Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

Cinderella Mom

If you think Jesus would have come into your home that day and not issued a strong rebuke to the head of household, you are mistaken. These words of condemnation have been haunting me for days now. They aren’t all that different than the soundtrack I play in my head on an almost-daily basis. It’s…

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This is 40

I am nesting. On Saturday I emptied the refrigerator. Last summer’s homemade pickles in their jars. The bread ends that seem to multiply on every shelf. The eggs. The milk. The fruit and veggies. All of it sat on the floor or the counter as I carefully removed the shelves and wiped them down with…

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Beauty on the Backroads {or Why I Changed the Name of my Blog}

I’ve heard that life is like a highway. And it definitely seems like that sometimes. The pace of life swirls around me at dizzying speeds. We’re all so busy. In such a hurry. Always somewhere to be, something else to do. I’m a get-to-the-point, get-there-quick kind of girl. I don’t like to waste time on…

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Security

Welcome to the new blog. There was nothing necessarily wrong with the old blog, but I was challenged at a writing seminar today to take the next step. This is part of that process. Before any of the sessions even started, I was blessed by the music. Karen Knight, of Heartsongs Ministries and a Sight and Sound actress, performed a song about Moses and his insecurities. I was moved by her take on the conversation Moses had with God when God called him to go to Pharaoh. She challenged us to let go of whatever security we have, like Moses had to throw down his staff, to show God’s glory. Later this evening, as I was reading through my Bible study lesson for today, I felt God confirming this. The author, Beth Moore, references the parable of the 10 minas in Luke 19 and the vine and the branches metaphor in John 15. From those two passages I gleaned this: God wants to multiply what He gives us, and He wants the glory when we bear much fruit.

So, I’m starting a new journey. “Restarting” might be a better way to describe it. I have no idea where God will take me, but all I know is it’s time to go. I can’t say you’ll see a book with my name on it. I can’t say if I’ll be able to report that I’ve been paid for something I wrote. But I hope to be able to say that I’m spending less time on Facebook and more time putting words on the screen, throwing down what I’ve been clinging to, releasing the power of God to do for my writing what he did with a staff … changing it in a way only He can, bringing Him glory.

I hope to see you on the road.

Like a child

I was sitting on the couch trying to soothe Corban to sleep when Isabelle crawled up next to us, laid down on her stomach, looked me in the eye and said, “I’m my meeting. I’m praying.” Then she put her head down and said something that sounded like, “Dear God, you love you.” Recently, she’s been dancing around the house singing her version of a song that has the word “Hallelujah” in it. And just about every time we leave the house, she thinks we’re going to church or Sunday school.

This humbles me. Having not been raised in this way, I’m continually amazed by her absorption of our faith practices, and I’m thankful that in some way, I must be doing something right. On those days when I don’t feel like a very good Christian (whatever that’s supposed to mean), the whispered prayers of a 2-year-old encourage me.

I thought about how Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me,” and how He didn’t have to coerce, bribe or in any way entice the children to come to Him. They were on their way. It was the adults who hesitated. It’s still us adults who take our time coming to Jesus, whether it’s for the first time for salvation or with our everyday troubles or for whatever reason. I see how easily Isabelle accepts Jesus as part of her life and I wonder, “Why is it so hard for me?”

“I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven,” Jesus told a group of disciples when they wanted to know who was the greatest.

Some days, I ask the same question.

A friend recently shared that her 4-year-old daughter disappeared upstairs for a while, and when she came back down, told her mother that she’d been praying to Jesus.

The kingdom belongs to such as these. Amen and amen.