Sinning daily is definitely a reminder of how much we need God's grace but praising Him daily is a much better way of not forgetting.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Forgotten Jewel
We all wrestle with some particular fear. Mine is the fear of being forgotten. It is rather comical all the times in my life I have been forgotten.
Yet in me there has always been a strong since of value and importance. Like I had something beautiful inside of me waiting to be revealed. There is this fire burning deep inside that is just waiting for the faceting of my life to be done so that the Light of God can shine through me.
Life's enemy seems to know my purpose though.Over the years there have been countless occasions when I felt like a precious stone sitting in a dark cave waiting to be discovered and valued. I have felt discovered and then out shone by another stone then left behind....forgotten. I have even felt like I was removed from the cave. Taken home and then left in a drawer....forgotten.
But today I heard a gentle whisper say..." all that you think you see is only a deception. You, my child are a precious stone that I have been faceting all along. Those dark times are just times when you are in my jewelry box to rest. You have a purpose. I am just not done making the crown. "
I am still processing that thought........
Will all that I have to offer ever mean anything......?
But today I heard a gentle whisper say..." all that you think you see is only a deception. You, my child are a precious stone that I have been faceting all along. Those dark times are just times when you are in my jewelry box to rest. You have a purpose. I am just not done making the crown. "
I am still processing that thought........
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Freckles on My Soul
Okay I probably try everyday to look in my mirror and like my freckles. Pep talks like," A face without freckles is like a sky without stars" (whatever that means), don't work, especially coming from someone who doesn't have freckles. I can't help but think, "I guess my freckles have joined together to spell the word 'dummy' on my forehead."
But I am trying to embrace the fact that God made me this way.
Really Lord what is the purpose of a freckle?.....
I have been told so many reasons why I have them, all of which are void of a purpose. When I look at other animals in nature who have skin variances to the other like animals I find that spots are either a gift to them to protect them from predators or finishing touches by the Creator for just pure aesthetic value. So did God give me these spots so I could camoflage myself or because He likes the way they look.
I am tossing around the idea in my head that maybe it is both. Yes... I know what you are thinking. I get the aesthetic thing...Christ in all His amazing creating skills can actually put something on His creation for just because He thinks it looks great. But I lost you on the predator thing.
Well let me explain... This world is crazed with the idea of sexy, flawless skin. So much so that for some reason my freckles are seen as flaws. It is only just recently that advertisers have started showing people with freckles, yet if you look closely most those are strategically airbrushed so that they in the right places and not too many of them. Don't believe me, start comparing the people you know who have freckles and the ones in the catalogs. You will see it. It is just advertisers attempt convincing you that they are not shallow. Because not liking someone because of their skin is absurd. Yet all the while they are trying to convince me that I am flawed because I have freckles and need to buy their products to cover up my flaws. I am pretty tough though... I am pretty smart... I can see their tricks as desperate attempts to get me to hand over my money. What makes me angry though is what the attack is doing to kids... to teenagers. How much longer are we going to let advertisers define what is beautiful to us.... to our kids.
Yet in all this I am some how finding myself grateful for my flaws. The freckles on my skin and the freckles on my soul. Shallow people see them and completely miss the real me. The freckles on my skin are a gift to help me find those people who can look beyond my spots and see the green and blue in my eyes. If you are reading this you are probably not shallow and can figure out how the freckles on my soul protect me from spiritually shallow people.
So the parting question is do you have freckles on your soul? If so embrace them... they are a gift.
But I am trying to embrace the fact that God made me this way.
Really Lord what is the purpose of a freckle?.....
I have been told so many reasons why I have them, all of which are void of a purpose. When I look at other animals in nature who have skin variances to the other like animals I find that spots are either a gift to them to protect them from predators or finishing touches by the Creator for just pure aesthetic value. So did God give me these spots so I could camoflage myself or because He likes the way they look.
