Perhaps Love Is . . . !

 Some Thoughts On Love 

My mother used to tell the story of my toddler days and nap times. 

I’d  never awaken crying but lie or sit contentedly singing until she came to get me. One song, popular to her generation in the 40s, poured out of my young lungs.

“I don’t know why I love you like I do. . . I don’t know why, I just do.”

Through my mother’s influence, all kinds of music became an important part of my growing up years. When my brothers and I reached our teen years and beyond, she flowed with interest into the music we loved. 

Music. Such a key love in my life.

In my late 20s, I learned to play the guitar and loved having its ready access for use in my classroom. I passed along many notes from my songbook to my students. Among them were songs made popular by John Denver.

He knew his way with many a song that mirrored the human condition. He promoted the need to honor God’s creation. How far we have roamed from the original Garden and all it contained for us in relating to God and the blooms of his pure Love. In our original Home, love was a known.

“Perhaps Love”  ranks high on my list of John Denver’s songs. 

To listen to its lyrics one gets the impression that 

he was confused about love. Well, aren’t we all? 

I am led to another John, the Apostle who walked with Christ and wrote Gospel accounts of that time. In John 17, we read a communion of words that Christ offers to his Father. 

In the chapter’s context it is placed prior to the day leading to Christ’s Crucifixion, the completion of his earthly mission, and his return Home. He prays from his heart of love on our behalf. 

I compiled a duet between the words of the two men named, John, and within lie some answers about love.  

Introduction 

“In the beginning the Word already existed. The Word was with God, and the Word was God. He existed in the beginning with God. God created everything through him, and nothing was created except through him. The Word gave life to everything that was created, and his life brought light to everyone” (John 1: 1-4 NLT).

The Duet

Perhaps love is like a resting place, a shelter from the storm.

It exists to give you comfort; it is there to keep you warm.

And in those times of trouble when you are most alone, the 

memory of love will bring you home.

“Father, I want these whom you have given me to be with me where I am. Then they can see all the glory you gave me because you loved me even before the world began” (John 17: 24 NLT).

Perhaps love is like a window, perhaps an open door.

It invites you to come closer, it wants to show you more

And even if you lose yourself and don't know what to do.

The memory of love will see you thru.

“O righteous Father, the world doesn’t know you, but I do; and these disciples know you sent me. I have revealed you to them, and I will continue to do so. Then your love for me will be in them, and I will be in them” (verses 25-26 ).

O love to some is like a cloud; to some as strong as steel.

For some a way of living, for some a way to feel.

And some say love is holding on and some say letting go

And some say love is everything;some say they don't know

“I have given them the glory you gave me, so they may be one as we are one. I am in them and you are in me. May they experience such perfect unity that the world will know that you sent me and that you love them as much as you love me” ( verses 22-23).

Perhaps love is like the oceanfull of conflict full of change; 

Like a fire when it is  cold outside, a thunder when it rains,

If I should live forever and all my dreams come true,

my memories of love will be of you.

"Make them holy by your truth; teach them your word, which is truth. Just as you sent me into the world, I am sending them into the world. And I give myself as a holy sacrifice for them so they can be made holy by your truth” ( verses 17-19).

If I should live forever and all my dreams come true,

my memories of love will be of you.

Bridge

And what of that toddler in her crib, singing, 

“I don’t know why I love you like I do. . . 

I don’t know why, I just do”? 

That song remains deep in my heart of memories and 

was pulled out a bit over a decade ago.

 I sat on the bed in a hospice room where my Mom lie in a deep sleep - a nap of a kind -  one from which she would awaken and know the perfection of Love, choruses of love promised because of the Love the Father sent, not a “perhaps love”.  

I sang to her. 

I sang my toddler song but I was able to add on “the whys”. During this rendition of the song, both tears and words fell out of my heart. 

Perhaps love is simply that -- all the pieces in our hearts that cannot be contained but need to flow out and become known. 

It  is the “why of God “ poured into us, his defining of us, his gift to us of himself to extravagantly lavish on those we meet. In following His lead, we come to understand many of the whys and the ways that love becomes real.

If I should live forever and all my dreams come true,

my memories of love will be of you.

“This is my commandment: Love each other in the same way I have loved you. There is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends”

 (John 15: 12-13 NLT).

Listen to John Denver’s song! 

