Seeking His Presence

As we approach the Thanksgiving and Advent season, thoughts turn toward Christ's coming to earth. 

Here, in infant lowly lies our Lord and Saviour.

Here, we touch holy ground.

Yet it can all pass us by in the rush and hurry of preparation for Christmas.

Just lately, a distant and distracted air has swirled around me. My mind focused on those things I enjoy to the detriment of those I need to pay attention to.

My beloved is getting exasperated with my M.E brain fog showing up most whenever he asks something specific from me. I hear, respond with scant attention, and drift off again.

Want me to write? No problem {usually}. Want me to listen attentively to instruction/information/give an intelligent reply and opinion? No chance.

And I don't think I'm alone with this malaise. It's also creeping into my relationship with God.

I aim to spend quality time with Him and I find myself clock-watching, chasing thoughts, wondering when I can get a coffee, falling asleep...Zzzz...

Yes, I am always tired, always fuzzy-headed, likely to drift off. Coffee, rest and pacing help a little but fatigue sits ever-present with M.E.

In seeking to write regularly ~ because I love to ~ and wanting so much to engage with the world through social media, I am in grave danger of missing the most important part of life and the point of Christmas too. 

I am not learning to truly listen to my life. Heed what God is trying to say to me through it. In simply going with the flow I've been missing the fullness. 

In the humdrum and ordinary we have potential to experience the pulsating thrum of extraordinary.

To bend ear, mind and heart. To be aware, alert and sensitive to Holy Spirit's whispers on the wind.

He longs to meet with us in the here and now and we pull away to catch the urgent instead of the important.

And I still puzzle over which is which.

Now I sit aware of the struggle and tussle for my time and attention, and I am beginning to sense a need to draw back a little from the everyday.

Christmas itself needs preparation and organising, and ~ most important of all ~ I need to be immersed in God's Presence.

Maybe you do too?

For it is the best place to ready ourselves to hear from Him. Prepare heart and mind. Learn to be attentive. Absorb His words and reflect on them.

Pause and pray.

Listen to God's heartbeat and tune into His voice.

Be immersed in the One who has immersed His life with ours as Holy and heavenly meeting soiled and earthly.

Can you hear Him speaking?

I sense Him whispering close:

"I AM is here ~ 

I am the One who loves you completely and unconditionally.

I am your Comforter in troubles, your Anchor in any storm, your peace in the midst of problems, your Joy beyond measure.

I am your Saviour, Lord and King.

I am for you when all else is against you.

I AM Emmanuel ~ God with you, always"

As we light a candle, remembering Christ as the Light of the World, the wonder of it all hits us anew.

He is here.

And that makes all the difference in the world.

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#graceglimmers

~ Thoughts float as butterflies in my mind and God pins them down in poetry and prose

~ Catching dawn rising and capturing anew the wonder of a day's beginning

~ Delight over the safe arrival of our first grandchild, God's gift of a beautiful boy

~ Being weighed heavy with pain and chronic illness but God giving ability to carry it lightly

~ Family, friends, loved ones, home, hearth, and celebrations to come

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To aid me in the approach to Advent I am reading from 'Christ the Light of the World' ~ A devotional by Thomas Kinkade {which I was blessed to win in a blog giveaway}, and 'Advent Reflections' by Anita Hunt

Ann Voskamp's latest book, 'The Greatest Gift' looks set to encourage and inspire us just the same way as 'One Thousand Gifts' has. It's particularly suitable for the Advent season and beyond. It is a great way for families to share in preparing their hearts for the Christ-child. 

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Linking here with Tracy for Winsome Wednesday

And with Sabrina for the return of #letterto 

This week's prompt is:'Letter to fill you in' where we share what is going on in our world, heart and head right now

The grass isn't always greener

As Autumn segues into Winter all becomes bare, barren and bleak.

Grass scrubby and yellow-patched, lifeless, worn and torn.

Loosened leaves now drift disconsolately on the ground.

Signs of death outweigh signs of life and vitality.

There is little inclination to look enviously upon our neighbour's gardens as we may have done a few months ago. 

The grass is not necessarily greener on the other side.

Yet how often we look askance at our own patchy lives and look with longing, if not concealed envy, upon the lives of others.

