I had one job. To get my grandchildren to school on time this morning. The careful list of instructions left by my daughter spelled it out clearly.

“Leave the house by 7:15 am.”

I am clever. I remember the ordeal a simple task of loading the car can be. We stepped out the door at 7 am sharp with the idea fifteen minutes to load would be ample. Silly me. It’s been too long. I should have started at 3 am.

The Boston Terrier escaped when the door opened, which was no big deal because she self-potties and runs back to the door. Unless there is a raccoon in the yard. She took off like a bat out of hell and disappeared into the woods.

First the children went in hot pursuit— but to no avail. They were impressed how their skittish dog penetrated the forest with no reserve. Then it was my turn. Into the woods I went.

Looking up, I spotted Olive’s obsession in the branch over my head. Leash in hand, eventually I corralled our domesticated crazed beast and coaxed her out of the brush and back into civilization. Enough adventure for one day— these kids must get to school!

Buckled back in, I press the ignition.

“Key fob not found.”

I am holding the fob in my hand. This is a push button ignition. Ugh!!! Ok, there is an emergency manual key hidden in every fob — I extract it and look for the insertion slot.

Dashboard. No. Under the cup holder. No. In the storage bay. No. Dash again. No. By my knees. No. Ugh!!! My grandson Brave mentions the penalties levied against him for arriving late.

Ugh.

Quick thinking, my beloved searches google “Mazda Fob Reset” and gets the vehicle to respond to the fob. Off we go! Thank you, Grandpa!

I do not know my way around Nashville. But I am quick with my GPS and equipped with the address pre-loaded. Only upon arriving at the first spaghetti junction, the options the program presented me did not match the road signs. Each road may have 4 names, but only a local can supply the names not present on the sign overhead. And I am no local.

Pulling off in heavy traffic, I switch programs and the alternate app chooses a route actually represented by signage. How was I to know it was a fifteen minute diversion to make a loop back around? And loop we did.

I prayed for a miracle- a teleportation wonder where somehow we pull into car line right on time. That miracle did not happen. My grandchildren were late to school this morning, my first day behind the wheel of their parenting, entrusted with their precious lives.

But a miracle had taken place, over a number of years actually. The miracle of being able to remain calm under pressure, the miracle of not accepting the shame offered me after failure. The miracle of seeing the humor in circumstances real time, even when the outcome feels like it makes me look bad. The miracle of being present and loving life and being connected to the God of the universe who is smiling at me as I navigate loving well in the midst of stress.
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Rescue comes in the form of a Person— through Divine camaraderie and empowerment. Today, in the midst of your own story, receive His provision and watch the same miracles unfold.

My body needs water. I cannot get away from its daily demands. In my kitchen I gulp a few sips to down my supplements. I grab a bottle from my garage on my way out the door. My coffee has water in it. Surely that counts? 

My routine consumption rarely approaches the eight to nine glasses a day recommended by health professionals. I run a constant deficit, staying on the verge of dehydration. 

Why? 

Water is continuously available to me. It is canned and sparkling in my fridge, Colorado-fresh and free-flowing out my spigot, melodious in the creek by my home. Majestic in the expanse of wind-churned peaks across the surface of a nearby lake.  Thunderous and powerful over the falls. Thoroughly drenching from the skies. There is no lack of water in its availability to me. 

Even so, I barely quench my thirst when there is nothing else as refreshing or satisfying as water. 

I awoke this morning to Holy Spirit’s invitation to recognize His offer to drink deeply. My thirst is not met by His ubiquitous nature; it is met by my intentional consumption of Him. Not a sip here and there, not a gulp along with supplements, not my morning hot brew to awaken me for my day. His offer is saturation, steeping, ingesting, filling myself with Him. On cool days and scorchers alike. 

I need Him.

On the afternoon of Christmas Eve, I slipped into the restroom at the Dallas Fort Worth airport between flights. After washing my hands, I noted the custodian standing nearby, so as is my custom, I slowed down to make eye contact, smile, and thank her for her labors. However, when my eyes connected with hers, I became startled by the depth of sadness and grief she could not conceal. It was so unnerving, I had to catch my breath, quickly slipping past her after a cursory greeting.