Silver Lining Heart

Mixed Media

by my friend, Mary Peterson

Serendipity Moments - A Giving Sampler

A Giving Sampler

When I posted my first Serendipity Moments, I was going through a box marked: “Lynn’s Writings and Art Designs”. Today I am sharing another item found during that time. 

I simply loved creating it and it was joyous to watch God guide me in the process!

First, here is the background.

The end of January, 1993, the  women’s ministry at the church I attended was to have a weekend retreat. I had been retired for 6 months from teaching. I no longer had the outlet for creating all those bulletin boards and other joy-filled items for my elementary aged students! I longed to stay active in these artistic ways.

I offered to make the gifts given at junctures during the upcoming two day retreat - favors at tables and “something” after each of the talks. 

The challenge was that the woman heading the retreat had no real direction from the Lord what the retreat theme would be as these preparations had to be begun. Her only nudging was that it would be on  Forgiveness. 

Others had offered to speak and we all went on faith and the Holy Spirit’s guidance and later watched it all flow together perfectly - as if we had conferred with each other! 

The Gift of Forgiveness is in the Giving

As I contemplated forgiveness, I wanted to zoom in on the outcome of forgiveness .  I loved doing counted-cross stitch so a "paper sampler" seemed a given to prepare as one of the gifts. 

All creating was done with paper, pens, rulers, scissors, and an electric typewriter. Next  came Kinko’s for copying onto very pale gray toned card stock paper ( that color not evident in how my camera caught the images below) and then individually pinking the edges of the  5”x7” paper copies, coloring, punching holes, and tying each sampler with a pink ribbon ( x 50, the number of women who were to attend our retreat - maybe it was 100?? - there were LOTS of copies that had to be made!)

When the need for forgiveness comes into my life, it becomes a heart issue and a spiritual issue. My heart is affected and my emotions can go all kinds of ways. The place I need to run is to God’s heart - the One whose heart suffered taking on all my sins with his death and suffering on the Cross - so that I am forgiven and, with Him, I am able to forgive another. 

Hearts. The Cross. 

Those are the core needs.  But first, surrounding that freedom I seek, are hearts and crosses askew ( the outer border of the sampler ). A pure heart is one blob of a circle. The cross it more an X - a cross not quite set straight. This is where I dwell while I live in un-forgiveness. 

Seek and Find

The Scriptures I chose to center within the sampler are ones that speak to what I have been given because of God’s forgiving grace.They are within the inner border where his heart and my heart are flowing together. They are reminders of where I want to try and keep living - and where I want to return when I realize that forgiveness is once more a need in my life.



The back of the sampler is one for acknowledgements to those who made our women’s retreat all that it came to be. 

However, I chose to change the outer border from the front of the sampler, to words that are the transforming gifts Christ’s work on the Cross completed so that, as I am forgiven, I can team with Him in offering grace to others.

Heartened.
Faith-Filled.
Released.
Surrendered.
Healed.
Graced.
Redeemed.
Covenanted.
Unburdened.
Forgiven.
Ransomed.
Humbled.   Compassioned.   Tender-Hearted.  Saviored.  Reconciled.   Transformed.   Loved.

Fan Mail for Father Abraham

Faithful Mentors

There are many who have made this journey in life before us and encountered the same emotions, if not always the same experiences each of us has encountered. 

Hebrews 11’s  “Hall of Faith” records those worthy of mention from the Old Testament for their lives can encourage us in ours. Was each of them perfect in the ways they served the Lord? No. But each of them was faithful in learning how to serve Him better - which makes them credible mentors.

Abel. Enoch. Noah. Abraham. Sarah. Issac. Jacob. Joseph. Moses. Joshua. 

Rahab. Gideon. Barak, Samson. Jephthah. David. Samuel.

These are the ones called by name though others are alluded to in the context of what is recorded. 

In reacting to these faithful ones’ stories, I relate most to Abraham: a man who spent time in the wilderness, who believed in God’s promises with no tangible evidence except that God had promised, was willing to go into foreign lands not knowing what he would encounter, and was willing to surrender what God asked of him: dreams, family, even a beloved son.

Because of the encouragement that Abraham’s life gives to me, I decided to write him a letter.

Dear Abe,

It is the year, 2014 A.D...many millenniums past the days you were here on earth and leading your life with faithfulness and trust in God. 