I am tossing around the idea in my head that maybe it is both. Yes... I know what you are thinking. I get the aesthetic thing...Christ in all His amazing creating skills can actually put something on His creation for just because He thinks it looks great. But I lost you on the predator thing.
Well let me explain... This world is crazed with the idea of sexy, flawless skin. So much so that for some reason my freckles are seen as flaws. It is only just recently that advertisers have started showing people with freckles, yet if you look closely most those are strategically airbrushed so that they in the right places and not too many of them. Don't believe me, start comparing the people you know who have freckles and the ones in the catalogs. You will see it. It is just advertisers attempt convincing you that they are not shallow. Because not liking someone because of their skin is absurd. Yet all the while they are trying to convince me that I am flawed because I have freckles and need to buy their products to cover up my flaws. I am pretty tough though... I am pretty smart... I can see their tricks as desperate attempts to get me to hand over my money. What makes me angry though is what the attack is doing to kids... to teenagers. How much longer are we going to let advertisers define what is beautiful to us.... to our kids.
Yet in all this I am some how finding myself grateful for my flaws. The freckles on my skin and the freckles on my soul. Shallow people see them and completely miss the real me. The freckles on my skin are a gift to help me find those people who can look beyond my spots and see the green and blue in my eyes. If you are reading this you are probably not shallow and can figure out how the freckles on my soul protect me from spiritually shallow people.
So the parting question is do you have freckles on your soul? If so embrace them... they are a gift.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Piano Man's Daughter
My father was in the piano tuning and repair business for most of my childhood. During the summers I often got the pleasure of traveling with him all over East Texas as he took on various jobs. I don't know what I loved more...seeing all the beautiful countryside or meeting new people. The chance to have alone time with Daddy was mainly the driving force behind me begging to go every time he picked up his tool box. I never knew whether we would end up in someone's home or at an old country church but either option promised adventure and a front row seat to a concert heard only by a few.
Church pews, choir lofts or baptismal rooms always offered such great surprises. The treasures ranged from crayons to buttons. Blankets left by elders served as tents, capes and Mary's veil. Sometimes I pretended like I was a cold grumpy church lady who was mad that her blanket had been moved.
Then of course there was the pastor's pulpit saved for the last few minutes because I had been told once to save the best for last. A piece of advice that had served me well up to that point so I enforced upon myself to satisfy my craving for wisdom. The pay off always took my imagination on a mystery adventure to discover the sub-concious thoughts of the choir director and the preacher as they were leading the flock. Trinkets such as chewed gum placed neatly on the underside of the pulpit, cups half full of water, tic-tac boxes, guitar pics, visual aids, post -it notes, pens, sermon notes and Bibles. A few times I would find things that baffled me like a pair of flip flops and a toy car.
Daddy would always go through certain steps when tuning. He would play the piano, then go through a process of adjusting the strings. Next were the tuning forks that he would bounce off of his wrist and then hold to his ear as he tightened or loosened the string. When he got to the finer tuning he would place as strip of felt between each string and then tune some more. I always knew when Daddy was winding down when he started removing the felt one string at a time.This was usually when I searched the pulpit.
When he pulled the last piece of felt out I would go sit by him and start packing up his tools being careful to put them exactly where he showed me once before. He played... first a few songs most piano fans would recognize and then onto pieces no one had heard before and no one since.
So imagine for a moment a man who outwardly looks like farmer Santa with his long beard, a fully round belly and a smile that could make anyone chuckle. Now picture him tickling the keys of a piano just as relaxed as someone talking on the phone. When Daddy played he was so full of peace, passion and joy. There is nothing that makes a child feel more secure than to see their parents at peace.
So for months and even years after my father left this world I had the hardest time listening to anyone playing the piano. It was not a sense of utter devastation like one would imagine but more of a disconnection. When I saw my father play he was instantly elevated above all the muck of the world surrounding him and lost in a world of grace, adventure and peace. He was a child again... one who had never lost connection with His creator. Playing music was his prayer language ... not just listening, although that is a joy all its own, but playing. It was a physical way expressing all the things his heart felt but could not divulge. It overwhelmed me to see another soul pour out before God. I needed to disconnect so that my heart would not get swallowed up.
