shadowwonder

Silent night. Holy night. Now is calm. All is quiet. Family—father, mother, child. Day’s work ceases; rest awhile. Sleep in dreams of peace. Sleep in dreams of peace. Shining dawn. Shadow falls. Children quake at the sight.
 Evil streams its blackness nigh, scatters heart-rent stain.   All cry: “Human darkness, born!" Christ, our darkness born. Silent night. Desperate night. Son of God.  Love’s pure light? Sorrow's trail on mother’s face blurs all vision. Hidden grace. Plead “Emmanuel." Come, Emmanuel. Silent light.   Holy light. Cure our souls. Heal our blight. Cancel Darkness, take its place. World relent to redeeming Grace. Bring Your promised peace. Christ! Oh be our Peace.

More than a few passengers in my Honda Pilot have commented on the odd combination of items dangling from my rearview mirror:    A leather cross received from a Baylor friend, a free coffee pass from Einstein’s Bagels (better get some before it expires!), and a charm my Camp Ozark buddy, Robin, gave me last August. It says “Noticed.”   A word that conveys a powerful message. For when I’m noticed, I am . . . . Seen. Known. Recognized. Approved. Accepted. Favored. Understood. Appreciated. Maybe even cherished. The coffee coupon and the cross on my “car necklace” aren’t so surprising. But the pendant?    It’s a little more telling.   Because—for better or for worse—I long for someone to notice how I’m . . . .                     Living my life.                     Parenting my children.                     Talking to my husband.                     Interacting with my students.                     Keeping my house.     

My last post describes my tendency to get swept into the swirl of anxious thoughts that often spew, uninvited, through my mind. This thought-pattern God is uncovering is one I didn’t even realize as a part of my life.   And I am recognizing—even this very moment as I type—that the hands doing this uncovering are those of a loving, gentle, powerful Father providing firm guidance.   Guidance my life needs.   Guidance my heart craves. He is continuing to speak truth about my tendency towards anxious thoughts . . . .   And I wonder whether I’m the only one who might benefit from hearing what He seems to be saying. For most of my life, I’ve believed that this experience: the unexpected and overwhelming flood of worried thoughts, the chokehold of worry, the careful, fear-motivated efforts to avoid each “worst case scenario,” the compulsion to make absolutely sure that I am not the failure that these thoughts suggest . . . . For most of my life, I’ve mis-labeled this experienc

I’m sure you’re familiar with this prayer that ends David’s beautiful Psalm 139. “Search me oh God, and know my heart. Test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.” For most of my life, I’ve understood this passage as a plea for God to convict me of displeasing actions and attitudes in my life.   Sort of a request for Him to open my soul’s door, turn on His flashlight, and spotlight the sins that I may be able to see myself.   It’s been a prayer that often led to confessing unholiness I wasn’t previously aware of.   And, since I know there’s plenty of sin tucked away in my soul, it’s long been a prayer I’ve been a little hesitant to actually pray. Lately, though, these verses have taken on a different, more hopeful, meaning. In her wonderful book, Abundant Simplicity , Jan Johnson (whose writing, by the way, has been a source of guidance and encouragement to me for many years), parap

So the adjustment to middle school is a little more than anyone anticipated.   Part of it has to do with the challenging academics.   The material is a little tougher.   The expectations are higher, as they should be.   But the real issue?   Organization.   [ Not my strong suit, by the way, which is no small irony, since I teach a course in study skills.   For a living .] But it’s time to get our game faces on. And we are getting really serious around our house. About the agenda.   About recording assignments. About bringing home the right books at night. About getting our work done. About doing it well. About putting that work back into the binder for tomorrow. About turning it in.   On time . About   not cramming things down to the bottom of the locker.   Or the backpack.   (Because while doing a clean-out the other day, one of my little darlings found a baggie of a-substance-formerly-known-as-grapes.   Fortunately for all of us,