So much has happened since then and among the best of things is that we now have God’s Word written down. Yes, there are still many wonderings and wanderings but a lot is set down in words - no guessing and lots of accountability is spelled out for certain. And you and much of what you experienced in your life is right in that book. It is how I have come to know and admire you. I decided to write you a letter and tell you why.

Well, maybe I should explain the new name I’ve given to you. 

One custom in my day is that folks who are good friends often give each other what is called, “nicknames”. They are often shorter versions of a longer name or a chosen name of endearment. 

Since you are acquainted with having your name changed, 

I did not think you would mind my boldness in giving you this one. 

I think we are kindred souls. That  might just help you smile as you wander up there in the heavens enjoying your eternal reward and understanding more fully all of the trials you faced here on earth.

 One of the things I admire about you, Abe, is that you were called a friend of God. 

God, Himself, told you that! 

 He spoke to you and you listened. Those of us who follow Him all these years later are also called his friends. But I think you were the first to hear Him say that word, “freind”, right to you as He called you into a personal relationship.

I am so grateful that He blessed you and called you righteous just because you believed in Him. You trusted Him, learned to hear His voice, and were willing to follow His guidance as best you could. 

I also love that you did not always get it right. I don’t either. 

But you persevered and walked into many foreign lands not knowing what awaited  you and your family but just because God said to go.  He knew His plan. He trusted you.

 I, too, have wandered through many mysterious times and lands. I  have also learned that God’s grace is present to sustain me and that his actual presence strengthens, as well.

I can view your life looking back upon it. You had to live your life moving forward and, as you know, it was not so clear to see the outcome. 

I know that you sacrificed your son, Ishmael, by sending him away. God brought good out of that and an Arab nation was formed.

I know that you were willing to sacrifice the son of your heart, Isaac, but God intervened, honored your obedience, and spared Isaac. All those descendants He promised you. . . the ones that would number more than the stars He showed you in the sky. . . well, we are here. Jews, Christians, and those descended from Ishmael and all members of these faiths grow day by day. 

I am one of your spiritual descendants. 

So, Abe, fits just fine as far as I am concerned! 

Many, many years after you lived, God Himself sacrificed His only  Son. . . only this was a completed sacrifice and we, His followers, are  now called righteous because of that sacrifice.

That does not make my journey any easier than yours, but both of us have the experience of God’s Presence helping us to listen and learn. 

You have been a good mentor. 

 Thank you for helping me remember the value of believing in God’s promises, of trusting Him, of waiting even when my eyes cannot see and my heart aches for what seems impossible.

Well, Abe, I can be a gabby one when writing to a friend. It is best I get this flung up to the stars so you can read it. You may still be counting them just to try and prove you can number them! 

But I want to end with a little piece of  writing done by another one of God’s friends. I think that he must have also been a kindred soul of yours. He expresses so well more of what I have learned by reading about you. Here is what he said:

“It is your future,

Don’t back into it.

Don’t grope into its mists blindfolded.

Put the hand of your faith into the Hand of God.

Get used to His voice.

He warns you of dangers and strangers.

He leads you to experience His prepared future.

He does not disappoint.

There is always more for those who walk with Him.

He straightens question marks into exclamation points.”*

Okay, Abe, watch those stars. 

Here  comes a letter from one of your fans! 

Find Us Faithful

music/lyrics: Jon Mohr, recorded by: Steve Green

Watercolor Sketch by Dave Peterson

*To the best of my remembrance, the quote I cited can be attributed to Chuck Swindoll. It is on a scrap of paper from a church bulletin I cut out 25+ years ago and keep in my bible ( and heart ).

revised from an earlier posting (5/12)

Serendipity Moments

I think there will be many moments in days ahead when I happen upon something or have some experience that I will record on my blog. They are often called, "serendipity" times - seeming to happen by chance but bringing delight. 

If looked at closely - they may hold more for me to see! 

I am going through some boxes of treasures set aside. You know those kinds of boxes. They are “sort of” organized but ( in my case), they are more by topics with hopes to fine tune later.

The box I took out tonight is marked:

 Lynn’s Writings and Art Designs.

One of the treasures is a letter I wrote and my mother sent to my grandmother “from me” when I was in Kindergarten. 

Apparently, I had quite a sense of style back then. 

Apparently I had a lot to say but not the skills yet 
to create many words.

 I was wanting  to tell my grandmother all about my birthday. 