The very thought of touching the piano stirred a sense of fear and awe. I laid down every instrument I had attempted to grace with my insecure fingers. Daddy had always pushed us to play some sort of instrument and detecting his passion I attempted the flute. In vain I tried to make my playing sound as glorious his. Even after he passed I bought myself a flute in order to honor the spirit of my father. Yet sold it years later because I felt I was chasing a hopeless thought.
This road to eternity has had some rather dark valleys. Being young, naive and undiscerning I charged through some of them with sense of adventure much like I did in back road church. Some I am not sure I ever really got out of. Yet, always in the back of my mind, I knew where my Daddy was because I heard Him. I knew when it was time to pack things up and enjoy his concert. Now that I am married.. have a few little ones of my own the darkness of this dark world does not seem like just a valley. Darkness is much darker when you have little ones to protect and a marriage to keep sacred. So dark to me at times I couldn't even hear my Father's music...
So I sat down...in the dark too petrified to cry out because it my be the end of all I hold dear. It so happened that I bumped into my guitar...(another instrumental attempt to embrace my father's passion). The need to reconnect with the heavenly Father was so great that even the sound of mangled guitar offered hope to my soul. Surprised by that I plucked its strings... and plucked until peace vibrated on my heart like the sound on the strings. It was a strange sound at first but as my fingers began to make sense of those different sounds so did my heart. Before long I figured out that several strings together made chords... then several chords made a song. My hands became the key to open up my heart.
The moment I closed my eyes to focus on the sound of peace the light became so bright that my eyes watered from the warmth of it. Praise pours out of my mouth with the greatest ease. Music has become a prayer language to me and sometimes the only way I can speak of or to the One my heart was created to desire.
If you were to listen to me play and not know my heart you probably would be relieved when I am done. But in the quietness of my soul I am playing chords of peace, joy, and love to my Heavenly Father and to my father in heaven.
Church pews, choir lofts or baptismal rooms always offered such great surprises. The treasures ranged from crayons to buttons. Blankets left by elders served as tents, capes and Mary's veil. Sometimes I pretended like I was a cold grumpy church lady who was mad that her blanket had been moved.
Then of course there was the pastor's pulpit saved for the last few minutes because I had been told once to save the best for last. A piece of advice that had served me well up to that point so I enforced upon myself to satisfy my craving for wisdom. The pay off always took my imagination on a mystery adventure to discover the sub-concious thoughts of the choir director and the preacher as they were leading the flock. Trinkets such as chewed gum placed neatly on the underside of the pulpit, cups half full of water, tic-tac boxes, guitar pics, visual aids, post -it notes, pens, sermon notes and Bibles. A few times I would find things that baffled me like a pair of flip flops and a toy car.
Daddy would always go through certain steps when tuning. He would play the piano, then go through a process of adjusting the strings. Next were the tuning forks that he would bounce off of his wrist and then hold to his ear as he tightened or loosened the string. When he got to the finer tuning he would place as strip of felt between each string and then tune some more. I always knew when Daddy was winding down when he started removing the felt one string at a time.This was usually when I searched the pulpit.
When he pulled the last piece of felt out I would go sit by him and start packing up his tools being careful to put them exactly where he showed me once before. He played... first a few songs most piano fans would recognize and then onto pieces no one had heard before and no one since.
So imagine for a moment a man who outwardly looks like farmer Santa with his long beard, a fully round belly and a smile that could make anyone chuckle. Now picture him tickling the keys of a piano just as relaxed as someone talking on the phone. When Daddy played he was so full of peace, passion and joy. There is nothing that makes a child feel more secure than to see their parents at peace.
