When To Raise Your Own Hallelujah

I hear the song again, press repeat, let the words wash over me like a soft rain in early spring. I listen, pumping myself up with the music, press repeat once more. When a problem has been with you over an elongated period and no matter how hard you try, no matter how many scraped-kneed prayers you've offered up, all resources exhausted and the breath is labored and tired, preach it to yourself, don't give up, don't let that mountain steal your hope. Marinate in the mantra. Help is always on the way, it might look a little different, take an oddly pleasing shape, or smell like oceans of crazy, radical grace. That mountain will never ever have the last word. 

Memories of times when I thought certain mountains were unmovable, these snap shots float through my mind, a handful in black-and-white so long ago they were. Like watching the scenes at a Drive-in movie on that massive screen looming above the playground up front. God moved some powerful mountains and others He left me to make my shaky scared way to the top. And one I had truly hoped He would remove, it still remains. Either way, He keeps us company, this invisible friend, whispering gentle encouragement, don't ever give up, I'm here. I'm here.

Sometimes the view changes as you keep climbing. The terrain shifts under your feet, you stumble, cry a bit and pray again. Press repeat on the iPod. Grace says the tough climb will surprise you along the way with sweet respite, quiet knowing peace, friends who never stop praying. Maybe even a gentler gaze at the world, at yourself. A grateful exhale, a vibrant hope. And when you get back up and start that climb all over, cheer those who are trekking their own mountains, pray for them, practice radical love. Sing a little louder, drown out the bad guys with your own heart-affirming glory songs.

And those musical notes of praise, they float up into the air like delicate white butterflies, crisscrossing patterns of gratitude and joy, trailing all the way to heaven, then back to the top of the mountain. It's there at the top they gently land. And they wait until they are called upon again, from the depth of your innermost being. They will come back down, they will help you raise your own hallelujah, again, and again and again.

"God puts His ear so closely down to your lips that He can hear your faintest whisper. It is not God away off up yonder; it is God away down here, close up-so close up that when your pray to Him, it is more a whisper than a kiss." 

~Thomas De Witt Talmage~

All Is Calm All Is Bright

I reached for it, ready to take it down from the kitchen wall, my last piece of Christmas decor to pack away. I bought two of the same decorations at the Dollar Tree last year, one for my sister and one for me. My sister, she kept hers hanging all year long, even when the temperature outside rose absurdly hot. This year I purchased one for my daughter, a bit of a different look, but the message read the same. My hand lingered in that place that knows sometimes siblings can be pretty smart and don't we all need sticky-notes for the soul scattered around the house, in the garden, in the front seat of the car. Maybe I can tuck it away with the other decorations after 2020, or perhaps when the children in Yemen have enough food to eat every day, or after my grandchildren graduate college, debt free.

I thought back to church on Sunday, the day after Groundhog Day, where snowy white Christmas trees still adorned the stage. It's February! How about a huge red heart dangling from the ceiling? Or potted tulips to line the whole front? Those thoughts that day took me hostage, drove me right down a one-way street, on the wrong side, blindfolded. We sang and voices rose in unison, praise and joy taking center stage, the trees up front shrinking in importance. And I felt this tugging nudge from Jesus. I tried to ignore it at first, raising my voice a pitch louder, but gave up eventually, bent the knee, listened. Everything is OK. All is well. Aren't those Christmas trees just lovely? I think He understands me quite well.

The times are crazy and wild, the world is tilting upside down, hands are wringing with worry I see. But when I gaze at my decoration, I feel that light touch from Jesus all over again, peace and security wrap around me like a child's favorite blanket, the kind with the silk edges, threads coming loose from all that soothing fingering.

Perhaps I will go to the Dollar Tree today and see what they have for Valentine's Day. And if I find a perfect trinket, I will buy three. One for my sister, my daughter and me. And another one for the car.

If you have good thoughts they will shine out of your face like sunbeams and you will always look lovely.

~Ronald Dahl~