How wonderful that my mother kept this among her belongings and later passed it along to me or I’d not have it to bring these moments of delight looking back at the beginnings of who I have become.

Also in this box were some words I penned approximately 53 years later in 2001, some months after my mother’s death. I was at a writers’ critique group and we were given an exercise to do. 

Here is what came forth - poured out from a heart in grief but not unlike the Kindergarten younger Lynn who had a lot to say and had to express it in some fashion.

This exercise is to incorporate all of the following words into an article, short story, poem or whatever comes to mind. You must use all of the words ( in any order) to complete the exercise but the context in which they are used is up to you.Think about the words for a few minutes before you start to write and see what pictures come to mind - then see if you can weave them all together into a piece of writing. You have ten minutes.

Powerful. Deep. Change. Spring. Glass. 

Star. Brush. Special. Shaking. Poor

My legs were shaking as I crumpled into the seemingly deep spring grass. It was evening and the deep feelings inside my grief-filled soul were powerful - such a change from a year ago at this time. My spirit seemed poor, robbed of the presence of my Mother with whom my whole life had been shared. Life seemed to be lived and seen as through an opaque glass. . . not quite the clarity I am used to. 

Lifting my eyes to the darkened sky, a brush stroke of stars washed their way across the night and with the twinkling of the view. . . a special stirring flickered within. Perhaps my Mom’s presence, still within me, could be seen 

as the memories in each star light, 
as the twinkle that once lit her eyes,
 in the life her artist’s paint still wanted 
to brush into the life I am yet to live.

Birthday Reflections - Arriving at Age 70!

Birthday Reflections - Arriving at Age 70!

There is a lot that could be posted when reflecting over 70 years. I have chosen a couple of entries for my blog today. 

The first is a devotional that I wrote on my birthday in 2009. It was posted on the Rest Ministries site the following month. It has been revised since then and is part of my manuscript, 

Seeking the Light of God’s Comforter, When Challenges Dim Our View. 

Looking at the Glass, Lightly

Now we see 

but a poor reflection as in a mirror; 

then we shall see face to face. 

Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, 

even as I am fully known (1 Corinthians 13:12).

As I write, it is my birthday. I'm so grateful for the gift of life. Seven decades ago doctors pronounced I would not survive the delivery room. Today, happier words greet me. A former first grade student writes, "Miss Severance, thanks for learning me good.” Grammatical joy aimed at me! What’s not to love about such a greeting from one, among many, who graced my life for the years of my teaching career? 

Have I learned good, Lord? You have blessed my days in many ways. I am filled with gratitude. There have been tremendous challenges too, beginning with my fight to live beyond the delivery room. At that time you instilled within me a passion to choose life. I have not liked the trials that have surfaced during these years, but I appreciate the ways you help me through them. If I realistically look at this side of the glass, parts are smudged and splintered from the challenges that came unexpectedly and choices that have comprised my life.

I see these imprints because your light shines and shows them to me. I acknowledge and view the many generous beautiful moments as well. I recognize both. I choose to dwell in the buoyancy of your light that lifts me above a world that can clamor, wanting to pull me down. Someday I will understand the reasons for life’s events during these past decades. I am in no rush. Delivery into my eternal Home will come and all things will be made clear.

It could be that any whys that exist now will be unimportant then. I will abide in knowing and not in any asking. The learning good part is my trusting you and looking at the glass of my life lightly. I want to seek your wholeness in all of it -  even in what looks and is broken. In the midst of all of it, I am still a reflection of you. I want nothing to dim that view. 

Prayer

Lord, every day I see glimpses of beauty amidst the more marred parts of your created world. Help me to recognize your touch in all of my life events, especially the ones that are hard to understand. Knowing that you understand and walk with me consistently, brings grateful comfort. 

Thank you for the gift of LIfe! 

What follows, for this birthday day of reflections, is a selection from a manuscript which is my current focus. These excerpts come at the end of a chapter titled:

    

Cell Power . . . Can You Hear the Call?

The chapter centers on the miracle of birth, our beginnings from one single cell, and the single place and purpose God has in his heart for each of us.

It is one of the book's foundational chapters. They are designed to bring understanding of the choice for reconciliation to God, the acceptance of His guidance, and the grace to walk with Him well during this life's journey.

from 

Sole-Sisters: Walking the Same Road, Wearing Different Shoes

It is June 24, 1943. My mother is six months pregnant. For three days labor has escalated and then eased, a virtual see-saw. She is exhausted. The doctors can determine no reason to take intervening actions. Only God knows at this time that she is carrying twins! (Remember, this was years before ultra sounds and the means we now have for neonatal intervention and care.)