Scenarios flooded my mind— who has she lost? What does this year represent for her? Is she alone this Christmas? Does she have a disabled child? Is she a caregiver? What are her fears? I found myself wishing I had an extra hundred dollar bill tucked away I could slip into her hand, but I did not. And her pain seemed untouchable, almost cheapened by suggesting mere cash could allay it. But I was grasping, wishing I had a way to help. I kept walking, haunted by the glimpse into her soul. I do not always know what to do, say or even pray.

​This is a hard year for many. Too hard.

As I post my holiday greetings and pictures of family, I am acutely aware many are struggling, some feeling utterly alone.

​Many are aware God appeared on earth clothed in flesh, his coming providing mankind a model to live by. Others may realize Jesus came as a man without sin in order to pay the price for the wrong each of us have done, qualified to do so by His own perfection. He makes forgiveness possible. A just God requires accountability; a loving God bore the price for it Himself on a cross.

But few recognize the purpose of Jesus’ miraculous appearance was to restore us to God relationally, so we could live in union with our Creator, a good, good, God.

Union. Bliss. Intimacy.

These are not words we typically hear applied to the Christian faith, and yet, this is the purpose and goal of Christ’s work upon the Earth: to destroy the works of the evil one (who labors to isolate man from God), to speak the Truth of reconciliation and connection with God, and to restore mankind to His side as companions. He calls us friend!

This is the Good News.

No matter what circumstances we face, He will never leave us or forsake us. He is so committed to us, His people are inscribed on the palms of His hands.

I thought you might need some good news as we end out 2020 and enter a new year, not alone after all.

Happy New Year!

It is vacation time, for what we could muster in a state hopping with COVID and our personal losses mounting on several fronts. To complement the restorative glory of our seaside rental, our daughter and grans joined us for two weeks.

I dropped my girl and the kids off at the Orlando airport last night. Headed back to the condo I passed through a log jam caused by five fire trucks and one of the most horrible wrecks I have ever seen. On a darkened stage pelted by rain, there were 10-15 emergency personnel gathered in a circle, holding hands with heads bowed. Not a single fireman was working the wreck.

Sacred. And deeply moving.

Someone died. Perhaps a whole family. And someone else got that horrible news last night.

Horrible news is becoming the norm in a way that threatens to shake us to our core. I do not welcome death and loss, but I do welcome the unseating of everything in my life masquerading as security in a world where true Security can only be found in the Person of Jesus Christ. I am inviting God to use global and exclusive plights to spotlight this truth for me with greater clarity, to refresh my God orientation with Him in His rightful place.

Everyday life’s demands attempt to take Jesus off center-stage. To replace Him with urgencies, plans for reconfigurations to win back homeostasis in our lives, to coronate a false security that looks more like control and predictability than yieldedness to our wild God.

We need Jesus now more than ever. In Jesus there is peace. In Jesus we endure losses knowing there is coming a glorious restoration of all things. In Jesus there is healing and Hope.

Because of Christ, in a time of great pain, we have comfort to give others. (II Corinthians 1:4) ​With so much bad news, we have Good News to share. (I Corinthians 15:1)

Other mornings I awaken unaware, grab my phone and paralyze my mind scrolling through social media, emails, and text messages that came in during the night. The noise wipes clean my perceptions of the Divine, my sensitivity to His subtle whispers. 

Coffee. Coffee, please. 

One morning I can feel so connected, and the next, as though my day has started and this faith walk gets compartmentalized, relegating my interaction with Jesus to the confines of an appointment later in the day. 

Awareness of patterns is half the battle. Take inventory! 

The truth is, it is only in Christ "we live, and move and have our being". (Acts 17:28 NIV) Apart from Him, we can do nothing. Only connection with Jesus can produce the kind of fruit we want from our day or really even from our lives. (John 15:4-5) My life is not my own; it is not up to me to direct my own steps. (Jeremiah 10:23) And when I try, through omission, I lose ground. 

