Tuesday’s Tickle: Cheerful Tickle

We all need the element of surprise. It is sadly minimized. It feeds the joyful delightful and wonder of the child in us. Stop. Slow down. Read that sentence again. It bares the weight of His Glory if we let it come down onto our shoulders.  A little surprise can wake that sleeping child in you to: play with your children, authentic smile (yes i know you are faking some of those beauties), open teachable hearts to our Father.

Make little surprises happen: a piece of chocolate after a lunch out, a note slipped in your husband’s pocket, a ten dollar bill slipped into that starving college student’s wallet, a little happy to the grocery store clerk!


“Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”  Matthew 18:3

“Live much in the smiles of God” by Robert Murray M’Cheyne

Originally posted on Tolle Lege:

“Learn much of your own heart; and when you have learned all you can, remember you have seen but a few yards into a pit that is unfathomable.

‘The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?’ Jeremiah 17:9.

Learn much of the Lord Jesus. For every look at yourself, take ten looks at Christ. He is altogether lovely. Such infinite majesty, and yet such meekness and grace, and all for sinners, even the chief!

Live much in the smiles of God. Bask in His beams. Feel His all-seeing eye settled on you in love, and repose in His almighty arms.

Cry after divine knowledge, and lift up your voice for understanding. Seek her as silver, and search for her as for hid treasure, according to the word in Proverbs 2:4.

See that Proverbs 2:10 be fulfilled in you. Let wisdom enter into your hearts…

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Petals Of Promise: The Branch

tumblr_lr9h4t9tgr1qhhm8co1_400dedicated to Hope, sit on the step with your Jesus

The Branch

You give me reason to dream.

In the warmth of your cloistered garden, I listen for the sound of your footsteps.

I am tethered to your trunk, the one true vine whose wood is better than any tree in the forest.

It is your father, my gardener, who prunes back last year’s cane growth for new buds to form.

You keep watch over me from heaven.

It is His vision of my shape in your kingdom come.

My barren branch spurs with your love.

Thirsty for your water, I can become like a wild branch whose leaves wither and produce no fruit.  My roots reach into the dampened darkness in search of your love.  My branches turn toward your light and my boughs support healthy clusters of leaves.  At your feet, the heavens grace my leaves with glistening dew.  At your command, the winds direct the eagle to soar and rest it’s wings of power upon my fragile branch.

Apart from you I bear no worth. I am the branch that remains in you. This year’s growth will yield delicate blossoms in light of Your time.  Eternally linked to you, I produce clusters of goodness.  Good soil and abundant water produce in me sweet, delicate fruit. I am created with the desire to live under the shade of your provision. You give joy and purpose to my life.  You are planning a celebration that will quench all who thirst for the full measure of your love.  Your own lips await the cup of your promise.

I will feast with you on the tender grapes and aged wine of your righteousness.

You give me reason to dream.

Genesis 40:9, Genesis 49:11, ,John 15:1, Ezekiel 15:2, Psalm 80:16, Isaiah 24:7, Jeremiah 2:21,Ezekiel 17:6,Zechariah 8:12, Ezekiel 17:7, John 15:5, John 15:4, Genesis 40:10, Ezekiel 17:8, ,Jonah 4:6, Psalm 104:15, Romans 15:29, Matthew 26:29
Inspired in “Tea Time” Prayer Group

We Are Made To Run!

I have a few friends running half and full marathons.  I have great admiration for them, although I secretly confess I worry about what it could do to their bodies.  It might surprise some of you, I loved our PE rotation through “track.”  I was a “short distance” runner… Fifty Yard Dash and Relay Race.  I was pretty fast in elementary school.  I hear you laughing :)

That was a “side bar,” Connie.  I was listening to SC Chapman today… It made me smile :)


“We are made to run in the fields forever.”

Steven Curtis Chapman

Majestic Motion. . .

We have to stop meeting like this. The kids at school might find out. And so I gave into peer pressure. My mother had rocked me long past her ability to carry me to my bed. The comfort in that motion, and being held like that, cradled. . .well, it’s sheer magnificence.