So for months and even years after my father left this world I had the hardest time listening to anyone playing the piano. It was not a sense of utter devastation like one would imagine but more of a disconnection. When I saw my father play he was instantly elevated above all the muck of the world surrounding him and lost in a world of grace, adventure and peace. He was a child again... one who had never lost connection with His creator. Playing music was his prayer language ... not just listening, although that is a joy all its own, but playing. It was a physical way expressing all the things his heart felt but could not divulge. It overwhelmed me to see another soul pour out before God. I needed to disconnect so that my heart would not get swallowed up.
The very thought of touching the piano stirred a sense of fear and awe. I laid down every instrument I had attempted to grace with my insecure fingers. Daddy had always pushed us to play some sort of instrument and detecting his passion I attempted the flute. In vain I tried to make my playing sound as glorious his. Even after he passed I bought myself a flute in order to honor the spirit of my father. Yet sold it years later because I felt I was chasing a hopeless thought.
This road to eternity has had some rather dark valleys. Being young, naive and undiscerning I charged through some of them with sense of adventure much like I did in back road church. Some I am not sure I ever really got out of. Yet, always in the back of my mind, I knew where my Daddy was because I heard Him. I knew when it was time to pack things up and enjoy his concert. Now that I am married.. have a few little ones of my own the darkness of this dark world does not seem like just a valley. Darkness is much darker when you have little ones to protect and a marriage to keep sacred. So dark to me at times I couldn't even hear my Father's music...
So I sat down...in the dark too petrified to cry out because it my be the end of all I hold dear. It so happened that I bumped into my guitar...(another instrumental attempt to embrace my father's passion). The need to reconnect with the heavenly Father was so great that even the sound of mangled guitar offered hope to my soul. Surprised by that I plucked its strings... and plucked until peace vibrated on my heart like the sound on the strings. It was a strange sound at first but as my fingers began to make sense of those different sounds so did my heart. Before long I figured out that several strings together made chords... then several chords made a song. My hands became the key to open up my heart.
The moment I closed my eyes to focus on the sound of peace the light became so bright that my eyes watered from the warmth of it. Praise pours out of my mouth with the greatest ease. Music has become a prayer language to me and sometimes the only way I can speak of or to the One my heart was created to desire.
If you were to listen to me play and not know my heart you probably would be relieved when I am done. But in the quietness of my soul I am playing chords of peace, joy, and love to my Heavenly Father and to my father in heaven.
Really I don't know why we buy them any toys. They play with boxes more than anything else. Everytime I empty a box they are standing there to take it away. They do it so often that now they don't mind throwing them away because they can make another project next shopping trip. I wonder when they will start asking to buy certain things because of the box rather than what is in it. LOL!Friday, September 18, 2009
I lost it
Thank you Mommy
I want to throw it again Friday, September 11, 2009
Wednesday, September 09, 2009
Silly Boy
Aiden: Momma how do they put babies in people's tummies?
Momma: Well God puts babies in the momma's tummy.
Aiden: How does He do that?
Momma: (proceeding with caution) Well how do you think He does it?
Aiden: I think He takes the momma apart and then puts the baby in and then puts her back together. (hand motions included)
Momma: I guess that would work. (sigh with relief)
Aiden: How does the baby get out?
Momma: (Same tactic) Well you are smart, how do you think God does that?
Aiden: Same way He put the baby in.
Whew!!! Store that conversation on the shelf for later.
Momma: Well God puts babies in the momma's tummy.
Aiden: How does He do that?
Momma: (proceeding with caution) Well how do you think He does it?
Aiden: I think He takes the momma apart and then puts the baby in and then puts her back together. (hand motions included)
Momma: I guess that would work. (sigh with relief)
Aiden: How does the baby get out?
Momma: (Same tactic) Well you are smart, how do you think God does that?
Aiden: Same way He put the baby in.
Whew!!! Store that conversation on the shelf for later.
