{teachable}

Blessed are those 

that don't think they know it all

but are teachable. Todd White

Lights are most useful in darkness.

deborah

welcome { to the table }

the table

la table

la mesa

la tavola

der tisch

la sto

seghany

tavolina

die tafel

alttawila

tebilati

stol

zhuozi

bordet

etc.

No matter how you say it

 the table is a universal image

of connection, fellowship,

 blessing and giving thanks.

A place to rest, to dine, to write.

Go out to the roads and country lanes 

and compel them to come in, 

so that my house may be full.

Luke 14:23

There is a chair for everyone 

who would come to the King's table.

Seek while he may be found,

call upon him while he is near.

Isaiah 55

{unseen} beauty

{unseen} beauty

In quietness and in trust shall be your strength.

                          

A simple and complex word.

I heard a speaker use a particular word in the form of a question recently

and it captured my attention.

It was a simple word that likely skipped right over the ears of many 

and perhaps was all to familiar to others but it was very timely for me and I heard it.

".. endorsement..."
And I wondered who endorses me?

Please hear me, I know who endorses me, defines me and created me.
 But an honest question: On this planet, who?
And would one or two or three be.. enough?

Community is important and the council of honest friends is very valuable
but who am I looking to to endorse me?
Endorsement gives validity to what you are doing.
It gives a much firmer foundation to a project.
If an organization wanted to build a dream but lacked the funding
they would look to a lender to back them, endorse them.
Shark Tank.  They lend and of course they take in exchange.
 If you start a business or a non-profit there are laws governing that you have
a group, a committee or board of leadership.

My husband and I started a non-profit organization called
GOING BEYOND THE GAME and I was quite surprised by all of the processes.
We have a board made of honest visionaries and tacticians
and that is stabilizing and deeply valuable.

Many around me do not see it.
Perhaps because they only know what they see on the surface.
As a deeply buried dream begins to emerge and it's purpose becomes
 less and less foggy and vague this word was quite timely.
So buried in fact, that I had forgotten until a spot light was put on it
in a darkened room of a few thousand people.
Endorsement.
"...there's a dream deep, deep inside of you... breathe on it..." and then
"I endorse you.  I see your dream.  It's my dream that I've put in you."
"I see it clearly.  Trust me. I will bring it up and out and unfold it before you..."
That is the single most valuable, pointed and precise endorsement that I need, right?

It is still out of focus, fuzzy and a bit vague.
 Tiny bits and pieces are coming to bring shape to an unknown
 but I am keeping my ears and heart open to hear the rumble of the unfolding.
And until then I will keep doing what I'm doing.

Jeremiah 29:11
"For I know the plans..."

And that is really what I want, all I want, only what I want.
All the other what would look like 'dreams' are just fillers, temporary fluff and styrofoam to me.
Too many ideas and such a short time.

What is your dream?
Are you walking that out?
And to some of you who feel limited, too broken or a life too far gone
 I ask "Why not?"
I think real dreams take our feet from the dirt of this life and launch us
and many others along the way into high places.

If your dream doesn't scare you it may not be big enough.

It's a challenge to wrap up this post since it is such an unfinished topic
so how about this:

"To be continued"



Deborah

a gift of living, trusting, joyful {grace}

{grace}

Have you ever thought that you've learned 

quite a bit about something

only to discover that you really don't know so much at all?

I thought I had learned a few things about grace.

Undeserved favor.

Unmerited.

A gift.

Amazing grace how sweet the sound

that saved a wretch like me.

I once was lost but now am found.

Was blind but now I see.

Grace.

The kind you ask for, 

search for or at least put your heart or hands out for.

Last week, in the middle of the night 

I found myself sitting in an emergency room

 in great pain with many unanswered questions.

The diagnosis was undetermined.

The cause of the problem was a mystery.

The cat scan showed cause for very real concern.

My husband sat exhausted in the corner 

slumped over in a chair.

As I returned to the room from my second cat scan 

I could hear whispers "How serious is it, Doctor?"

Worry. Fear. Concern.

I felt cushioned, insulated from fears and worry.grace

As the team of medical staff looked over lab results 

and discussed my prognosis I sat quietly, peaceful. grace

I usually pray about things. Everything and often.

I am a mom. I am a wife. I am human and in this world

there are always things to talk to God about.

But I didn't even do that.  I just sat. Peaceful.grace

I thought "I'm ready.  I'm ready to go"

But I have children, children that aren't grown yet.

And my husband... he'd have to find a new wife. 

Ugh. So much hassle.  ;)

So a thought slipped into my mind with such ease 

like oxygen enters the lungs while in a deep sleep.

