NEED a SPEAKER for an Event?

I have taken a break from posting here at FAITH FUEL in order to pursue other possibilities of communicating the Good News to my friends far and wide. (Hint, hint- how about hearing my posts and not just reading my words?I'm looking into doing Video-blogging or what you call vlogging). While I am transitioning to new avenues of communicating with you all, please know that I am available to speak at Women's Events, Retreats, and Conferences.

Please see my Speaking site for more information:

http://laurencaldwell.wordpress.com/

God bless you all richly!

Just Down the Road

My posting has been less frequent--and let's face it: It appears I'm winding down, closing up shop, moving onward, and heading down the road to the point that I'll soon be out of sight. And probably out of mind. Out of your mind, hopefully--not mine!

Maybe it's just a summer sabbatical I need or maybe I need a complete overhaul of my life. But in any case, I think a break from writing will be good for me. I think I need to try some new things and contemplate some new ideas and simmer them deep within me before I share them out loud or on paper or on this blog.

So you might not hear from me for a while. You can always read some of my old posts on topics that interest you. (see Topics listed on the sidebar). Or you can step out on the road, like me, and venture down the road, beyond familiar territory, and explore the unknown and wander into some unexpected blessing or an unexpected place of peace or ministry. The world is waiting for your unique touch. God has meaningful and surprising work for you to do.

You'll discover it....as you go.

The No and the Nod of God

I haven't been posting as much, lately--I know. But I've been having a sort of mini revival--all thanks to recently discovering anew that God's No is not the same as God's frown. I suddenly feel so loved and protected, in spite of all the No's I've had.

God's No is not such a bad thing, I've been discovering. But No is not a word we normally enjoy or appreciate.

Think of it: when you were a child and you reached out for something and heard a severe "No!" it was probably not an enjoyable experience. There might have been a No to dessert, a No to getting a toy, a No to going to a party. We remember the No's. And yes, of course, your parents (hopefully) said No to protect you: No to touching hot stoves, No to walking alone at Night, No to staying past curfew, etc etc. But still, a No is not a word we heartily embrace.

The word "No" has gotten a bad rep. And lately I've been discovering that when God says No, He might just be saying "I love you too much to let you go through that door....at least right now." Sometimes No is "Not yet" and sometimes God's No is a resounding Alarm not too unlike the clanging fire alarm that goes off because a call comes into the local fire station that some bo-bo has set their kitchen on fire because they had their dish towel too close to the stove (I have never done that, but I have set my hair on fire when I leaned too close to the candle, once. But no fire truck was needed, thank you).

When God says No it could often mean an indirect Yes to something else--something you don't YET have in mind, but God does. God always has your Best in mind when He answers you. Because He knows the plans He has for you (Jer. 29:11).

Lately I've had a renewed enthusiasm in coming to God in prayer and discovering that I really don't care whether he says No or nods Yes--I just care that He cares, that He bends down to listen to me...and that His Answer is always perfect, always in my best interest. Sometimes it takes me awhile to figure out His answer.

But one thing I know for sure: I'm begining to appreciate and love the No and the Nod of God...because I know that He loves me.

Have a Blessed Celebration of Resurrection Sunday!

May you live the life of an overcomer because of the One who overcame death.

Above It All

I just launched a missile...I mean, wrote a lengthy missive to my 21 year old son, just now. It was one of those letters where you're trying to get things off your chest, so to speak, and trying to communicate love and acceptance at the same time. I felt like I was going through this hole in the rock, and didn't know how I was going to come out or come across.

I've been operating, lately, out of the dregs of my post-winter reserves. Which is to say, I've got about a quarter ounce of grace left. It's time for a big gulp of joy and some rolling-on-the-floor laughter which would rekindle my sense of humor, my sense of perspective.

I feel like there's going to be the clash of the titans, what with my son coming home for the summer. He's like a tornado of creativity and joy--but a tornado, no less. There'll be a lot of flying debris, a lot of stormy discussions, much laughter, a lot of pizza making, and probably some exclamations of exasperation on my part. The four of us are all adults (well, my daughter is 16--but 16 going on 26 as far as maturity) with well-formed opinions and personalities and preferences. Harry, our dog, is the only amenable one of the bunch. He will acclimate to every situation. He is the one with grace.

I don't know when I felt my reserves running dry. Obviously Old Man Winter took the majority of my joie-de-vivre. But it's also due to the fact that my son will be graduating from college in a little over a year, and my daughter is working a summer job and talking about college choices and ready to go off to college in two years.

