there, your treasure

treasure

is buried

leaves, dirt, rocks, sand - mess

And you believe, it's better that way:



part of it's worth is in the planning

the dig, the find

the raising up and glory of it

as it crests the edge of the earth and is lifted above



settled for a life of dirt?

settling in the dirt,

sifting through - down to a laden trunk's temporary bed

Seeking and found by the One that is sought.





searching & finding with Em & more at:

Compassion: It begins with a child. It begins with you.

It's 7am.
Me - I'm dragging my tired body out of bed. I worked late last night.

Shaking off sleep, and remnant threads of depression luring me back to the seeming safety of a bed. Bringing this 'vessel' of me, what feels like a bag of bones to the bathroom vanity - I'm praying 'Your will, not mine, be done'. And I put on the coffee. I make oatmeal ... delicious.

Getting up, to look more like my Lord. Who compells the body to move - the mind to think - the heart to beat and love.

He wills that I move, and asks 'will you take me at My word - whatever I say?'

Today, and every day before this - get up. It's Sunday so I will go to worship with other Christians in the morning and later head to work with a nice big coffee for the evening.

Great still - it's September 26th, and here at Following After You we are briefly partnering with Compassion Canada's Compassion Sunday.

Even though I'm nervous, deadly apathy terrifies me more. I have felt its wasting tug. And it's siren song that bids to give up life - that life to the full promised by Christ.

I have been sponsoring a child through Compassion Canada for five years in Jesus' name.

Slum you see here was my home during the summer of 2006. It is home to over 2 million people.

That red soil - burdened with raw, flowing sewage are as much a reality as the floor beneath your feet now.

The limited, unclean water and lake-fish, sitting for hours beneath unbroken sun and clouds of flies, are as real as the meal you last ate.

In this place of poverty and places similar around the world though, God does His restoring work - beauty building in the broken: in the material lack of developing nations, and in the lacks of my own heart that many comforts other than Christ pacify.

It was in 2006, that I held Pauline in my sight - and then in my arms - and then on my lap as we ate a meal together; the small Kenyan girl whom I'd only know just over a year, through letters, photos and crayon drawings.

It is my great honour to be acquainted to this young girl and to sponsor her through Compassion. I am one of many in her community supporting her as she grows: assisting with her needs of food and water as they grow scarce, the provision of healthcare, education and a knowledge of the loving and compelling God, Jesus Christ. With a lessened burden from school costs and supplemental food, Pauline's mother was able to go to school for early childhood education and is now serving in her community.

Poverty. It is overwhelming, insurmountable by our human desire, incomprehensible and at worst, deadening. Daily, my call is to confront the Lord with my own failure to partcipate. Sponsoring a child was an intimidating prospect when I first began as a university student.

But, the sisterly bond that has grown between Pauline and I over the years - as I know the joy of the Lord who drew us both into our friendship, timidity no longer lingers.

This is opportunity. Life, and joy and:

Compassion: It begins with a child. It begins with me. It begins with you.

in Jesus' name.

For more wanderings, thoughts, prayer and information, please visit: http://www.compassion.ca/

none spectacular

There is nothing spectacular about these bushes before me through the window of this coffee shop; with sporadic, springing branches, see-sawing in the summer's end breeze, with August-sun drawn green-gold leaves. They aren't pretty, at all.
But I am comforted by these terribly humble, jagged leaves and the living life they whisper - of a summer growing and tales of warmth in the sun. Their thick and full is waning, the branches of the bush dip and bend, down toward the rest that comes of winter. Dead blooms, withered, hang.
There is nothing speactacular about these bushes.
Yet, they are quiet talking teachers still - professing to any who will wonder long, breeching the 20 minute lingering limit of the shop. Witnesses of the summer's Sun, preachers of bold and right growth, however wiley and sporadic; told in hues that will only ever be fair.

And now, dying deaths without wild witness.

Christ, gentle hand to the bent, broken and pale - liberator of seed, that life to the full might be plentiful to us. He is near.



giving thanks.

if I didn't know I have nothing...

I'd never learn how sweet the rain and wind are
even if it messes your hair.

I'd never notice the dance of light on rock,
as a sweet answer to prayer.

I'd never know the delight it is,
to be embraced and to embrace.

I'd never be drawn to You,
to satisfy, to teach, to lay and learn in listen

I'd never know that You are - Everything;
without You, no being.



Joining Em & Ann today - broken, cracked for He pours out.

peace to you this weekend, in His fullness.


Enjoy a favorite song :)

experience celebration

neither you, nor I are likely to know what you'll get when I hit the kitchen.

And it just kills my mother, who loves the 'recipe',

that her child might regard it simply as a rough 'guideline'.

So it happened when I started my birthday cake this year-

that turned into a pie, of no-consequence.

hunting through cupboards and fridge with my nose for all that gives great, unique delight

lemons and blueberries and chocolate;

et, ma piece - nuts. Candied nuts.

and I served this, to other people... who humbly received the offering of, "what did you say that was again?"

finishing with a, "that was an experience".

Ha! Blessed!

To the God who, creates, giver of time to think, and roll and bake;

maker of willy-nillies in the kitchen,

and life,

and friends who will submit themselves to trying a piece of you-pie ;)

walk

When I read you, watch you
other-steppers and faith-walking seekers, followers of the Way:
I see all the ways we are walking before Him
Not many ways to -
For there is One and only One.
But how many ways to fall and crawl into His outpouring of mercy!
And lap like a wee kitten to its spill of milk…
Or a thirsting man lapping at puddle-side in drought.

When anxiety rises at the breadth of my gait - the measure of my steps
And, if they are good and right and true?
I need only remind myself to trip into your grace.
So remembrance rinses away pretense and pride-
And Fills and envelops with you, Graceful Master, Gentle Lord.

what you need to say.

Its hard to say what you mean,
because you take life elsewhere - higher.
Away from the common murk -
from easy, trite conversation
and into the holy of Truth:

Where sin mettles,
where grace might prevail should you lay beneath it,
and where love between us, and God is real.

What you need to say is simple -
and that's why it's profound;
it's why you stand uneasy in it,
for we are complicated in our depravity.


prayers for you and me dear ones, entering new chapters of fellowship - in spirit and in truth.
Happy September :)



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