Effortlessly the thought came as I looked at my tired husband

"I don't have dying grace.  I have living grace."grace

At first it was a silent thought that entered quietly and gently

into the corridors of my mind.  

Then deciding that the thought deserved merit

I contemplated it a moment then gave it a soft megaphone.

"I don't have dying grace.  I have living grace."

And I repeated it again for three reasons.

I needed to hear what I just said.

I wanted my husband to hear again what I just said and

it carried the watermark of hope, wisdom, 

comfort and peace that surpassed mine.

 (sending a text to a group of men who pray)

Several years ago my mother's health declined.

It was a time filled with challenges of all kinds.

There were days and moments filled with hope and determination

and days sprinkled with questions, disappointments and grief.

One perfect spring afternoon, the kind you'd see on a cartoon or Sesame Street, brilliant blue with white puffy clouds

Mom took flight into eternity.

I got to be by her side when she departed her shell of a body 

and flew with a circle of birds upward.

I saw grace.

Grace to go.

Dying grace.

And also helped an aunt take Grandma a few years ago 
across a cold windy parking lot from her nursing home
 to a dr. appointment to check on her lungs.

They suspected pneumonia. 

As they tried to take her blood pressure on her frail little arm

the nurse could see that bone and skin alone 

couldn't give a proper reading.

So the nurse paused and removed the cuff and then listened to her lungs and heart.
She sweetly looked up at my aunt and then she was gone.
She told me weeks before that she wanted to go home.
She had grace to go.

As I sat in the ER another thought:

And an image of a little girl clinging to a huge iron anchor.

Trusting. Resting. Waiting. Clinging. Joyful.

Yes, joy.grace

My husband says it was the pain management but I know better.

I was so darn funny! I was cracking one liners all night/morning!

After seeing the second cat scan the doctor 

asked in a concerned tone

"Tell me, where is your greatest pain?"

Swiftly answering with mouth off to the side 

and one eyebrow raised I said quite matter of fact 

"In the black shirt, sitting over there in the corner." 

After deciding to admit me into the hospital 

but to transfer me to the main campus

an ambulance service was called for transport.

When they arrived I walked out of the ER 

and asked them if I could drive.

(post limo, pre arrival into 'med spa' suite)

When we arrived at the hospital and was being taken to my room

I was asked if I preferred

to be carried into the room or if I wanted to walk.

I said I could walk and as I got up to walk added

"Thanks for the limo ride guys!  

I'd tip ya but I left my purse at home!"

I called the hospital my med spa.

(room service, really?)

Room service?  They actually call it ROOM SERVICE!

Of course, I wasn't hungry but I had to eat something

so I could take my meds so I had a salmon fillet

and it was perfect.

Seriously, things have changed since I had my last baby!

A menu?  Spa-cation.

  No cooking or cleaning, no dog hair or dogs barking, ahhh...

At last all tucked in and ready to go to sleep at 5:40am.

Well, that's what I thought...

Wait.  I'm in a hospital.

Time to take your vitals.

Hi we're from lab and we've come to take a gallon of blood.

Time to take your vitals.

Hi, we're from lab and we've come for another gallon.

Time to take your vitals.

Hi.  I'm your surgeon...

Hi.  I'm your surgeon's resident...

Time for vitals...

I asked if there was anyway I could sleep just a bit

since I had no sleep Sunday night.

The nurse compassionately smiled and said I'll be right back.

When she returned she carried a little spa kit:

ear plugs and a room darkening mask and graciously stated 

"We will coordinate lab and vitals so you can rest this afternoon."

Grace.

I have tests and more tests this week and next.

I will be found clinging to the Anchor

with gratefulness for His gifts of grace.

Trust really is the opposite of fear.

The image of the anchor and the little girl 

was a picture of where I was at in my thoughts.

Trust brings peace providing space for being at rest

and having true joy, freedom from carrying a load of worry, fear...

"Come to me all who are weary and carry heavy loads

and I will give you rest. 

Take my yoke..."

He has us covered.

He truly has our back.

Living grace.

Healing grace.

I didn't ask.

I didn't fight for it.

I didn't even pray.

It was just there, a gift.

I guess that's what grace is.

Light shines brightest in darkness.

Have a grace filled day!

Deborah

dirt and a destiny { merci }

It's been 'a winter' around here.

Our yard was asleep, brown and dormant

for such a long, long season

with a sleepy monochromatic view.

Then it rained.

And the temperature climbed.

And overnight, all things became new.

New life opening pathways in soil

making space for fresh growth.