Now more than ever, with each day bringing new chaos, we must commune, connect, pursue, and draw near to our God. Our lives are designed to be an experience of immersion in Him, every moment of every day. As you draw near to Him, He promises to draw near to you! (James 4:8) 

Do not wait. Can you feel the urgency of the hour?

I am in the middle of a bathroom remodel project, the kind of vast under-taking that guts a room and slowly rebuilds it into a place of beauty. I contracted out most of the work, like the shower demolition, re-tiling, and custom wood butcher-block counters. But I have professional-level painting skills. 

For days I have sanded cabinets, primed, and painted. Yesterday I finally finished prepping the walls and ceiling and began the arduous task of painting the room. By the time I am ready to clean my equipment and brushes, typically in the middle of the night, I am utterly exhausted. You know how projects go. 

If a quality paintbrush is not cleaned properly, it dries stiff and hard and becomes useless. It takes time to clean it properly. A thorough cleaning requires copious amounts of running water— a stagnant bucket of water will not do. A painter then uses a dual-sided tool; a metal, sharp-pronged comb on one side, paired with a metal brush similar to a barbecue grill brush on the other side. 

I use the metal brush to repetitively scratch the exterior of the paintbrush’s ferrule stroking down the bristles under a running sink facet until the brush looks clean. But a mere squeeze reveals my brush is still full of paint! The efficient way to rid the brush of the paint is to use the sharp prongs of the metal comb to pierce the brush starting at the heel, splaying the bristles, and raking repetitively through the belly and toe of the brush, all the while under the gushing spigot. This method exposes the interior bristles to the cleansing flow until the brush is squeezed and the emerging water runs clear. Last night while rinsing my brushes, I accidentally pierced my finger with the sharp prongs of the cleaning comb, commingling my blood with the freshly flowing water and fading paint. 

​Can you see where I am going with this description? We can be raked and pierced by life’s assaults all day long and not benefit in the slightest. But God has a divine purpose behind the hardships we face in this life. With the spigot running continuously, He restores us during the transformation process if we position ourselves in Him. 

I want the fruit of my remodeled lavatory, but I do not look forward to the chaos of dismantling existing structures or to cleaning my brushes. I cannot have a new room without enduring the chaos and the cleaning. Our lives are the same way. I want my life and character to be transformed by God, becoming beautiful. But the project is one of demolition and yielding to a thorough cleaning for me to emerge as hoped. 

My life and yours too require copious amounts of free-flowing Water, running constantly, to cleanse the compacted strands of our life stories  — both the washing of the water of the Word and abiding in the Spirit immersed in the River of Life. A bucket of water captured in a quick morning devotion will just not suffice. The flow of His presence must be constant. The more Water, the better! 

And it takes a good piercing under that flow to expose what is hidden. Prayers to abort the process do not yield a life usable in the hands of the Master Painter. Instead, apply more Water and benefit fully from the raking, embracing God's divine purpose and provision. Visualize the brush with each squeeze of the bristles in your Master's hand! 

Drawing blood last night created in my mind’s eye what really has to happen. It is the piercing of Jesus Christ, His blood, His cleansing flow applied to my life that leaves me restored, supple for use. And the bathroom? It is still a work in progress, but it is coming along beautifully!

​On occasion I like to camp alone, a time when I can pray and worship immersed in nature. Praise isn't something I'm supposed to do, rather, it's something I can't help myself from doing, like gasping at a glorious sunrise. The more I experience God in His goodness, sustaining me, even rescuing me, the more amazed I become by Him.

​Last night I worshipped under the stars nestled by a creek from my tiny Mtn Glo Tent, and pondered King Solomon. We all remember how God offered Solomon anything, and he chose wisdom, greatly pleasing God. What is easy to forget however, is that the entire exchange happened in a dream. And yet it was real. As I drifted to sleep, I asked Holy Spirit if He would speak to me that night in a dream as well, and if I too could choose wisely in a way that would honor Him.

