I’m a bit fascinated by the concept of Prayer Wheels. Put somewhat simplistically, a Prayer Wheel is cylindrical collection of Buddhist mantras wrapped around a central core that turns (usually clockwise) so that every time it makes a full revolution, the virtue (“merit”) of those scripted prayers are incurred by the one who turns it. It’s generally recommended that the practitioner use a form of meditation at the same time, but I’ve read that, even in a distracted state of mind, merit is still obtained. The more it is turned, the more benefit is received. This from Lamayeshe.com: Continue reading “The wheel keeps turning, but am I going anywhere? (Prayer journal, cont…)”
You know the typical story of the excited grandparent that buys their 5-month-old grandchild a full-size baseball glove?
Yeah, that’s us. We are now decidedly in that category.
Bob recently had a delightful conversation with our eldest granddaughter, soon to turn the ripe old age of four. Her mom is just so amazingly great about taking her to museums and using so many available resources for their Precious One’s brain development! And, since Grandpa teaches biology at our local college, naturally a little course on “cells” has been on the educational menu of late.
Precious One has decided that microscopes are all the rage right now. So, in an effort to take advantage of this current (and momentary) interest, I thought it prudent to send her a toy representation. Of course, the one I picked out was W-A-Y too juvenile…according to the Professor. Continue reading “Grandparenting 101.”
You walk out to go to work and the front tire is flat. Or you’re welcoming the new pastor to your deliciously prepared Thanksgiving dinner only to remember (while on the doorstep) that he’s vegetarian.
Okay, those are actually easy ones. How about your son calls from college and his girlfriend is now pregnant with your grandchild? (And the girl is contemplating get rid of both of them?)
Introducing the Panic Button, and we all have one. Or for some of us, several. Big ones clipped onto our keychains that we carry around every day, with glow-in-the-dark coatings and red LED-lit letters that invitingly read PUSH ME NOW. Continue reading “In which Dawn learns to pray…(cont.)”
This is not a pretty site if you happen to be claustrophobic:
However, if you could only see the rest of picture…
I don’t have to have spiritual tunnel vision; I can safely trust in God’s ultra-wide angle lens. In other words…
Trust in the Lord with all your heart;
do not depend on your own understanding.
Seek his will in all you do,
and he will show you which path to take.
Proverbs 3:5,6 Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004, 2015 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.
My dad had a shop in the basement, a couple of rooms of the basement in fact. It was pretty awe-inspiring. His big engineer’s drafting table, from which hung the triangle and T-square, dominated one room, the one in which he built in all the new cabinets himself. I think that was before he designed and built the beautiful screened-in back porch.
The actual shop was in an adjacent room. This housed a myriad of baby food jars filled with screws and washers and all types and sizes of things. His lathe was in there, and the circle saw, and undoubtedly a host of other things I would have no idea how to use. (What’s a router??)
If a picture paints a thousand words, then this one is a whole tome in itself~~
This photo from World War 2 is iconic and, in my mind, is one of the most important comments on war in general. The picture, by W. Eugene Smith, is of an American Marine finding a desperate infant still astonishingly breathing among the dead in Saipan. They passed the baby from soldier to soldier until the child arrived at the top of the hill. I wish I could find out whatever happened to the child, but have not been able to do so as yet. Perhaps the child’s history is now lost to us. Continue reading “The sacred Garbage Man”
I put in this new garden two years ago, by hand, meaning without much help except for the big farm and home truck that dropped everything off next to the driveway. And let me tell ya, those railroad ties are heavy! (I think Bob helped me with one of them, but he had previously hurt his back, so I sent him back indoors.)
It’s been beautiful and fruitful:
But now, a few seasons later, the dirt seems to have settled and is getting a bit low. I’m always asking Bob for dirt for my birthday, or Mothers’ Day, but his romantic heart can’t bear showering dirt on his wife when other wives are asking for jewelry or flowers. Continue reading “Shovel…check. Ibuprofen…check.”
If you’re on Instagram, you’ve probably noticed the proliferation of cat and dog photos. That’s okay, since it’s a subject obviously near and dear to the owner’s heart. I even wrote a children’s book about my dog—ready for this??—in Swedish, for my Swedish granddaughter.
(Sidebar—Yes, I’m trying to learn Swedish, such a beautiful language. I use my vocabulary words, plus a few others to fill in the blanks, to write primary-style stories along the lines of “See Jane. See Jane run.” Because that’s about the level of my Swedish. So why not write about my dog, along with photos?)
One of the wonderful things about dogs, we are told, is that they live in the now. There’s no worrying about tomorrow or fretting over yesterday. For them, it’s a total embracing of present tense, in every encounter, every situation. Continue reading “Beware: broken sidewalk”
There’s just something fun about seeing kids hunt for their Easter eggs. Of course, you sometimes have to separate the different age groups, since the two-year-olds need their eggs right where they can see them easily, and the eight-year-olds need them hidden with somewhat more ingenuity—like in places Mom finds a week later…but not with her eyes.
