you collect a tiny swath of a larger perspective.

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Vacation In Kansas?

Plunging into a gold mine and scaling Pikes Peak — were just two of the adventures at our family reunion in Colorado two years ago. My uncle booked the same camp for our 2020 reunion because we loved the area so much.

But I only had to read a handful of missionary prayer letters to know 2020 plans were seismically shifting to the ends of the earth. So it wasn’t a huge shock when our camp location had to change last minute.

The reunion was moved to … “no place like home” … Kansas.

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We Need Rainy Times

Here in the high desert where I live, it only rains about 12 inches a year. The days heat up fast and the nights cool down quickly. Since a real downpour is rare, they always remind me of my adventures with rain.

Rainclouds can make a gloomy Eeyore or the perfect background for art and lattes, depending on the circumstances. We could fill books with our rain stories…how they’ve spoiled picnics or made a rainbow at just the right moment.

I thought I’d share mine since it’s been raining all week. Wouldn’t trade these stories. I love sunny days, but I think we need the rainy days, too. There is an Arab proverb, “All sunshine makes a desert.”

Here are my first, worst, next and best times it rained.

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