Saturday, August 08, 2009
Alabaster Jar
Mary's alabaster jar is symbolic of our heart. On this earth we would do best to seek things to fill our jar that will serve as oil to pour on the feet of Jesus. Fill if full of the most sacred things...things you value... things that necessary for you spiritual well being. Make an amazing composition of all the things God has done in your life and in the lives of those around. Store them in your alabaster vessel and when you finally cross the threshold of Christ eternal presence ... place this amazing treasure at his feet.. Hand Him your heart. That is what He wants and it is the only sacrifice that is pleasing to Him.
Saturday, August 01, 2009
What in the World....
A few random happenings around the Spann house
Lets play a game.... see if you can figure out how these objects got there... send a comment with your answer....
Toy Crab tossed up on a door ledge
I opened the lid to the washing machine and found a Littlest pet shop frog stuck to the inside.
A love note in the oven
Disclaimer... if you were to decide to go on a scavenger hunt at the Spann residence these results may vary.. ie finding half chewed tortillas in the kids toy box... or melted crayon circles on the dryer wall...
A few random happenings around the Spann house
Lets play a game.... see if you can figure out how these objects got there... send a comment with your answer....
Toy Crab tossed up on a door ledge
I opened the lid to the washing machine and found a Littlest pet shop frog stuck to the inside.
A love note in the oven
Disclaimer... if you were to decide to go on a scavenger hunt at the Spann residence these results may vary.. ie finding half chewed tortillas in the kids toy box... or melted crayon circles on the dryer wall...Friday, July 10, 2009
Directions
When it is quiet in the car my kids talk about the most random things. So last night on the drive home from a friends house I was tuning the kids out until I heard Aiden loudly proclaim,"No we are going East!"
Maylee: "No we are going West"......
Aiden: " The quail on the gazebo says we are going East". (the quail is a weather vain in our back yard)
Maylee: "Well that way is South so we have to be going West!"
I quickly explained that the ocean was to the west and since we were facing the ocean we had to be going west and that "the quail" tells us which direction the wind is blowing.
Aiden " Oh... so behind us is East"
Me " Yes Aiden"
Lilly, " No its the South East-er Bunny!!!"
I told you it was random.....
Maylee: "No we are going West"......
Aiden: " The quail on the gazebo says we are going East". (the quail is a weather vain in our back yard)
Maylee: "Well that way is South so we have to be going West!"
I quickly explained that the ocean was to the west and since we were facing the ocean we had to be going west and that "the quail" tells us which direction the wind is blowing.
Aiden " Oh... so behind us is East"
Me " Yes Aiden"
Lilly, " No its the South East-er Bunny!!!"
I told you it was random.....
Another Random Car Conversation
Lilly, " Aiden, do you like me?"
Aiden, " I don't know"
Daddy, " You don't know?!!"
Lilly, " Yes or No Aiden!"
Aiden, "No."
Mom, " Aiden, Do you love Lilly?"
Aiden, " A little bit"
Lilly giggles..."Yes or No Aiden?"
Aiden sighs, " Yes".
Lilly, " Okay".... then she smiles really big..
Aiden, " I don't know"
Daddy, " You don't know?!!"
Lilly, " Yes or No Aiden!"
Aiden, "No."
Mom, " Aiden, Do you love Lilly?"
Aiden, " A little bit"
Lilly giggles..."Yes or No Aiden?"
Aiden sighs, " Yes".
Lilly, " Okay".... then she smiles really big..
Friday, June 26, 2009
King Solomon's Mine
We just got a Young Reader's Bible for the kids and Maylee latched on to it right away. Of course we had to make a cover for it. Trying to grasp a teachable moment I attempted to explain to the kids the importance of using wisdom in all of their decisions and that the reason we have people in charge of us is to guide us is to help us make wise decisions. While that brings reassurance to Maylee it weighs as a huge burden on her parents. Knowing Proverbs are filled with lots of wise words I fell back to what I was told as a teenager and told Maylee to read one proverb a day. Since there are 31 it works out just right for a month to month exercise. So when we turned to Proverbs in the reader's Bible it explains the author of most of the Proverbs, King Solomon, and tells about how Proverbs can help us to make wise decisions. Maylee and I read the first proverb which speaks of being careful of those who encourage you to do wrong... basically it leads to their own pain and suffering. It also says that the wise man values correction and instruction. This led to a nice discussion and many encouraging thoughts.
