Surf's up!

I admit it readily. An internship in Florida in many ways is an internship in Paradise. For this girl from the high plains, proximity to the ocean was a dream come true. Living a block away was beyond my wildest expectations.

But I will also admit, the water still makes me nervous. I'm not scared and I won't drown, but I just don't love the vulnerability of a massive body of water with things in it that would like to eat me. I love to sit on the shore, stick my feet in, dig in the sand, watch the crabs in tide pools. But I rarely let the water get above my knees.

And I'm taking the high school students on a surfing retreat.



I love it.

More to follow. Prayers much appreciated.

Ms. Leslie, I have a miracle!

"Ms. Leslie, I have to tell you my miracle..."  This sweet refrain has followed me around for the past week and a half, and I rejoice every time I hear it. It all started last Wednesday when it was my turn to lead chapel for our school kids, preschool through middle school, in four different gatherings. Our text for the day was the wedding at Cana, and though I didn't focus on miracles as the point of the lesson, the word "miracle" grabbed my littlest ones, so I camped there a bit with all of them. Our working definition was something like this,

miracle: something amazing God does in the world that we just can't explain, so we say, "That's amazing! Thanks be to God!!!"

They started naming miracles for me. Not surprisingly, the younger the group, the longer and simpler the list. They see God at work everywhere.
"When someone is sick and then they are better."
"There's a crash and nobody gets hurt."
"You fall on the playground and you get back up and keep playing."
"When birds are flying."
"My new baby cousin."
"It's morning and then it's nighttime and then it's morning again!"  (I think that was my favorite.)

The middle schoolers were pretty hesitant, but with a little encouragement, the list grew. The final and most perfect addition:
"Well, I would think Jesus forgiving all our sins is a pretty big miracle. Isn't it?"
Oh yes, dear one!

As we wrapped up chapel each time I challenged them to be on the lookout for miracles, and told them I wanted to hear them. Because a miracle is a chance a praise God together for what God is doing every day.
I haven't been disappointed.
"Ms. Leslie, I have a miracle. My brother was sick and suddenly he was better!"
"Ms. Leslie, my miracle is I found a shell!"
"Ms. Leslie, Jesus rose from the dead. He's not in heaven because he died, he's in heaven because he rose up! It's a miracle"
(Loved this. Six year olds tend to skip Lent altogether)

So how about you? Do you recognize the work of God all around you as miraculous? Do you take the chance to say, "That's amazing. Thanks be to God!" Maybe today is the day to put on the eyes of a little one and see a miracle in the simple acts of life. Or maybe just focus on Jesus for a bit.
I really do want to hear them. Let us rejoice. Together.

Remember you are dust...

I love Ash Wednesday. It wells up in my spirit with a rush that dumps me into the joyous solemnity of the Lenten journey with all its giving and giving up and buried A-------s and dismal hymnody.
I love every aspect of it.
Usually.

This year, not so much.
The hymns that typically accompany my journey's start were not a part of my day, which I really cannot blame on anyone but myself. I do work at a church, play the piano and own 30 hymnals. But somehow I did not get to that place I expected to launch from. My intentional stillness was amplified by a blazing head cold that left me flat in bed without any motivation toward any sort of contemplation. Even more not like me.

And then this song got stuck in my head. Give it a listen.

And suddenly, in the quiet of this evening, I'm beginning to get it. A favorite pastor of mine said in her sermon tonight something to this effect: We repent on Ash Wednesday because God longs for us. Not the other way around.
Perhaps all my intentional "remembering" of my mortality and creative lentenizing was getting in the way of where my focus needs to be, on a restoring relationship with the God who has a place in his heart for me.

I'm going to leave it there for a bit.
Lenten blessings to you.