Alive!

I've been quiet for a while. Trying to cope with life, recover from mono, care for my ever-amusing three-year-old, and feeling less-than-inspired. But I've been here. Silently sitting back, watching, reading, waiting, journeying... processing things that have come our way, seeking answers, direction, patience, and peace. And in the midst of it all... He's been there. Steadfast and strong, providing, protecting, renewing our joy, giving us hope and keeping us laughing. Jesus. 

So it seems appropriate, on this Easter Sunday, to break the silence on this blog with the only thing really worth saying. May these words, and the video that follows, draw you to the ONE who made you, who gave you life. May you know the truth this Easter, and fall on your knees as Mercy grips you.

"Alive" - Natalie Grant

Who but You, could breathe and leave a trail of galaxies and dream of me?
What kind of Love is writing my story till the end with Mercy’s pen?
Only You.

 
What kind of king would choose to wear a crown that bleeds and scars to win my heart?
What kind of Love tells me I’m the reason He can’t stay inside the grave?
You. Is it You? Standing here before my eyes, every part of my heart cries

Alive! Alive! Look what Mercy’s overcome; Death has lost and Love has won
Alive! Alive! Hallelujah, Risen Lord, the only One I fall before
I am His because He is alive.

Who could speak, and send the demons back from where they came with just one Name?
What other heart would let itself be broken every time till He healed mine?
You. Only You could turn my darkness into dawn; running right into Your arms

Alive! Alive! Look what Mercy’s overcome; Death has lost and Love has won
Alive! Alive! Hallelujah, Risen Lord, the only One I fall before
I am His because He is...

Emmanuel, the promised King the baby who made angels sing
Son of Man who walked with us, healing, breathing in our dust
The author of all history, the answer to all mysteries
The Lamb of God who rolled away, the stone in front of every grave

Alive! Alive! Look what Mercy’s overcome; Death has lost and Love has won
Alive! I am His because He is alive.
Alive!

Thankful

Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful. Let the message of Christ dwell among you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom through psalms, hymns, and songs from the Spirit, singing to God with gratitude in your hearts. And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him. ~Colossians 3:15-17

Sunday Sanctuary

"Praise the Lord. How good it is to sing praises to our God, how pleasant and fitting to praise him! He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. He determines the number of the stars and calls them each by name. Great is our Lord and mighty in power; his understanding has no limit." (Psalm 147:1,3-5)

Potty Training With God

I recently wrote this for work and thought I'd share it here to:

I’ll admit it, I am a control freak. From the little things to the big details of life, I need control. And while being someone who is “in control” is not necessarily a bad thing, I have come to learn that my controlling ways often mean that I leave little room for God.

This has never been more true for me than it has in the past month. You see, I’m currently in the throes of potty-training… or at least I’d like to be. Never in my life have I felt more “out of control” about anything than this. There have been tears , sleepless nights, messes, battles of will, and moments when my “mommy-patience” has been completely exhausted. I’m sad to say that I’ve been ashamed by my attitude and behaviour in my attempts to convince our daughter that she’s a big girl now, and the control freak in me feels like a complete and utter failure. I have even found myself longing to be free from this burdensome challenge.

But then this past Sunday, while sitting in church listening to our pastor talk about “getting out of the way” and “inviting God’s presence in,” it occurred to me. With all the books, expert advice and research I’d done, my desire to control this area of my daughter’s life has left little room for God to work. I’ll admit, it does seem strange to invite God in to the potty training process, but the truth of the matter is that I can’t do it without Him.

In his letter to the church in Corinth, Paul writes that “where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.” In my case, inviting the Holy Spirit in and letting God work does not mean freedom from my responsibility as a parent. But it does mean freedom from the anxiety, frustration, and feelings of utter helplessness. “I can do all things through Him who gives me strength.” (Phillippians 4:13)

So, here's to a whole new kind of potty training adventure as this control freak mom let's go and let's God. Allowing Him in doesn't mean my darling daughter will suddenly "get it" and "do it", but it does mean that I'll rest in His patience, His wisdom, and His love as I guide her through the process. In that there is freedom.

2 Corinthians 3:17 “… where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.”

Sunday Sanctuary

Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin; and yet I say to you that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. Now if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is, and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will He not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? (Matthew 6:28-30 NKJV)

Image captured by Anika Lacerte.

Sunday Sanctuary

All new, from my favourite artist ever... Steven Curtis Chapman. 

The extraordinary in the midst of the ordinary, and a reminder to do it all -- from laundry to potty training -- for HIM!

As alwasy, "thank you Steven for inspiring me once again!"

Mom to the Rescue

I have a new title; one that won’t mean a whole lot to you. But to my daughter, it means everything.

Allow me to introduce myself: I am Super-Mom, Scrump Remover Extraordinaire.

What is a scrump? Well, that depends on who you ask.

According to UrbanDictionary.com, a “scrump” is anything from the act of stealing apples, to having sex. (Yes, sex. Apparently “screw” and “hump” joined forces to become “scrump.” What a sad, sad commentary on the decay of our English language. But I digress...). The Free Online Dictionary, says that a “scrump” is something withered or shriveled or dried up.