Later that evening Tom (not knowing about the previous) showed Maylee a Chrysocolla mineral from King Solomon's mine. Her face just lit up with excitement. She ran to me and told me about the mineral. Wow.... you could see the neurons connecting in her head. King Solomon was real and had a mine. He was a wise man...He wrote what she just read. As a mineral lover's daughter she knows a great deal about minerals and mines. She loves learning about the Bible. Her step of faith had just landed firmly on the ground... what a moment. Maylee left in excitement. Tom and I breathed a breathe of fresh Grace that God has His little ones in His hands.
We just got a Young Reader's Bible for the kids and Maylee latched on to it right away. Of course we had to make a cover for it. Trying to grasp a teachable moment I attempted to explain to the kids the importance of using wisdom in all of their decisions and that the reason we have people in charge of us is to guide us is to help us make wise decisions. While that brings reassurance to Maylee it weighs as a huge burden on her parents. Knowing Proverbs are filled with lots of wise words I fell back to what I was told as a teenager and told Maylee to read one proverb a day. Since there are 31 it works out just right for a month to month exercise. So when we turned to Proverbs in the reader's Bible it explains the author of most of the Proverbs, King Solomon, and tells about how Proverbs can help us to make wise decisions. Maylee and I read the first proverb which speaks of being careful of those who encourage you to do wrong... basically it leads to their own pain and suffering. It also says that the wise man values correction and instruction. This led to a nice discussion and many encouraging thoughts.
Later that evening Tom (not knowing about the previous) showed Maylee a Chrysocolla mineral from King Solomon's mine. Her face just lit up with excitement. She ran to me and told me about the mineral. Wow.... you could see the neurons connecting in her head. King Solomon was real and had a mine. He was a wise man...He wrote what she just read. As a mineral lover's daughter she knows a great deal about minerals and mines. She loves learning about the Bible. Her step of faith had just landed firmly on the ground... what a moment. Maylee left in excitement. Tom and I breathed a breathe of fresh Grace that God has His little ones in His hands.
Friday, June 05, 2009
Finishing UpWe have closed out the school year. Maylee finished her 1st grade year and she finished her 2nd book in Awanas. She is reading on at least a 5th grade level. If she wants she can read one chapter book in 4 hours. Way to go Maylee!!!
Lilliana is becoming a little girl. She holds her own with the others and absolutely loves to start an argument. Mischievious is the word for her right now. She loves to imitate others as well. You should see drama she uses to impersinate us reading to her. Wow where did my baby girl go?
AidenHe finished preschool with a bang.... he reads and writes already. He reads short sentences and writes all the upper case letters of the alphabet. I wish I could take credit for that but he is just a rather determined child. He finished his second book in Cubbies ( Awanas) as well. Yeah Aiden!
LucasWell he thinks he is as big as the rest. He wants to chase them around... right now he is scooting around arm crawl style... and from this picture you can see he puts his own pants on and is working on reading.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Computer Fritz
I have been having technical difficulties with my computer. One dead.... trying to use and old laptop and the mouse pad is freaking out. Every once in a while I get to use Tom's Mac when he is not using it for work. Can't afford a new one right now so..... My communication with my friends and family will be limited to sparse emails and phone. Oh well. I will fall off the internet wagon for a while....
I have been having technical difficulties with my computer. One dead.... trying to use and old laptop and the mouse pad is freaking out. Every once in a while I get to use Tom's Mac when he is not using it for work. Can't afford a new one right now so..... My communication with my friends and family will be limited to sparse emails and phone. Oh well. I will fall off the internet wagon for a while....
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