in the secret of thy presence

This is my New Year's Resolution in the words of Albert Osborn. Now to put this real ideal into the daily face of my everyday life...'twil be the challenge.

In the secret of thy presence,
Where the pure in heart may dwell,
Are the springs of sacred service
And a power that none can tell.
There my love must bring its offering,
There my heart must yield its praise,
And the Lord will come, revealing
All the secrets of his ways.

More than all my lips may utter,
More than all I do or bring,
Is the depth of my devotion
To my Saviour, Lord and King,
Nothing less will keep me tender,
Nothing less will keep me true;
Nothing less will keep the fragrance
And the bloom on all I do!

Blessed Lord, to see thee truly,
Then to tell as I have seen,
This shall rule my love supremely,
This shall be the sacred gleam.
Sealed again is all the sealing,
Pledged again my willing heart,
First to know thee, then to serve thee,
Then to see thee as thou art.

christmas reality

in postcard glitter of a snow, unmarked

by sledding rides;

under cedar boughs, where scarlet

holly berries hide.

at china-laid tables, set on linen cloth

for six or less

at which adults and minute angels are the

only welcome guests.

on a cookie tray daintily dusted

with nonpariels;

at the lacey curtain-edged glow

of electric candles.

is christmas to be found?

when boisterous greetings meet holiday

smells in the air

among the tumult of cousins, gleeful

over cardtable fare.

in the almost-hush of grandpa's grace when

bowed is each head;

in tart cranberries, celery dressing,

and grandma's rye bread.

where ice-frosted farmhouse windows

bloom yellow cheer.

where tradition reminds familiarity of all

that we hold dear,

there christmas is to be found.

guess what, everyone?

i went home for thanksgiving!!

it was wonderful.

worth the 22 hour drive...

the sitting in traffic...

the drawn-out games of rook...

the packing...

the loss of sleep...

i'd do it all again.

now i am back in va

and into a month that school teacher's struggle with

as it overloads their already full schedule...

not to worry.

what other time of year can rival december?

the fluffy snowflakes...

the smell of baking gingerbread...

excitement of gifts and of secrets...

christmas lights strung beside the road.

i'd give much to make christmas happen.

climbing old rag

two weekends ago three friends and i climbed old rag.

we labored, scrambling over rocks and panting up switchbacks.

i begged for a breather more than once...

but we persevered.

over the rough terrain...

up slippery surfaces worn by many feet...

in our 'impractical' gear, as so many commented...

one step at a time we climbed.

we reached the summit;

the view was breath-taking.

each day i persevere toward the ultimate summit.

over the slippery slope of failure,

scrambling on past rocky discouragement,

persevering for the promises.

i can't help but believe the view will be breath-taking.

well worth every step of my climb.

rach, kris, andrea, and i

our view

you should try...

...a race with your dad

...to braid your own hair

...raw oysters

...to climb a silo

...to carve an apple

...eggnog

...to stare at a friend for three minutes

...screaming as loud as you can

...a coconut

...staying up all night

In Penmanship class yesterday we made lists of the many things you should try. Don't you love these suggestions? =)

Try something exotic, sixth grade style!

except...

time has come to post about my work, teaching...

...my life these days.

i've had a few arduous weeks of preparing, and the to-do list is always present.

but we have progressed from this bare chaos

(thanks, denise)

to a room that now feels like a schoolroom.

hurrah!

sometimes the prep is loads of fun.

wouldn't you like to dig up grass roots in the rain?

listen carefully to popcorn popping on a friday afternoon?

dissect a petunia?

color your fingerprints with washable markers?

write your initials in cuneiform?

sometimes the prep is overwhelming.

i remind myself of psalm 127:1-3:

except the Lord build the house, they labor in vain that build it:

except the Lord build the city, the watchman waketh but in vain.

it is vain for you to rise up early,

to sit up late...

seriously, i like that verse.

in a teacher paraphrase,

'except the Lord be in your classroom,

you multiply lesson plans,

grade every paper,

decorate each classroom corner,

but in vain.'

i'm off to prepare for tomorrow...

with Him.

