morning by morning


“O LORD, I love the habitation of your house and the place where your glory dwells.”
~Psalm 26:8~

The new mercies of morning include a fresh, God-given perspective.

I rest in the quiet room, grateful for another night turned day.

Yesterday I wrote about the way I’ve been doing things around here.

Something felt off about it, I couldn’t stand to leave it up.  I trashed it.

This morning I see what the problem was, with an emphasis on was.

I was talking too much.

Today this is forgiven.

all things new

the way of sanctification is not growth, but subtraction.

I have a heart of holes, a fragment of my former self,

for the more I sin, the more He takes away

until there’s nothing left of me.`

the afternoon recess


“Has God forgotten to be gracious, or has He in anger withdrawn His compassion?”
~Psalm 77:9~

“What is the cause of this turmoil?”, he asked.

My beloved found me in my heavy laden and less than desirable state, half-ranting-half-crying on the bed.  It’s a good question, one I was wondering myself, and have often wondered.  I was just trying to change a diaper.  Actually, I was just trying to get some time alone to write and blog about what a great day we’d all been having.  But it wasn’t meant to be, not then.

It’s just hard sometimes.

I’ll spare the forty-five minutes of mothering details.  There are simply times when you’ve got your own plans for doing things but the needs of people around you take precedence.   You have no choice.  You are bound.  The Need decides for you.  You don’t have the option of saying no or see ya or waiting until later. The Need demands the all of your now.

Why is this so painful?


I think it’s kind of like stubbing your little toe.

These are the times that in the grand scheme of life and its problems are not that big of a deal, but in the moment, still feel so difficult and painful to get through.

Your little toe is a small part of your body, not an essential to staying alive part, but when you hit it up against something the wrong way, the hard way, well, you know.

So these plans you have, these mini hopes and dreams that get squashed by this, that, or that other, this is gonna hurt because little or not they are still a part of you.

It’s the pain of dying to self.


Then your husband lays down his own plans and takes the kids to the post-office.

And when they get back from that, without a sound, he takes them out to play.  I’m watching.  I’m listening.  He’s teaching me things.

But not before one of the boys gets hit in the face with another boy’s stick.


It’s not always like this.

That’s what you’ve got to remember in those times.  The quiet voice will say to you:

“Rebekah, remember the peaceful and relaxing walk from early this beautiful morning?”


And remember how the air smelled like your earliest memories of wildflower summertime at Grandma’s house?

And remember how happy the kids were when Uncle Chris and Sarah surprised us with another visit and impromptu pretzel making lesson?



Jesus, yes.

Yes, I remember.

Thank you, Jesus.


I’m gonna go play outside now.


And I said, this is my grief
but I will remember the years of the right hand of the most High.

I shall remember the deeds of the LORD
Surely I will remember Your wonders of old.
~Psalm 77:11~

this Jesus God raised up


“Why do we hurt each other?  Why do we push love away?”
~Boyz II Men, Water Runs Dry~

There are divisions among the brothers.

Divisions are nothing other than diversions.  I have a theory when it comes to all the denominations in the Church and the tragic number of burning bridges within our synod.  There will come a time when none of it will matter.  The names we’ve created for ourselves, the hills of pride we refuse to die on, these will all fall away to the wayside.

In its place will rise the Name Above All Names.   Every tribe and tongue and nation will revolt against the Way.  Those who dare speak the Unspeakable will pay a price, a great and bloody terrible price.  The ones who know their God will take action, that is, they will be still, but not silent, oh no, by no Power of theirs will they remain silent.

As the Spirit at Pentecost became the great and mighty Babel reversal, a remnant of this current dispersion will be called back to reunite and stand against all odds.  Even now, the hungry, the thirsty, the hurting, the dying, those enslaved to the darkness of sin and every evil, their tongues of fire cry out for Mercy and Hope without knowing.

And they’ll know we are Christians by our Love.

circle of life


“Anywhere the light touches is our kingdom.”
~Mufasa to Simba, The Lion King~

I’ve purposely avoided the word adventure.

Adventure is a word reserved for the world of children.

I am not a child anymore.  I am growing up.

I’m okay with that.


My brother came to visit yesterday.

Uncle Chris is loved by the kids for his fun-loving spirit.  He is an adventure lover.

Just like his older sister used to be.


I’m happy and blessed to show them the way.