And here's the thing about raising children: you never see when they become adults. Oh, technically they become adults when they turn 18 and then especially at 21. But there are so many times along the way that you have to intervene and coach them through things. And there is no clear end to when you'll feel relieved enough, or settled enough, about them and the decisions they are making and the experiences they are going through.

Safety Bill and I were sitting on the couch one morning last week and I had my feet in his lap and he had his coffee mug in hand and we both had our kids on our mind. We were talking about our daughter --who rarely makes us worry about anything major. But of course we're always concerned about her emotional state, her spiritual journey, her physical health, her academic choices. And then just when we had finished discussing one particular little issue in her life, it occurred to us that every choice in her life would then affect us. It wouldn't stop at college or marriage or career. We'd never be done parenting-- or with the concern, I should say, that parents feel.

I don't know how God does it: how does He handle the weight of the world, the numerous requests coming to him night and day, day and night? I would be so weary. I AM weary, right now, just thinking about it. I'm weary and....relieved-- that He is NOT weary.

"Do you not know? Have you not heard? The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom."Is 40:28

Maybe contemplating that mystery alone--that God does not ever grow tired or overwhelmed-- will help renew my strength. Because my strength is in Him. My ability to go the distance, whether its in parenting or any other task or responsibility, can be tied into His ability to not grow weary-ever. He's fresh on the scene of our life, night and day. He refreshes weary parents. And weary wanderers.

I poured my heart out, in that letter to my son; telling him things I wanted him to know, reminding him of things I didn't want him to ever forget: things like I love him, like I believe in his ability to persevere and succeed, and that therefore I'm looking forward to what he's going to choose. I challenged him but I also reminded myself of some things as well. He's at a cross-roads of choices. But really, so am I, the biggest one being that every day I've got to choose to renew my strength or pay the price of running on empty.

But if I do remember to renew my strength in Him, this will refresh my perspective, which will give me a second wind. Sure, I'll also get pushed out further and further into the mainstream of life where the challenge of complex choices might tax me some. I'll get weary, often. But God never will-- and He's sustaining me. So, I know that there will also be those times where, once in a while, I'll get to soar on eagles' wings, above it all.

Happy New Day to You

I'd like to say this is a picture of an elegant birthday party that I threw for my husband this week. But the photo is from Traditional Home- not from my home, mainly because I didn't take any photos when we celebrated Safety Bill's Birthday. We forgot to do that. Or actually, I guess we just didn't plan on taking photos.

What we did have was a nice simple birthday dinner for him and there was chocolate cake for dessert. No candles. Come to think of it, we didn't even sing happy birthday to him. It was just my daughter, Safety Bill, and I celebrating his big day. Our son is still away at college. Harry was under the table hoping for scraps of steak.

So yeah, there wasn't a lot of hoopla or singing or decorating. But there was peace. And I gave him lots of kisses. And our daughter made him a little card. And Harry curled up on his lap later, like he was a fluffy cat instead of an old dog.

I love the fact that both Safety Bill and I have come a long way when it comes to Expectations. Life is simpler and more peaceful when your expectations are realistic. This was a mid-week birthday. Safety Bill was tired from the hard work on the job site. I wasn't feeling all that peppy myself. It's been a long winter. So we three centered in on the one good thing we could expect: being together, at the table, eating a meal, relishing the peace.

I may go all out for his birthday next year. It all depends on where we're at. But for now, each new day we get to be together is a celebration. I treasure the little things now, more than ever; things like peace, laughter, a good long talk in the morning as the sun rises, hot coffee, Harry at our feet, our daughter singing in her room, our son texting us that he did well on an exam, a cup of hot tea at night, a soft pillow, my husband's hand in mine. Sometimes I celebrate big and loudly and sometimes I enjoy the quiet celebration of another birthday, a small victory (like finally folding three baskets of laundry) and the possibilities of another new day.

Higher Ground

I had one of those light bulb moments this morning; you know, your brain is foggy, you're dutifully eating your pasty but good-for-you oatmeal, and you're looking at a Scripture verse for minutes on end while your mind is somewhere else, and then....Blink! The light is turned on.

First, though, there was coffee and a bit of "discussion" with Safety Bill this morning. I like to say we discuss things, but anyone listening in might say "That sounds more like arguing." But that's only because when I "discuss" things, I tend to get a little vehement, a little heated, and Safety Bill gets more quiet and goes on high alert--like he's thinking that the boiler pressure relief valve might let go. His thinking is Safety first. Mine is Make Way for Truth. We try to meet in the middle.