Mercies New Each Morning

"[Thy mercies] are new every morning: great is Thy faithfulness." Lamentations 3:23

One Day At A Time

One day at a time, with its failures and fears,
With its hurts and mistakes, with its weakness and tears,
With its portion of pain and its burden of care;
One day at a time we must meet and must bear.

Not yesterday's load are we called on to bear,
Nor the morrow's uncertain and shadowy care;
Why should we look forward or back with dismay?
Our needs, as our mercies, are but for the day.

One day at a time, and the day is His day;
He hath numbered its hours, though they haste or delay.
His grace is sufficient; we walk not alone;
As the day, so the strength that He giveth His own.

-Annie Johnson Flint


I thought I'd share a few stanzas of this worthy poem. Whatever your day holds-whether it is lesson planning, a new college venture, frustrating responsibilities, or daily care for family and friends-I hope you feel His mercies.

His mercies. Can I tell you the shape of those words to me?

Mercy is when I am invited to pray and play Taboo with some very nice gals.
Mercy is when one of my students leaves me an orange Post-It note.
Mercy is when I find a magnificent art book at Teachers' Aid.
Mercy is when Dad calls just to check up on my internet connection.
Mercy is shopping at Walmart with a friend.
Mercy is when Ruth waits up for me to inquire about my long day.
Mercy is a thoughtful gift from my pastor's wife.
Mercy is the sound of rain on the roof during Spelling class.

And much more. Feeling weighted by cares or the mundane? Take a careful look around you... His mercies are new every morning.

wild and wonderful west virginia

this view is mine to look at anytime i take a lengthy trip west of harrisonburg.
dost thou envy me?

breadcrumbs

lacey floating manna crumbs
on the gentian petal lake
swirl about three lily pads
with the current

crusts fall from benevolent palms
from eager baby hands
shook from tight-clasped grocery sacks
onto glossy waves

meager offerings toss where they will
close by the carrot webbed feet
under quills of snow down white
to goslings' beaks

ten random things one might do at faithbuilders

Ten Random Things You Might (or Might Not) Do at Faithbuilders Institute:


1. You might have dinner discussions ranging from the humorous effects
of birth order, to the solid components of Anabaptism, to what water
chestnuts really look like.


2. You might enjoy a hike on the Erie Wildlife Refuge trails...posing for pictures, finding tree leaves, straddling bridges (some among us), and running through raindrops.

3. You might have the fun of telling your small group that the

best object you could find to personify yourself on short notice
was a swiveling fan...

4. You might enjoy large cookies

and milk with dormies.

5. You might (would) fall asleep over blurry words...and more than once.

6. You might enjoy scribbling away a Saturday

at a coffeehouse, with a fellow member of the

Creative Writing class.

7. You might enjoy the music--whether it is Gina's piano practice or Saturday evening singing in the gym (bring along your Mennonite Hymnal, please).

8. You might spend a wonderful hour sitting on a tombstone,

journal in hand.

9. You might weed corn rows and hill potatoes with the whole FB gang. (But be warned, if you're weeding corn, you will find it much more floppish ).


10. You might write a story about camels and a certain endearing camel boy, who has big hands and a tender heart.

Or you might do none of the above! But the ten you did do, would be equally worth your while.

of raspberries and simplicity

"my life can be so arranged that i can live on whatever i have.

if i cannot live as i have lived in the past,

i shall live differently; and living differently does not mean

living with less attention to the things that make life gracious and pleasant,

or with less enjoyment of the things of the mind."

-e. roosevelt

i was driving down 33 to ruth’s house, glorying in the beauty of the west virginia mountains. i pulled over and stretched out my arms, wondering why God had brought me to this beautiful place. i arrived and began unpacking. after shuffling boxes until i was ready to drop, i had to ask myself why God moved me to this place. i then discovered that the library did not have my free wireless access, and that i had to open a new bank account. ‘twas then i groaned, ‘why, God, did you bring me to this place?’

expectations. deceitful things, aren’t they? sometimes merely another word for my selfish wants. by believing it’s my due to receive certain things in life, that a few ‘trifles’ are owed to me, all i have left are disappointments galore.