I remember doing the coloring egg thing with my kids, although I’m not sure how often that still goes on. There’s so much fake stuff out there which makes it quite bit easier, plastic eggs and such. If you trip and drop them, they don’t tend to break as easily, (and they don’t smell if they go unclaimed, a definite plus.) Continue reading “Proper egg placement”
I’m starting this on April 1, 2018. Nationally, we call that April Fools’ Day. It’s also Easter Sunday. Ironically, the joke’s on those who don’t accept the Resurrection, although it’s no laughing matter. Not by a long shot. But that’s apologetics, which I love, and that’s not what this journal is about.
It’s about prayer, communication with God. Dialogue. Listening and hearing and following the Shepherd Who “goes before me”. It’s about learning to really know His voice more confidently, because He promises that in John 10. More than going off lists, even lists which are for and about other people and serious, eternal situations—lists are good tools, but I think there is more.
And I feel unsafe. Interestingly, one of the books/video segments (John Eldredge on prayer) just last night talked about the spiritual warfare side of prayer, the personal part. He says not to shy away from spiritual warfare, but to deal with it. NOW. So, I’m realizing, (that is, this morning it comes to me, how do you suppose those dots were connected??), that this feeling of “unsafe” is just that—spiritual assault. If God sincerely desires for me to be more intimately communicative with Him, more effective in powerful prayer, and if He promises to protect me and guide me, then who d’ya think is trying like the devil to scare me off?
The devil. Right.
So, I need to deal with it. Now.
In the mighty Name of Jesus Christ, in the power of His Resurrection and the authority of His Ascension, I submit myself to Jesus, and in that same power and authority I resist Satan and all his emissaries of fear, instability, timidity, and related demonic powers who now must flee according to Almighty God’s command. Jesus, I bring myself under Your loving and tender authority and power and ask You to again cover me with Your blood, my heart, mind and soul, past, present and future, all of me and all that concerns me. I commit this journey to You, for Your glory, for Your kingdom come and will be done, as far as it concerns me. Make my communication with You as effective as You desire. Change my thought patterns, old ways of perceiving. I put my hand in Yours and accept Your guidance and protection. Here we go.
Speaking of feeling unsafe, I need to explore that a bit more. I crave safety and stability, but I also crave adventure. Kinda weird. Definitely a trust issue, knowing that Scriptures assures me God will guide me and not “forsake” me under any circumstances.
I remember the time as a young girl walking with my dad in a downtown area when we were visiting someplace. We came upon an alleyway interrupting the sidewalk, and Dad walked on, but I stopped to look and make sure (for myself) that it was safe. As I caught up to Dad he said, “what’s the matter, Dawn? Didn’t you trust me?”
Father, I don’t want to lag behind.
Now, this doesn’t preclude my own due diligence, not by a long shot. God gave me a brain and expects me to use it. So, when this prophecy by Joni Ames came down the pipe a few months ago, this “anointing for intercessory prayer”, I’m taking it seriously. Thus, my lists have taken a sabbatical, and my own personal study is being stepped up. My lists have been really good and important, but they make me feel too safe right now. As in, “there, that’s done, now let’s get on with it.” Not that God hasn’t spoken to me during my “list praying”; He most definitely has, with promises I cling to. And I know He has heard those prayers; they are still in His heart, like pictures a child would draw, and the parent keeps up on the frig, even years later.
I would like my artwork to become more powerful, like something hanging in the Louvre.
I also dream. Last night I had another one. I’ve purchased this brand-new smoke alarms, and just haven’t gotten around to hanging them up yet, (it’s been, what, maybe six weeks now?) Yesterday, I finally got out the directions and began figuring out what needs to be done. Yep, it’s going to take more than I hoped, as in drilling new holes to fit the new alarms. Again, I put it off until today, maybe tomorrow.
Last night I dreamed my dad was in the back room, drilling and hanging a new smoke alarm for me. (Dad could fix ANYTHING—one of those guys.) In my dream, I realized I hadn’t gotten enough alarms, and if Dad was here doing this for me, I’d better take advantage of it, and ran out to buy another!
This was not prophetic, at least not in the sense that my father is going to come hang my smoke alarms for me—at this writing, he’s in his late-80’s and lives a few states away. No, that process is definitely still on me. However, it does clue me into something very important: my Father (capital “F”) knows what I’ve been putting off getting done, knows that the process of doing it is essential for my safety (and the safety of others), and is doing surprising things under the radar to get me there.
And buying more smoke alarms is like bringing Him more prayers so He can put them in place.
The sunrise is coming up a beautiful dark pink. I wonder what time it was when the women ventured to the tomb and found it empty. Was it still dark, or did they wait for the sunrise to find out that the Son had indeed risen?
Happy Rez Day!