But there's no middle ground when God is pruning you. That's what I've been thinking about lately. John 15:2 alludes to some kind of "pruning" that God does in our life--like you're an apple tree and God is going to lop off a few branches. NOT! If that were the case, you would know what was going on when God was pruning you. It's easy to see the branches come off--if that were pruning.

But the Greek word here has to do with God purging your life. It's more of a vicious cleansing than a lopping off. He takes what is mixed-up in your life and un-mixes it. He removes things. He peels things away. And I'm convinced that when God is pruning, you feel more of a panic and dismay than a non-chalant attitude of "Oh, that's just God pruning me."

I don't think we have to go around pretending that we like being pruned. When we're going through a confusing, botched up situation and things are falling apart in our life, and we feel a little uncertain about what the heck is going on, and someone asks you how you're doing, we don't need to give some spiel about how wonderful it is to walk with God and be pruned. It's better to say, "I feel like I'm in a storm. I'm a bit confused as to what God is doing in my life right now. It's all a b it murky right now."

But hold on for the light bulb moment! Because at some point down the road, it WILL come on. Matthew 5:8 says, "Blessed are the PURE in heart, for they will see God." And in this case, the word PURE has the same Greek root word meaning as PRUNED: you're PURE because God has purged you, He's made you clean in your motives, He's removed undesirable elements from your life. And if you've ever prayed to see God more clearly, He'll take you up on that prayer. He'll shake up your staid life, purge things from it, remove the impure motives, and make you look like a mess all the while it's happening. (Ask Job.)

But hang in there, friend. Because blessed are the pure (and pruned and radically purged)--they're going to see God. When God has messed up your organized life a little, and torn apart your nest, and re-arranged relationships and purged addictions from your life, get ready for some major light-bulb moments. You're about to see things in a whole new light. You're about to see God. And when you do, you'll be glad that when you were this close to giving up, you didn't. Because like Job, though He slay you and purge you, yet you trust Him... to see you through.

Between Two Worlds

I've just spent the last hour trying to clean out my email inbox. (I'm still getting these warnings that the mailbox is precariously full, though.) This is more a statement about my inability to make quick decisions about what is necessary and what is superfluous in life, than it is a question of pressing the delete button over and over. These are the things that weigh us down in life--I'm convinced of that. When your garbage cans and email inboxes are overflowing, it means things have caught up with you.

I've got more than spring cleaning on my mind, lately. It seems like it's time for me to do a little soul searching too; or maybe you would call it a re-balancing, like the way they re-balance the tires on your car so that uneven weight distribution doesn't cause noticeable vibrations.

I've spent a bit of time over the last week reviewing some news stories and videos about the Japanese people and their state of emergency after the earthquake and tsunami. They are not dealing with petty things like cleaning out email inboxes. They are dealing with issues of survival. They are trying to find someplace solid on which to stand. They're looking for lost loved ones and dealing with a death toll that some say is hovering near 22,000.

What can I learn from the Japanese? They are going through hell right now. They are learning to cope, to endure, to overcome. Everything is critical in their life right now.

I do not face these same challenges. But I'm called to the same actions of persevering, enduring, overcoming. In light of their overwhelming pain right now, the light bulb has gone on in my brain: it's called Perspective. I see things differently. I realize that I have some challenges in life, but I am not challenged to the point of death and despair. I realize that there are things I don't want to do in life, but I am not dealing with the daunting undesirable task of searching through dead bodies so that I can identify a loved one. I'm not in a season of crisis. I'm not, in any way, at the end of my rope, so to speak.

So on behalf of those who are in crisis, I contribute to the Red Cross relief efforts through my local grocery store. But more than that, I pray--for divine help, miraculous strength, a way...where there seems to be no way. And then I also set my mind about how I will deal with the challenges in my life. I want to have the right attitude, the right undercurrent of thought about every big and small problem: this is just an obstacle, a minor issue, a relational blip, a financial challenge; and I can deal with this.

It's not a feeling of guilt that teaches me this perspective. And it's not so much relief either--relief that I'm not living through the aftermath of catastrophe-- but it's the understanding that in between those two opposing worlds of guilt and relief is the healthy balance of an appreciation for Life, sweet and full, messy and frustrating, challenging and precious.

I think our Japanese friends would tell us this, that when all is said and done, a hand in yours, an embrace of comfort, an understanding look, a listening ear--these are the things we all cherish, no matter what season of life we're in. This is what Life is--the flow and the undertow, the crisis and the calm after the storm, and everything else in between that makes us look up for help and then reach out for those around us.... gratefully.