i like eleanor’s quote up there, but it seems to me that psalms 16:11 says the truth even better. “thou hast shown me the path of life; in thy presence is fullness of joy; at thy right hand are pleasures forevermore.” His presence equals joy, no exceptions allowed. It does not say that friends equal joy, or family, or even cheesecake and chocolate. it’s all about surrender, about resting in His omnipresence.

how comforting.

so even in the midst of adjustments, in the middle of the surprises that change brings my way, joy is guaranteed me on a life warranty! i decide to stop groaning and start smiling.

ruth and i picked raspberries today, heaps of ‘em, and we are going to have shortcake for breakfast. my room is almost in order, and i even found the perfect nifty shelf at walmart for $9.88! and when i brooked my nervousness and went to a youth retreat thing tonight [brave, don’t you say] i even enjoyed myself.

so there. simplicity. and joy. i’m learning.

this moment to hold

we have this moment

to hold in our hands, and to touch

as it slips through our fingers like sand.

yesterday's gone,

and tomorrow may never come,

but we have this moment today.

this song was a sentimental cliche in my younger years;

therefore, i've never liked it much.

but these past few days have shown me that it speaks the truth

and there are some feelings-

as one comes to the end of a chapter in one's life-

that cannot be expressed in any better way.

this moment we have...let us hold it tenderly, carefully, and with love.

Make a Smilebox slideshow

wherever you are

are you standing at a crossroad
wondering which road you should take?
and you're dreading the decision
and a possible mistake.
but the will of God won't lead you
where the grace of God can't keep you;
and you will never be out of His care.
remember that the Lord's already there.

you are waiting to hear thunder
and see lightening in the sky;
oh, but God can work His wonders
through a still small voice inside.
so keep listening and learning
and continue on the journey,
following the One who is the Way;
for He's the only road you need to take.

wherever you are,
wherever you're going,
God is right there beside you seeing and knowing.
wherever you go He already knows
what lies ahead and what's behind;
you'll always find He's never too far
from wherever you are.

-mccullough and lindsey-

oh, the places we've been

special night, dad.

and in honor of father's day,

i just wanted to say

that your involvement in my life is superb.

i cannot measure the quality time

you have spent with me.

you treated me to a first date at age 13,

you were my personal escort to a writer's conference,

you took me to street meetings

and even man-handled a tow truck ride on the way home.

you cleared out an office or two to give me space for my dreams

and you've believed in me when i have forgotten how to believe in myself.

love you much.

in others' words

"how far you go in life

depends on your being tender with the young,

compassionate with the aged, sympathetic with the striving,

tolerant of the weak and strong-

because someday you will have been all of these."

george washington carver

don't let me lose my wonder

don't let me lose my wonder

by keith & kristyn getty

i've seen days melt into nights in circles of lights,

i've watched a spider spin a star between the window box flowers,

i've heard you laugh and cry in a single sigh

and a story form within.

don't let me lose my wonder,

don't let me lose my wonder.

i saw her broken dreams inside but helping others fly,

i saw his eyes without a doubt though other lights faded out,

and though her calling roared, such graciousness poured

from the vision of her soul.

don't let me lose my wonder,

don't let me lose my wonder.

a baby cried through the dark beneath a jeweled spark,

i knew Your voice upon the hill and heard my lostness still,

i found my home in the light where wrong was made right

and You rose as the morning star.

don't let me lose my wonder,

don't let me lose my wonder.

this song, mariah, has taught me about Wonder...but you show me much more.

stepping down the rainbow sidewalk

you dart away

to teach me that Delight is found in picking tulips.

we go swinging at kerry park

and i meet Happiness

in the breeze that teases your curly pigtails.

at the tweet of a robin,

at sunshine and puppies,

when holding tight to a friendly hand...

you smile at what Life is all about.

and you show me

that the meaning of life is not a dutiful acceptance of 'my lot',

but rather, about Trust.

i thank God you remind me

each day was not meant to be a struggle.

instead, Joy herself greets me at unexpected moments

and in unwonted places

when i look through the eyes of one very special little girl.