I spent hours alone on my grandmother’s porch swing, entertaining myself with motion. The higher the better. I even learned to lay down and push it with my feet. That swing was my friend.

My cousins and I spent chunks of our days rocking on my Aunt Gay’s and Uncle Bill’s front porch. We rocked so hard and so fast, we would almost rock ourselves right off the porch. We would have to stop and pull the rocker back in place to begin again. We claimed our youth on that front porch.

I’ve invited conversation on swings and rocking chairs, that carried the motion beyond it’s limit, into God’s sacred space.

IMG_3605  My sister Lu and I have walked the beach to find a swing put there, alone, in the sand. If we timed it right we would swing over the in-coming tide and our bare feet tickled by the salt water ruffles.

 The search was extensive. I rocked in every rocking chair and glider in the city, endless practice for love to be set in this motion.  Baby after baby glided into their days, nights, feedings, first books. Every glide went from moment to mile in close embrace. Miles and miles upon miles of motion into momentous love.

A nursery glider was brought home to ease transitions for our little gifts of hope. It never made it to the nursery. It stayed mommy bedside. Swaddled with love, we placed them in to move those pink bundles in rhythm with the pulse of their needs. My love kept a tired hand resting on the rail, to push at slight stirrings or grunts to move each little baby girl into the comfort of a gentle sway of dream washed slumber.

Little legs learned to pump back and forth to look into the sky and how I wanted them to fly. I pushed their little bottoms long after they needed the push, I could inch them higher with my push and the thrill of their precious smiles kept me pushing past the evening light.

The tree, it held on it’s best limb, a tree swing, a rounded wooden seat. The rope had to be replaced several times. Parties and the kids lined up in a long wait to fly through the air on the life of this tree limb. They flew so high, I might turn my head, in fear of a fall. I remember the day my husband talked me into a swing, and I agreed if it was low. I was soon begging for higher and I cherished every child’s soaked moment of delight. The day that tree had to come down, was a sad day in our family life of memories.

Motion is the thing from which life is made.  Take every walk, ride, or swing and claim the rhythm as your own. God set the world in motion, let His Hand turn turn majestic into your world.

Give thanks for motion.

5024980725_2da761d882Swing Pic

Petals of Promise: A Collection of Prose

tumblr_lr9h4t9tgr1qhhm8co1_400Petals Of Promise: Forward

It was a soft day in early Fall. An invitation comes teasingly with the fragrant whisp of wind tickles a deep, life-giving breath. I feel His presence when He brushes my hand with a gentle tug forward. An invitation by my Lord to travel even a few steps with Him drew me inside His pathway. I trailed behind Him, my bare toes almost touching the ivory train that gathered forest lingerings as He walked. There was a delicate sweet scent that linked to a memory of a secret garden where He and I played for hours as a little girl…There was this esquisite pink rosebush that was my favorite.

My Lord named that rose “Princess Victoria.” My memory pondered those talks of scared promises He made to me with the touch Victoria’s fragrance. I was brought back to our moment by flecks of color on the intimate leadings through the forest. Pink rose petals were fluttering out from underneath the trane of His robe velvet-crushed hem just for the feminine bold  touch of faith. I recognized the very petals. My Lord was leading me into my tightly closed bud and the painful process to open the petals fully in the Sonlight. “Lord, the blossoming aches so deeply, I can feel it down into the dark dampness of my most delicate roots,” my cold words of fear melting in the warm cusp of His Hands.  He knew as dusk fell, I could follow His promises by the fragrance to victory.

This was meant to be the forward to a book, a small collection, of prose entitled, “Petals of Promise”  It was inspired by Kathy Drake and her Beloved letters from our Lord. God would give me a petal. I would do light research around a theme and write a letter of prose to my Lord. There are only four in the collection. I don’t know if I can write any more. Tobii is as laborious as it is limited!!!

“Promises” by Sanctus Real