Voila!

Many of my social media friends are updating their profile pictures using cartoon apps such as Voila AI artist. And the pictures are so appealing... flawless complexion, no wrinkles, big eyes... but of course it got me thinking: What if we had an app to see what we will look like in glory?

In II Corinthians Paul writes that "we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image."

C. S. Lewis reminds us that believers are "everlasting splendors." 

And in II John 3:2 we read "Beloved, we are God's children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when he appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is."

I can hardly wait to see those profile updates. <3 

2021

Each December I choose a focus word for the upcoming new year. 2020's word of the year was Hwaet, to remind me to look around and see what God is doing and to listen to His story as He reveals it in my life. It proved to be a good word in several ways... it was different than my norm, which sure suited 2020... and it forced me to keep looking for God's hand in what was going on.

As I worked through a few ideas this year, I kept coming back to the idea of quiet and my need for a quiet heart. Isaiah 30:15 and 32:17-18 have long been favorite verses and I feel the need for this kind of quiet in the world: 

For thus said the Lord God, the Holy One of Israel, "In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and in trust shall be your strength."

and:

the effect of righteousness will be peace, and the result of righteousness, quietness and trust forever. My people will abide in a peaceful habitation, in secure dwellings, and in quiet resting places. 

So, "quiet heart" or "un coeur tranquille" it will be.

PoisonIvy.v.2020

So. Just some 2020 ramblings as I (hopefully) am hitting the end of what has been my worst ever case of Poison Ivy. Yes. It deserves the upper case. 

Our property is highly wooded and even more highly covered with PI, so I bump into it a few times a summer. Which, in the past, has just led to little isolated itchy bumps that fade in a few days like mosquito bites. 

But not in 2020.

This PI started slow. Nothing to write home about. And then it started to spread. And if reporters were writing about it the stories would have been very mixed. Right Hand and Arm: DISASTER! RED ALERT! Left Arm: Not that bad, really, quit your griping. Rest of body: What are you talking about? There is no problem here. Then after a few days of these conflicting reports, the Face weighed in with: AAACK! WHAT IS EVEN GOING ON? And a day or two later the Face shut down one of the Eyes. At which point Brain decided it was time to seek some sort of Expert Advice. Said Expert administered a Sharp Intervention in areas that had not reported any conflict whatsoever. That Sharp Intervention did not seem to have any significant effect for a lagtime of 72 hours. And then suddenly there was a vast improvement on all fronts.

We are now a week from that Intervention. And varied reports continue to come in from parts of the body. The Right Hand and Arm have ceased to weep and are now covered with fresh pink flesh. The Left Hand and Arm continue to have limited squalls. The Face and Eye believe everything is back to normal, why are we still talking about this? And the Legs are fighting very limited outbreaks and saying: Is This What All the Fuss Was About? But the Brain is saying: I wish it were completely gone. What if there is a need for another intervention? And what if we touch the Evil Weed again?

It is hard in the midst of 2020 to know what is going on and what to listen to. 

Let Us Fall Into the Hand of God

So. Right now we are in the midst of a shutdown to try to slow the spread of Coronavirus. Everyone is scared. I was trying to figure out if I am more or less scared than I was at 9/11, and I have settled on: Less scared.

I think it is because this disease seems so directly from God's hand rather than the hand of an enemy and so lacks the same feeling of evil directed against us. I was thinking about David after he conducted the census he shouldn't have (II Samuel 24) and was given three options by the prophet:
‘Thus says the Lord, Three things I offer you. Choose one of them, that I may do it to you.’” So Gad came to David and told him, and said to him, “Shall three years of famine come to you in your land? Or will you flee three months before your foes while they pursue you? Or shall there be three days' pestilence in your land? Now consider, and decide what answer I shall return to him who sent me.”

David answers: 
“I am in great distress. Let us fall into the hand of the Lord, for his mercy is great; but let me not fall into the hand of man.”  

and I have to agree. Then you look at the numbers... 
So the Lord sent a pestilence on Israel from the morning until the appointed time. And there died of the people from Dan to Beersheba 70,000 men. 16 And when the angel stretched out his hand toward Jerusalem to destroy it, the Lord relented from the calamity and said to the angel who was working destruction among the people, “It is enough; now stay your hand.”