you are a delight

“The Lord your God has arrived to live among you. He is a mighty Saviour. He will rejoice over you with great gladness. With his love, he will calm your fears. He will exalt over you by singing a happy song.” Zephaniah 3:17[NLT]

we’re sitting on the alphabet rug at preschool, jo and i, probably singing “elephants have wrinkles.” an unlikely time to grasp a great new truth.

but we’re singing, clapping and swaying, as i said, when teacher marci looks at her sixteen preschoolers and says, “you know, they’re all such a delight in so many ways.”

and they really are! maddy’s melting smile (and i mean melting). austin’s unfailingly cheerful “okay, teacher marci!” bryant’s exuberance over everything, from saltines with peanut butter to a tower of pegs. mariah’s priceless giggles.

sometimes i feel pretty undelightful. i feel regret over past mistakes. i fail to show my love to the people i love most. my days are too busy to be beautiful and i forget to pray…again.

but just imagine with me that it’s eternity now. we’re in the new Jerusalem, a golden city illuminated by the light of the Son. and it’s been countless ages that we’ve been gathered round the throne; we, the redeemed…people of every kindred, tribe and nation, singing praises to the Lamb.

can’t you just imagine the Father looking over the diverse multitudes, beaming at each one a grin of tender joy and love? then reaching over to tap Jesus on the shoulder and whisper, “you know, they’re all such a delight, in so many ways.”

that’s my God.

His resources

if i never felt a hunger i couldn’t fill,
why pray for manna?
if i never tasted an unquenchable thirst,
why look to One who has the living water?
if i never met an obsatcle,
what would be the point of mountain-moving faith?
if i never erred or lost my way,
why a Shepherd?
if throughout life i never faced a need,
i would never, ever learn sustained trust in His provision.

now i believe that He really can bring water out of a flinty rock,
and drop new manna in each desert morning.
i believe in my Shepherd’s ability to lead me to sufficient pasture
even though the landscape all around is dry and empty.
my resources might be nearly depleted,
and my needs truly overwhelming.
but as i learn to draw on His abundant gifts,
as i see Him at work in my world,
i begin to realize that my incredible God will always come through for me.

daily contentment settles over me anew.

when i was a child

when i was a child…
what a whimsical phrase.
a phrase the old-timers use with authority and relish,
and parents use as overall reproof.

i didn’t use to understand why the elderly dwell in the past.
at least, i didn’t connect in any way.
i didn’t have much of a past, you see.

but now i’m a little bit older.
and i think i have an inkling of the charm in the phrase…
…when i was a child.

such carefree joy and painless troubles were mine in those days.
such days, innumerable as dewdrops.
as i danced through those years,
i was convinced beyond a doubt
that around any of life’s bends existed dozens of opportunities.
i would choose among them, all golden of course,
and i would find my perfect dream.

but the road got a bit too long and weary,
the next bend so far away that it looked like a mirage to me.
and when i finally reached it,
fear and sorrow joined me on my journey.

i then lost the rosy idealism and naiveté i possessed…
…when i was a child.

we drove home tonight. i was spent, physically and emotionally.
but i lifted up my eyes to see slate clouds float by in the gloaming,
and i opened my soul to the glorious strains of an old hymn.

“abide with me, fast falls the eventide,
the darkness deepens, Lord, with me abide.
when other helpers fail and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me.”

i reflect on this moment. i remember the tender care of my God,
the One who will always be a Father to me,
in whose arms i can always rest secure.

then i know that all is well,
and will be well forever.

as long as i am His child.

thank you, mom

The more I think it over the more I feel that there is

nothing more truly artistic than to love people.

(Vincent van Gogh)

I am quite sure my mom would not call herself artistic, or even creative [although I disagree on that point]. It is true that she does not like to write poems or paint or play the gourmet chef. But my mom is a master of one type of creativity...the art of giving herself.

I notice this in a dozen little things daily. The card for a single friend on Mother's Day. The afternoon spent flight shopping for my Virginia trip. Her patience with a fussy little girl in the wee hours. Her attention to unspoken needs. Her listening ear.