Looks like spring is here.

Sounds like Easter:

an invitation to start over.

To be made new.

The tomb was like the 3 day dormant winter.

All hope was gone, it seemed.

But dormant is different than dead.

There was something going on well below the surface

that eyes could not see.

The legal rights to sin, sickness and disease were taken back.

Life was awakened from the tomb.

Life that overcame death.

And with gentle, meditated and power filled authority

the Over comer removed the death rags

of linen gauze and folded them.

Then turned His back on the tomb to walk away.

With scars to remind of the path He chose to submit to

through the dirt, sin and disease,

he stayed clean, pure and uninfected.

Easter: an invitation to new life.

Clean.

Forgiven.

Purpose filled.

Loved.

Secure.

Sure.

New.

{The Bible,  Mark 15 and 16}

Thank you for stopping by.

Happy Resurrection Weekend!

Deborah

fairy tales, pink tulle, ponies and truth

We have all heard these words:

"When I grow up, I want...

"I want to be a mommy."

"I want to live on a farm and have lots of white ponies!"

"I want..."

A little girl with young dreams.

Fairy tales of continuous delight with sunshine filled days

roaming fields of flowers in dresses of tulle and sparkles

and living happily ever afters...

Sharing a beautiful castle

 with prince charming

who, by the way, never has to shave 

but seems at least on the screen to always have a baby soft face

and of course, never, bad breath

filled with attention, love and never ending devotion

for his one and only priority, her, his princess.

The castle doesn't have clogged toilets, empty cupboards,  

cable tv, blaring radios or the internet to connect 

to the world outside the thickly cushioned walls.

And she never has PMS or any other ailment.

Well, except Sleeping Beauty, but, of course her issue with sleep

was cured by a kiss from a prince...

Pretty easy fix once he got there.

There is no dust.

Well, except fairy dust, 

whatever that is.

Please understand, I am not anti-Cinderella.

I LOVE the story of Cinderella, 

Beauty and the Beast,

Pinocchio and The Little Mermaid, etc

Adore them.

There are so many good things that I am reminded of

in each story.

Patience, forgiveness, 

the power of Love to break curses

and bring healing and restoration,

how other's word have the potential to 

 control me like the small wooden boy's strings

and how lies will always, always come out in the end...

Ursula... ugh.

But somewhere in the story I missed the daily realities

of chores, sickness and cleaning up after pooping ponies.

I grew up with ponies, believe me, they poop.

*disclaimer I just said poop on a pretty blog.  I'm so sorry if this offends, not my intention.  :]

Oh my!

 What did I learn as a child from an escape from reality childhood?

And then spend a chunk of a lifetime unlearning all of it.

I love beauty, order and all things lovely

but somehow I feel like I am promoting a fairy tale 

if I only speak of the icing on the cake.

In this blog, 

if I only share pretty photos and leave out

a dose of foundation truths that coincides with them

I feel like I'm flying around in the clouds with no landing gear.

Fluffy clouds.

Just fluffy clouds

Hope is beautiful.

Faith is believing it could be.

Love does conquer all.

Gotta go.

Dust is calling!

Thank God, no more ponies ;]

Have a blessed and really {for real} beautiful day! 

Deborah

{pure} clear, simple

{pure} clear, simple

{intentional}

{open}

{pure}

{having purpose}

{quality}

{streamlined}

{focused}

blessings,

deborah

images: the web

simple {and yet veiled} treasure

I can hear treasure.

It is piping through speakers in malls.

Whispering in elevators in hotels.

Floating through airwaves in airports and shopping malls.

Can you hear it?

It's sound is soft and gentle and it's easiest to hear

when I slow down and listen.

It is an ocean of guidance, truth and wisdom.

Something much deeper than the 

tiny to scale performance platforms

and faux trappings of wealth, titles, 

position and power that so many of us reach for.

With it comes peace and joy.

Hope.

A gift

all wrapped up in the melody of a song.

Can you hear it?

Perhaps you live in a place that these songs are not common

but would like to hear them.

And even where it is common to play these songs

many do not hear. 

Sometimes I don't hear because my mind is full of movement.

Tasks. To do lists. Typical stuff.

Stuff.  Yes, holiday stuff.

Holiday stuffing is best for dinner

or as a verb, best for stockings.

So I have to intentionally slow down and be quiet so I can hear.

It sounds something like this:

"Joy to the world. The Lord is come.

 Let earth receive her King.

Let every heart prepare Him room...

He rules the world with truth and grace

and makes the nations prove 

the glories of his righteousness and wonders of His love..."