The moment I emerged into the calm, my phone rang.

​I took a deep breath of relief with risk behind me, and answered.

On the line was one of the heavy hitters I took with me last month for Kingdom expansion pioneering work in North Borneo. She related that God spoke my name to her, and directed her to call me with an immediate message:

"I see you as the trophy. You are victorious. You are fully capable. You are well equipped. You are a leader. He is so pleased with you. Again, you are the trophy...you are His champion."

I was stunned. Timing is everything.

Then last night, as I'm sharing with my host my vision for founding a non-profit to bring autism intervention to developing nations, discussing setting up the board, the same feeling hit my stomach: rapids ahead, uncertainty, a mission seemingly without the skill set, but determination.

Immediately the affirming word returned, "His trophy, His champion, victorious, capable, equipped". His word had imprinted, and now is triggered with the internal feeling I get when approaching rapids in a kayak.

I thought of Gideon threshing his wheat while hiding from his enemies in a vat. God addressed him as "O valiant warrior!" And truly he was.

What rapids are you approaching that turn your stomach a bit, that threaten to tumble you upon the rocks?

​Listen intently for the affirmation God is poised to speak into your spirit at that very moment, to imprint upon you that indeed, you've got this. He is with you with every thrust of your oar.

Our ferry from Negros Island to Bohol Island was delayed for several hours, and concern arose for our ability to fulfill our commitment to speak that evening. Any changes could also impact the next day's schedules.

The journey before us involved a rough sea crossing. ​The two Dramamine pills I took were making me terribly sleepy as we waited ad nauseum in the hot, cramped, pre-loading staging area at the docks.

​As we headed toward the rocking craft to board, my travel companions began throwing out ideas for rescuing the sabotaged conference speaking schedule. 

• “Melanie could take tonight’s session while we sleep!“ 
  Me: “Ok.” 
  
  
• “Melanie could give up her plenary tomorrow to make up for lost time!”
  Me: “That works.” 
  
  (Peals of laughter ensued.)
  
  
• ​“Doesn’t anything ruffle your feathers?” one friend playfully chided. 

​​Not much.

And believe me, not getting frustrated is not in my “natural” temperament.

The truth is, raising children with hidden disabilities, precious wonderful children that are incredibly trying and who cause us to die to ourselves every...single...day of our lives, produces lovely fruit of patience, tolerance and perseverance. 

All of the peace I cried out for in my prayers during the most trying seasons of child raising, I have now, not because my babies are near grown, but because peace can be internal independent of agitators or circumstances.

You are not just molding your children. Your children are molding you, and its a beautiful thing. ​

Much truth has been written about positive thinking and its power to change the way we act. Even so, the power of positive thinking is a watered down weapon of warfare against Satan, a dull sword in a combatant’s hands against a lethal enemy who will stop at nothing less than your annihilation. Your greatest spiritual weapon of offense is not positive thinking but the Sword of the Spirit, the Word of God (Ephesians 6:17). With it in your mind and heart, as well as on your lips, you are able to stand firm when the enemy on the outside or the lies within attack.

At times I feel isolated and cut off from God’s restorative presence. When these times come, I combat the lie of helplessness with the sword of truth, which says I am the temple of God whose Spirit lives in me twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, regardless of circumstances (1 Corinthians 3:16). When I am attacked with the lie that today’s failures make me particularly odious to God, my sword strikes back with the sharp-edged declaration that my life is “a Christ-like fragrance rising up to God” (2 Corinthians 2:15).\
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You see, time spent reading and meditating on the Word of God is not merely a spiritual discipline or one more brick to add to your trudging load, another area where you can fall under its weight. Instead, consuming the Word provides nourishing truth and life to your innermost being, life that defeats the lies of the enemy.

From Toppling the Idol of Ideal: Raising Children with Hidden Disabilities, Chapter 4, The Battle.