Thank you, Mom, for the way you touch us. Thank you for the beautiful, creative ways you show us your love, and God's.

teacher again

BEREA CHRISTIAN SCHOOL--Harrisonburg, Virginia

My time spent in Virginia last weekend was profitable; I now have a position as 6th grade teacher for the 2008-09 school year. A wonderful visit and good times with Dad...

"And therefore will the LORD wait, that he may be gracious unto you, and therefore will he be exalted, that he may have mercy upon you: for the LORD is a God of judgment: blessed are all they that wait for him...and thine ears shall hear a word behind thee, saying, This is the way, walk ye in it, when ye turn to the right hand, and when ye turn to the left."

Isaiah 30:18, 21

"I will instruct thee and teach thee in the way that thou shalt go;

I will guide thee with mine eye." Psalm 32:8

my heritage

Dusty love letters. Bank books. Goofy family photos of the ‘40s. Decaying telegrams. I am up to my elbows in these, and loving it.

After two evenings of scanning photos and puzzling over the confusing Ribar family tree, I began to wonder why I was still as happy as a cricket in a task most abhor. Why does knowing my heritage delight me so much?

Ultimately, the best motivation to all this organizing is the new picture, even new perspective, I’ve developed of my late grandma, Dorothy Wagner Vinar. When I read pages of her diary and see the particular care she took to preserve mementos of history and of family moments; I am amazed at how much I share with her.

Tradition-making. Memory-keeping. I love these things, too, and the connection helps me remember what I loved about my grandma. The ethnic meals on Christmas Eve were a result of her wish to expose the grandkids to other cultures. The diary she kept faithfully, daily, with the intent of someday typing up a summary of her life, was meant to share a legacy, making sure it was not an unknown one. The pieces of nostalgia she treasured show me the depth of her love for her family, her empathy with their accomplishments and tragedies.

All in all, it’s been very rewarding. Maybe someday I can discover other facets of my heritage, but for today I am content with remembering someone. With knowing the photos, keepsakes, and traditions Grandma left behind will remind me of who she was, and of what she meant to me.

embrace the cross

The cross of Jesus-my only option for release.

Too often I look for peace, for relief, for joy, some other way. It might be escapism, yes, but in my case I believe it is a simple lack of trust. And a strong sense of self that keeps me from giving up the trifles I hold so dear.

Psalm 55:22 says, "Cast thy burden upon the Lord and He shall sustain thee." I often claim this blessing without considering my obligations. I expect instant rest, freedom from anything uncomfortable...in short, very smooth sailing.

I claim the promise of Jesus-"Come unto me and I will give you rest"-only to be shocked by remembering that His rest is found only when I embrace the cross. I shrink at the foot of Calvary, casting about in my mind for any other way.

The paradox is this: if I shrink from the suffering of the Cross, my burdens will only gain in power. But as I draw near, anxiety snaps, sin flees, and fear is overcome by perfect love.

Pretty amazing. Although I cannot deny that to identify with the sufferings of my Savior looks daunting at times, even impossible. The enemy tries to make it look even more so.

By faith I tiptoe closer, holding my breath. Remembering that although suffering is bound to be my lot here on earth, His presence is greater than anything I will ever face. Remembering that in the light of His face I will find perfect joy. Remembering-for I cannot help it-all the self-denial, pain and suffering this will require of me.

Then I realize I know a secret. “Looking unto Jesus..." With eyes of faith, I visualize the One who was crucified for me. I find that as I fix my eyes on Him, I forget the fears that tormented me only moments before.

Looking unto Jesus. Embracing His Cross. All burdens removed.

Glory.

I take, O Cross, thy shadow

for my abiding place.

I ask no other sunshine

than the sunshine of His face.

Content to let the world go by,

to know no gain nor loss;

my sinful self my only shame,

my glory all the cross.

-Elizabeth Clephane

pussywillows

today i found...

[you will not believe this]

PUSSYWILLOWS!!!

you should have seen my victory dance

with the pruners

[or maybe not].

and if you cannot imagine such joy

over fuzzy bushes...

come and spend the next long and bitter winter

in minnesota

[but i do love it here, really].