And then: "Come and behold him

born the King of angels...

Glory to God in the highest...

Jesus to Thee be all glory given.

Word of the Father, now in flesh appearing.

O come let us adore Him,

O come let us adore Him,

O come let us adore Him,

Christ the Lord."

May your Christmas be warmed

 by truly hearing the eternal truths in song 

throughout every road you travel!

deborah

mud pies, a front porch and an invisible tiara

Our Front Porch

I'm the cute chubby one on the far left.

Meet my sisters and little brother

( he's the one with the mud) 

with a few neighbor girls sprinkled in as well.

It was a warm summer afternoon and my mother was home

so she snapped a picture.

She wasn't always home.

Sometimes she left.

The reasons why she left...

I am not fully qualified to speculate on that.

I'd like to.

To be honest.

To be real.

Sometimes she wanted to leave and other times she had to.

Some say one thing and others say another.

All I know is my perception and tainted memories which I am certain that neither are fully accurate...

kind of like the mud on our feet.

We all have a different perspective.

Those that were there and even those that loyally defend 

though they were not there.

Muddy beginnings 

don't always have to make for a muddy life.

Sometimes to see beyond 

 surroundings and believe, 

if only for a moment

that there is something bigger, something better

 beyond their limited and darkened reality.

Sometimes life gets muddy.

We can choose.

Yes, choose.

Some don't choose.

They just keep playing in the mud, 

occasionally wondering if there is a better way

but not having a clue which direction to go 

or even how to start moving out of a camp beyond their reality.

But for me it was a choice:

wear it or wipe it off.

I wish that this front porch could talk though.

'Front porch speaks'

Wouldn't that be interesting?

I'd read it.

This front porch was at one time the home of 

Philip and Margaret, parents of my grandfather.

The stories that it could tell.  

I may learn something if I could only hear it.

Family gatherings on Sunday afternoons,

enjoying great grandmother's lilac shrubs, olive tree, 

apricot and cherry trees,

courageously sending a son off to war

lives during terrible uncertainty and the depression era...

After my great grandparents passed away 

the property contents were sold at an auction.

I remember looking through a kitchen junk drawer 

that was open for display of items during the auction.

Old thimbles, wooden spools of thread, tools...

I remember seeing that drawer as absolutely intriguing.

I looked at those little discarded bobs and bits with awe

realizing that they were remaining little pieces representing

the daily, normal and routine lives of people, my heritage.

I was too young to appreciate history or people or things that way.

But I remember wishing that Great-Grandma could have shown me how to sew, how to use those thimbles and old mismatched thread.

I guess some would say am an old soul.

I am sure of a few things, though.

I remember her purple iris flowers out under a tree by the back ally.

And my little brother and I used to play in the old 57 Chevy

pretending that we could drive and toured for hours.

I am sure that the tree halfway to the barn was apricot.

I was traumatized by it's fruit one summer 

after I took a bite of a juicy ripe apricot

chewing and swallowing.

Then looked down to take another bite 

and saw 1/2 of a worm squiggling around where I had just bit.

Yes, unfortunately,  I am sure of a few things.

{junque shed}

I remember where I came from

 and I do not want to forget.

There is value in the muddy day memories and stories.

They help keep me grounded so that I can help others 

who need a rescue, too. 

He really does give beauty for ashes.

But ashes are the result of a fire.

I had to let go of it.

Beyond praying or giving it to Him.

I had to let go.

This front porch home literally went up in flames 

years after we moved out of it.

But there are memories of things that happened in that house, around that house that I believe once offered to God for His 

re-purposing, are bringing the hope of beauty to others lives, 

encouragement to people who feel trapped by labels, words,

 fears, like they have no choice but to wear it.

{rescue  rethink  repurpose}

It's a passion to share my journey where Love and Truth

led me out of the mud puddle,

told me who I really was,

 gave me a hope and a future

and the tenacious stubbornness, in a good way, to believe it

for myself and for every single person on the planet.

In the end what else really matters?

If it's not living fully alive,

 knowing Love 

and living Love

then what?

Just last week I was sitting around a table and a relative said

"All these people going around talking about love...

Love. Love. Love.  They say love out of one side of their mouth

and then they don't show love...hypocrites. 

 They are all a bunch of hypocrites"

I said "You know, I think you are right.

To some measure or another we are all hypocrites

if the standard is to love all the time, to be perfect in it.

Because we are human, it is impossible for us, alone.

I think authentic love needs the Source of love."

I am thankful for mud, front porch stories and a repurposed life.

deborah

aaaedqaaaaqwerrrrrraaaadf