Wow! 70,000 in three days in a very small area geographically. Praise God for His mercy in staying the hand of destruction, and may He be pleased to do so again very soon. 

Pocketses

I woke from a dream. :) I'm guessing this one was spawned by a discussion I had with Mr Music about carrying his house key at all times. 

I was doing some sort of research -- actually, I think, a doctorate -- into what people carry in their pockets and how it varies across occupations and how it has varied throughout history. And the research was expanded to include things like the cloth pockets women wore in the colonial period, and purses (pocketbags) and even small backpacks. 

The apparent focus of this research was how it seems to have changed in my life. My Dad carried a wallet, some change, his keys, matches, a fountain pen, and always a cloth handkerchief. I remember my Grandads also carrying off-white pipe cleaners that came in packs of about 30 with a paper band around them (Dutch something?) even though I don't have any memory of them smoking pipes. I will have to ask my Mum about that one. 

I don't generally have much in my pockets -- just a fidget toy and a lip balm --but rely on a purse or coat pockets for the rest. And here's a fun link if you want to see into other people's pockets.

So I am curious. What do you carry with you wherever you go? 

Drops

Yesterday I woke at the end of a drizzle. I looked out my window and saw the pretty raindrops on the rhododendron. And here are the places my head went:

first, my head was quoting a poem from a poster I had in junior high. I have never been able to track it down so maybe it was just poster fodder but it said Dylan:

In the early pearly morning when the sun begins to rise
and the flowers lift their faces
In a world that's less than kind
Tell me, tell me, tell me
There are still some quiet places


which leads to what is quite possibly my favorite verse:

"in returning and rest you shall be saved;
in quietness and in trust shall be your strength."
But you were unwilling. ~ Isaiah 30:15
(I quote this to myself and always add, "may I be willing.")


then come the verses a couple chapters later: 


And the effect of righteousness will be peace, 
and the result of righteousness, quietness and trust forever.
My people will abide in a peaceful habitation
in secure dwellings, and in quiet resting places. ~ Isaiah 32:17-18


and the whole cycle concluded with me reciting a song from camp growing up - I don't remember the tune but just the words - before breakfast: 

I saw raindrops on my window, Joy is like the rain.
Laughter runs across my pain, slips away and comes again. Joy is like the rain. 

I saw clouds upon a mountain, Joy is like a cloud. 
Sometimes silver, sometimes gray, always sun not far away. Joy is like a cloud. 

I saw Christ in wind and thunder, Joy is tried by storm. 
Christ asleep within my boat, whipped by wind, yet still afloat. Joy is tried by storm. 

I saw raindrops on the river, Joy is like the rain. 
Bit by bit the river grows, till all at once it overflows. Joy is like the rain. 
~ Miriam Therese Winter

Ramblings about Red

Color is always interesting to me. And now it is time to think about red.

Back at Christmas time I found gel pens on clearance for a dime and bought them out for stocking stuffers. There was only one red one, and I kept it for myself. I had it stuffed in a back pocket where apparently it clicked open without my knowledge and ALL the ink in it soaked through my pocket and on to the upholstery in our relatively new and here-to-fore unstained car. It was not a fine moment. 

DH did all he could to get it out, but, it was still very much there, so every time I saw it I felt back in the doghouse. 

But now, the sun has faded the red right away... see? Hardly there, just a little pinkish. Maybe by the end of summer no mark of this mishap will remain.

Now that surprises me. It seems like red is the most stainerific color and there it is, nearly gone. So natch I start thinking about Isaiah:

though your sins are like scarlet,
    they shall be as white as snow;
though they are red like crimson,
    they shall become like wool.

How can this be? We know it's through the blood... red again. A very staining red. How on earth does covering something with blood lead to it being white? I don't know. Red blood is full of oxygen, giving life. 

I also think about the character Red from Shawshank Redemption and the hope he found. There is even greater hope to be found in Christ. Thank God that sin can be atoned for by Jesus's red blood.