My twin brother is content in the womb, snuggled in for the nine month duration. I am bleeding internally, fighting for my life, flailing wildly. Talk about foot motion! A difficult delivery finally ensues. My brother greets the outside world four minutes before I do. The doctors feel confident he will live but hold out little hope for me. Three complete blood transfusions are required before I am taken from the delivery room; a fourth one follows later. We both are placed in incubators.

At 3lbs.12 oz, my tiny being is called upon to rest in isolation except for the caring nurses and doctors who watch and wait, doing all that they are trained to know and to do. Loved ones pray. Our mother brings in her breast milk to help nourish us but never sees us until we are released to her care two months later. 

Some years ago, I pondered what that time must have been like for me. In my mind’s eye, the Lord let me see my tiny self, lying still within the warmth of the incubator. I was lying still, content, letting him work to complete the growth and healing process that he had begun. Why and how could I be lying so still - one who had fought so violently only hours, weeks, months before? 

As the picture in my mind widened, I saw his hand, huge and steady covering the incubator, covering me. The Scripture that came to me was, 

“Be still and know that I am God” (Psalm 46: 10a). 

Even those days had been recorded just for me. Though invisible to all eyes but his  - my tiny feet wore booties fashioned of acceptance, patience, and perseverance.

Forty-four years later, almost to the date, I lie emotionally paralyzed in a hospital bed following surgery. The immobility comes from hearing the word, “cancer”, and then, “we won’t know for three to four days if the cancer has spread or what to determine about a prognosis.”

What is this weight that stuns my entire being into seeming motionlessness? Can I breathe with this pressure that is so foreign?  Some family members are present, welcome but blurred. They are somewhere out beyond the weight that I lie beneath in isolation. 

My breast has been removed. In spite of the tightly bound banded wrap encompassing my chest, the heaviness makes even that reality remote. Though medicated, sleep eludes me for twenty-four hours.  I merely exist in a reality.

God’s presence? Steady. Yes, he is here. Stunned, I cannot move beyond his presence being more than a belief. My first break through the weighty wall comes in tears, a tangible expression of a feeling.Then, the smallest of flickers draws me inward to my spirit.

journal entry for  August 8, 1987

“. . . and I got quiet and deeply alone with You, crying out in despair and knowing You were my only source of hope and insight - wanting to release myself and my shock to You but not knowing how but knowing where to turn.”

Gradually, God helped me to recognize the feelings of fear, confusion, and disbelief. He literally brought levels of understanding as he lifted them off and replaced them with faith, order, and a belief that he would fight this battle for me. It was not to be my battle. It was to be his battle. I was to be still and receive his victory on my behalf. 

I later found that this message he personally brought to me was in his Word. The whole chapter of 2 Chronicles 20 became the stance I took in the days that were set before me as I went out to meet a beaten foe.

In the hospital bed that day, I was not strong enough to search the Scriptures. The Word, himself, dwelling gently deep within me, revealed what I needed.

Then a strong, peaceful, unseen Presence filled the room and approached my bed. God, the Father, in authority and righteousness raised that same hand that had covered my incubator years before, swooped it across my entire body clutching up a mysterious force. In a voice that seemed so audible I will never forget it, I heard, “She is mine. You cannot have her.”

 That Presence left the room taking with it all heaviness. What remained was God’s spirit, peace, and calm. I snuggled down in comfort to sleep for the first time since waking from surgery.

I had no prognosis of my future. 

But the One who did know, 

had once again stayed his child. 

As a newborn infant, I did not have the conscious choice to turn to God. He was there to intervene, to touch the cells of life where his plans for my days lay embedded. It was a calm, nurturing, and healing touch.

Decades later, I had a choice. The journey, my steps during the years in between, had taught me where to turn when in crisis. Cells in my body had attacked it attempting to take what was not rightly theirs to have. 

My numbness in the experience did not numb the Spirit within. God knew I needed the touch of his authority. In faithfulness, he lifted the burden and gently slipped on stronger shoes of acceptance, patience and perseverance. 

Then He laced them up with trust.

Lynn’s First Pair of Shoes

Travel Accessories

 All Photos by Lynn