You've NOT done it unto Me...

I’m not sure if my lunch lost its flavor when my Father stopped me dead in my tracks or if it was happenstance. It was one of those moments when I realized with certainty I had failed. I had failed my Father, myself and the woman I watched walking down the aisle to the buffet.

I know her. Her smile is one like an angel’s, her eyes like pools of chocolate. The prettiest eyes a human could wish for. See, I went to school for twelve years with her. This particular girl, I will call her Ruth (not her name) was in special ed. Most didn’t seem to befriend her although there may have been people who did. I spoke in passing but I never got to know her. You know, there’s that hierarchal social ladder that is forever in place in school. I hate that ladder, by the way….

Anyone who knows me knows I was always the kid for the underdog and if you were smart you didn’t and still won’t make fun of anyone in my presence that has any kind of disability or oddity about them. I didn’t and don't really care if it's the poor kid being picked on or the kid who was ostracized because no one liked the sound of his laugh or the kid who smelled really bad because he was neglected by parents; make fun…and I can become as mad as a hornet in a flash. I have a heart for people who don’t fit in and sometimes that lands me in trouble.

Forward to the present…The minute I saw her, something stirred in me. There was that little voice that resonates in the quietest of ways… “She’s one of mine. What did you do for her? Why didn’t you be her friend?” The questions hammered against my heart like a beater on a bass drum. I had no answers. Questions kept flooding my mind. “Did she realize we didn’t include her? Did she notice that she was snubbed? Was she lonely? Why did I not be a REAL friend to her?” I felt utterly and completely ashamed. It’s these moments that make me wish the clock could be reversed and have a do-over dial. I have the feeling, me being her friend probably wouldn’t have been any where near as rich of an encounter as having HER be MY friend. Truth is, she may have been perfectly happy and contented, and that still would not excuse my failure to befriend her.

I followed her to the food bar, spoke to her, reminded her of where I knew her from, and told her I wish I had taken the time to know her better in school; very little in comparison to what should have been… There’s much more to this woman than I saw walking the halls of the school. Honestly, I hope the feelings of guilt stay with me for a long time…reminding me, every person counts. Every person deserves to be given a chance to belong.

I’ll look more closely at the people I meet. I don’t want to stand guilty again knowing “When you’ve NOT done it unto the least of these you’ve NOT done it unto Me” -Yahushua.

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Window Grime

Who would think windows would make me stop and ponder over my relationship with my Father? Looking out this morning I had a “grab the camera and get outside urge”. See, I thought that finally the “gorgeous, morning mist cutting through the sunshine, for the pic of the fence next door”, morning had arrived. It was then that I noticed it. My windows were creating the misty look. Upon closer observation I found I could even create lovely little twirly doodles on my windows with my fingers. Uh-oh…time to clean. (The picture to the left, represents one clean and one unclean window...what a difference.)

While I was cleaning I started thinking. How easy it is to let pollution gather on my soul. Sometimes, it just kind of sneaks in there, a little at a time, and like my windows, after a while, it becomes unclean. In the darkness of night, those windows look fine to me, reflecting the things around them and clearly anyone outside can see in; can see what’s going on in my home. But, in the morning light, when the sun hits the glass, all the imperfections (in this case, downright filth) clearly showed up. I’m pretty sure the film on the glass stopped a certain amount of light from coming through and into my home. But what really sticks out to me is the thought that came next. When these windows are dirty, polluted, holding the grime from a winter’s worth of heating, dust, and everyday living they don’t allow the light from within, to fully fall on the yard just outside of them. They’re dimmed, and not spilling out their full potential. It’s not that I've never cleaned them. Trust me, I have. But, from simple everyday living, they have to be cleaned, over, and over again.

You know, that’s similar to the way we work spiritually. When our light becomes hindered, by the things that weigh us down, no matter what they are, we can’t reach our full potential to be the light our Father wants us to be. More so than those windows, our soul needs to be washed and cleaned of everyday living. The windows? Oh, they need cleaning only every so often. Our souls? Continually.

...Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what your Father's will is—His good, pleasing and perfect will.

"Come Play in the Rain With Me"

My cell phone vibrates. On the line is my boy. A sheepish sounding voice raised the question, "Mom, will you come play in the rain with me?" It's dark, it's cold. The first day or I might should say, night of February, and my son, wants me to play in the rain with him. This wasn’t normal. Had I been a prude, had I reasoned why I shouldn't (I've been sick, a lot lately, and I can't seem to feel 100%, ever it seems like) I might have missed one of the best nights of my life...but instead, I gave him an "Alright, Codeman, I'll play in the rain with you."

And then I realized I was smiling. See at fourteen, almost fifteen, my boy isn’t always concerned with doing things with me. His is a world of music, friends and skating. Sometimes it seems hard to get into that world with him. But for a time, it was him, me, the sound of raindrops pelting on our hoods, squishy footsteps, and the sound of his voice, sharing the things that are going on his world. Not a lot needed to be said on my part. This was one of those, “I know I’m here to listen not advise” times. (Well, I didn’t stay totally quiet...lol :)

Growing up is hard. Sometimes I forget, amidst the dirty clothes, the dirty dishes, and the gruff attitude, is my boy, doing his best to find his way. And while he is sorting out the good from the bad, learning to deal with the pain that comes with experiences derived from growing up, learning his life lessons, every now and then, all jumbled together, I get a glimpse a little boy playing with cars in the dirt and a glimpse of the man he is becoming.

So the next time I hear, “Will you come play in the rain with me?” without a second thought, I’ll reach for my raincoat and walk out the door...

SEASONS

Seasons.

I've been thinking a lot about seasons lately. Whether it's because of the unusually wet and cold winter we're having, mixed with so many people making their desire for greener pastures known, or simply because I feel like I'm at a seasonal change in my own life, I'm not completely sure. I'm searching but I'm also trying to be still, be quiet and listen for His direction.

~And he changes the times and the seasons: he removes kings, and sets up kings: he gives wisdom to the wise, and knowledge to them that know understanding: (Daniel 2:21 AKJV)

~To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace. (Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 AKJV)

One thing I am certain, my path has crossed with people that will forever have changed me and anchored into my soul that there are lives waiting; waiting for someone to be the hands and feet of Jesus to them. I rest with certainty that Jesus was clear to Peter when three times He instructed him to "feed my sheep" even to the end of leaving the ninety and nine to search for the "one". The "one" who may be waiting for his or her season; whether a season to receive the planting of seed, a season for bloom or a season for harvest. The "one" who is "one" in the sea of souls that make up The Great Commission.

I know that there are lessons I've learned, and verses that have burned into my heart over and over again through the last month or so. So for now, I will wait and listen for the voice that I've learned to recognize, and trust that I'll be sensitive enough to see when a new season has begun.