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Remember The Wildflowers

A precious, little Cuban wildflower.

Has anyone by fussing before the mirror ever gotten taller by so much as an inch? If fussing can’t even do that, why fuss at all? Walk into the fields and look at the wildflowers. They don’t fuss with their appearance—but have you ever seen color and design quite like it? The ten best-dressed men and women in the country look shabby alongside them. If God gives such attention to the wildflowers, most of them never even seen, don’t you think he’ll attend to you, take pride in you, do his best for you? ~Luke 12:27-28 (The Message)

Growing in grace teaches us that it is not the color of one’s skin, but the content of their soul that makes our world beautiful. Under all the facades, past all the tips and tricks to hide what we deem unsightly, God crafted a heart purposed to reflect the love of The Almighty.

Aging is a beautiful thing when we look beyond the ordinary markers to behold the extraordinary meanings.

Wrinkles are the troughs eroded by tears and settled by smiles. They map out our life right there in plain sight, telling the world of a life song threefold. Once a man, twice a child so the circle goes. And in the process of completion wisdom waltzes in and shares her instruction.

Bruises, and scars are signs of a life lived, loved and lost. They are medals of honor that portray the stories that sometimes made us laugh, and other times made us cry. Each one, a monument of rising to the mountaintop or descending into the valley. But we know life is both hard and holy.

Every year, a new number. A new season. A new calling. We all want to behold burning bush moments, but God. Sometimes He places us right in the midst of life’s mundane messes and asks us, live here. Make a difference here with all your scars and scrapes, not in the middle of momentous miracles and before millions of eyes, but among measureless mercies and man’s desperate cries.

Wherever you are friend, remember the wildflowers. You may be one dancing in the wind on a beautiful hillside for all the world to see, or maybe you are tucked into a safe corner disguised by many. Both coordinates are needed and necessary. Be about the business of Kingdom building. The harvest is plentiful in the majestic and the mundane. You were picked and planted to thrive right where you are by the Hands that molded the world. Thrive wildflower. Be alive.

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Our Scars Are Bountiful Stories

I have a scar on the left side of my chest where there once was a central line that nourished me when I was too ill to eat. I have a scar under my right arm in the upper rib area that is a reminder of a chest tube that once supported my collapsed lung from a procedure gone wrong. Both blemishes were the product of one pregnancy. I see those two scars every day, and for many years they were unattractive to me. What I have learned and love is now when I notice them I feel gratitude where I once knew grief because those blemishes are emblematic of life. My scars are the representatives of a broken story with a bountiful ending. If it were not for them, I would not have my daughter. I was reminiscing amidst the memories of my scar journey this morning, and as I was strolling through the story, I had a vivid visual of Jesus on the cross. There he was in my picture, nailed by evil and dawning scars that the world would deem unattractive; then this thought crossed my mind, Jesus’ scars also represented life. I am confident that He, too looks his scars, smiles and says if it were not for them, I would not have my daughter.

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Even If, Friend

e4e0f616baab44c6ddf10e96516992faThere was a time when I would head into every new year thinking maybe this will be the year. Maybe this year (blank) will change. Maybe this year (blank) will be easier. Maybe this year (blank) will be less painful. Maybe, maybe, maybe. In retrospect, all those maybes were born from a shifty hunger within myself rather than a sure hope in my Savior. No wonder the cycle repeated itself every year. I measured the success of my years by earthly fortune instead of eternal fruit.

My craving for certain circumstances to change is not wrong, and neither is yours. However, my concern should be more about spiritual maturation and less about situational modification. When I focus more on what God is doing in and for me, and less on what the world is doing around me, my outlook completely shifts; my joy increases, thankfulness thrives, I bemoan less and believe more. It is not that griefs dissolve, but gratitude dominates.

I know 2016 and his predecessors have left scars, friend. I know some have left you weary and wishing for relief, but although you carry those scars you don’t have to cower to them. Yes, they are painful, but if we are believing, we can know we are benefiting as challenging as it sometimes is to reconcile.

As you walk into 2017, I pray you tuck two very powerful words from scripture in a pocket of your heart and carry them into the new year with you. EVEN IF (Daniel 3:18). Even if (blank) does not change, I will focus on my Creator not my crosses. You are loved.

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A Beautiful Story

Her successes humbled her; she softly accepted them with gratitude.  Her wounds filled her heart with compassion, and she knew though painful, they would mature into wisdom that she would rely on to comfort others.  Both together wrote her story; the story she drew from to minister to others with gentleness and grace.  You, my dear, are a beautiful story with pages full of pleasure and pain that have formed your unique and eternal purpose.

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One God, One People

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I am a color,  but my color does not define me.

I am born of a race,  but I become who I choose to be.

God created me equal to all man so please respectfully acknowledge me.

I have a heart that beats just like yours.  It sins and loves no matter what my ethnicity.

History holds a wealth of bondage from scars inflicted by ancestors,  you and me.

The future does not have to reflect our wounds.  The choice is for God’s people, no matter color, race, religion or gender to spread and live in harmony.

There are good and bad of every kind.  Exclusive to no one;  not yours or mine.

My birth branded me with many labels,  but please don’t use them to judge me.  I only wish to be known as the person who desires to reflect God in how I live,  love and chose to be.

Kindness knows no boundaries in available hearts.  It is immune to the prejudice or color, race or gender.  It respects all, the receiver, and the lender.

We are all one.  May our eyes be blind to any differences and our hearts be open to every kind.  For it is in seeing, knowing and loving,  many treasures we find.