However to my almost-three-year-old daughter, the word “scrump” has come to define anything she sees that she doesn’t like. Whether it be a fleck of lint on her shirt or pants, a microscopic thread from fabric between her toes, or a teeny, tiny piece of vegetable or even finely diced herbs in her pasta or rice, when Abbie whines that there’s a “scrump”, Super-Mom flies to the rescue.

Scrump removing is very serious business in our house, or at least it is to our daughter. While my husband and I do our best to stifle our laughter at each battle Super-Mommy has with the latest scrump, to Abbie each encounter with a scrump is monumental, cataclysmic, and dramatic. After all, she’s two-going-on-three, and while she may not understand the U.S. debt crisis, tumbling stock markets or famines in Africa, she does understand scrumps. She also knows that her mommy is always there.

This is my extraordinary calling. 

Now what did I do with my cape?

Image by The Doodle Girl

Milestones

I've been silent for the past few days, with good reason. Potty training has finally arrived to the Lau house, and I am pleased to say that it has finally taken hold. We've celebrated success after success with our little girl, and encountered few accidents. I've sat misty-eyed watching her push aside the last of what made her my baby, and enter into this first stage of true independence. One step closer to womanhood. 

As I reflected on how much she is changing, and the accomplishments she's acheived this week, I found myself starting to wonder even more than usual who she will grow up to be. What she will do with her life, whom she will love. 

And then, like in so many occassions before, the Lord led me to read today's post from Ann Voskamp. Once again, her words are timely for me. I join her in this prayer... for a daughter. 

Here is a portion of what she wrote.... You can read the rest of it HERE.

May she be bread and feed many with her life and her laughter
May she be thread and mend brokeness and knit hearts
May she be dead to all ladders & never go higher,
only lower, to the lonely, the least & the longing
Her led of the Spirit to lead many to the Cross
that leads to the tomb wildly empty.

 

Sunday Sanctuary

My form of worship is music. It is through music that the Spirit speaks to me. It is through music that my sould is refreshed. Music is how I pray; how I commune with the Almighty. 

On this Sunday, I find Sanctuary in music once again. From the hymns, to the new and popular praise and worship music, I dance, I sing, I reflect and I pray. 

Among the many, many artists I enjoy, young and old, I am a fan of the powerful vocals of David Phelps. I recently came across his song, "The End of the Beginning" and had to share it here. It is the power of the Gospel, the very purpose for which Jesus came, wrapped up in a power song. Enjoy.


I was takin’ a trip on a plane the other day
just wishin’ that I could get out
When the man next to me saw the book in my hand
and asked me what it was about
So I settled back in my seat
a best seller I said
a history, a mystery in one
and then I opened up the book and began to read
from Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John

He was born of a virgin one holy night
in the little town of Bethlehem
angels gathered round him underneath the stars
singing praises to the great I Am
He walked on the water, healed the lame, and made the blind to see again
and for the first time here on earth we learned that God could be a friend
and though he never ever did a single thing wrong
the angry crowd chose him and then he walked down the road
and died on the cross and that was the end of the beginning

That’s not a new book that’s a bible he said and I’ve heard it all before
I’ve tried religion its shame and guilt and I don’t need it anymore
It’s superstition made up tales and just to help the weak to survive
Let me read it again I said listen closely, this is gonna change your life

He was born of a virgin one holy night
in the little town of Bethlehem
angels gathered round him underneath the stars
singing praises to the great I Am
He walked on the water, healed the lame, and made the blind to see again
and for the first time here on earth we learned that God could be a friend
and though he never ever did a single thing wrong
the angry crowd chose him and then he walked down the road
and died on the cross and that was the end of the beginning

The end of the beginning he said with a smile
what more could there be? He’s dead.
you said they hung him put nails in his hands
and a crown of thorns on his head
I said I'll read it again but this time there’s more
and I believe that this is true
his death wasn’t the end, the beginning of life
that’s completed in you
don’t you see he did all this for you!

He was born of a virgin one holy night
in the little town of Bethlehem
all the angels singing praises to the great I Am
He walked on the water, healed the lame, and made the blind to see
and for the first time here on earth did you know that God could be a friend
and though he never did a single thing wrong
he was the one the crowd chose and then he walked, and he died,
but three days later, three days later, three days later, HE ROSE!!!!!!!!
three days later HE ROSE!!!!!!!!

You see he came, he lived, and he died
but that was the end of the beginning 

Humbly Grateful

I sit, belly full from a wonderful breakfast; warm mug of coffee sending wafts of aromatic steam up to my nostrils. Apart from the simple word of thanks uttered at the family table, gratefulness for the comfort which envelopes me is far from my mind. 

And then I read this: When Food Becomes a Hallowed Thing, and I am on my knees. 

Hands raised in thanksgiving to a Father who has blessed us with abundance. Heart full of gratitude for the happy, healthy, child I often fight with just to eat what's on her plate. My mind travels to Africa, and the many who are suffering. Tears threaten to spill as I think of the mother cradling her young one, thin and malnourished. A child who has known nothing but suffering; slipping away in silence, too weak to even cry. 

Lord, forgive me for not remembering them. Forgive me for taking what we have for granted. Teach me to be humbly grateful, and to give of what I have...

Want to help? The Canadian Government is matching dollar-for-dollar donations to the faminine relief. You can donate through organizations like World Vision, Samaritan's Purse, The Red Cross, etc.