If only... haunts our nights and days.

Restlessness ensues and deep dissatisfaction invades. Surely life was meant to consist of more than This?

My life has mirrored those leaves of late ~ feeling like a dry, barren, lifeless husk with some faint semblance of colour, life and vitality within, yet fragile as a crunched and withered leaf.

Though I take heart at those times when creativity sparks more as wobbly wick than steady flame, that a bruised reed he will not break and a smouldering wick he will not snuff out.

It is all too easy to feel dried out inside when we are ill, weak and weary. Pain leaches life and vitality.

Then our art, gifting and writing can seem as arid as leaves on cold ground. Dead. Lifeless. Surplus to requirements.

As Christian writers who believe we have a calling, anointing and equipping to produce a fitting piece of work for the glory of God, how do we (or should we even attempt) to judge what we do?

Is there any value in checking out other voices in one's area of interest, ability and expertise? Perhaps excellence observed may stir a call to excellence within us?

It can often work that way; only sometimes envy, jealousy or discouragement rises instead.

A step back is required. Re-evaluation.

After all, this isn't about you, or Them, or me either.

It's not about talent, success, lucky breaks or the lack thereof.

No. This is about God. Period. His will, His ways, His purposes, His plans are all individual and unique like we are too.

God's anointing and gifting are custom-made to fit our personalities, interests and abilities.

There is no shortage. As writers/bloggers/poets we have a large lake of literature into which we may only dip timid toes as we observe the brave and bold ones cresting the waves or swimming confidently before us.

Yet who's to say what impression our own efforts will leave upon the sands of time?

"We ourselves feel that what we're doing is just a drop in the ocean. But the ocean would be less because of that missing drop" ~ Mother Teresa

You and I may feel we're just paddling listlessly in shallow waters, but we still make a ripple if not a huge splash.

Believe me, my friend, your output is not lost in God's eyes. He sees and applauds the effort in all areas, the faithfulness, prayers, sacrifice of time and energy.

You are not invisible to Him in your seemingly small corner and any work surrendered to Him is multiplied at His hands, for one person plus God is a majority.

And God will use every crumb you produce. He'll ensure you get noticed, your words and thoughts will reach their intended audience ~ be it a handful or thousands.

And He'll bless it all abundantly from here into eternity.

Your part ~ and mine ~ is to brave the chilly waters and dive in, knowing His arms are ready to catch, support and hold us safe.

That other artist/writer/blogger/poet/colleague you admire and aspire to be won't look, work, sound or express themselves like you. They won't have the same history, background or experiences of life or faith.

You may as well compare chalk and cheese, apples and pears, soft and hard.

It's the differences we enjoy. It's the differences that make them fit for their purpose.

So you can 'go compare' other things if you wish, (including markets and meercats) but please don't do that with your writing, gifting, talents. That way lies sadness and madness.

Comparison is the thief of joy and who wants to lose any joy? I know I don't.  

It is really hard for me to let my own words sink in and truly believe and receive them. My background made negativity and insecurity a way of life for many years.

Now, I am determined to seize whatever blessing God has got for me. And that means not allowing myself to become derailed by discouragement or cut short by comparisons.

I want to breathe easy, inhale and exhale grace, live free from insecurity, anger, jealousy, bitterness and resentment. 

But I cannot do any of that without seeing the danger zones and making sure I live as close as possible to God's will for my life, seeking a daily supply of His grace, refreshment and strength to keep me 'lively' for His purposes.

Will you join me? Only you can do the best job of being you by God's grace.

We can encourage one another on this journey.

You are already special, loved, chosen by God to do great works He prepared for you to do.

You count ~ far more than you'll ever know.

You matter ~ to God and to others.

You are beyond compare.

**Confession** ~ This has taken me a few weeks to write due to several health challenges. And as I was preparing the draft for it I read several beautiful blog posts on a very similar theme. Oh dear! Immediately, negative thoughts invaded peace of mind. What could I write after reading THIS?

God answered with these words which I hope and pray will bless you too:

 "it doesn't matter what someone else has written, however good it is. The important thing to remember is this ~ your way of expressing yourself, writing style and reachable audience is unique to you. And there is more than enough room for multiple voices. Each one will say or do things differently but in the way i intend them to. Your task is to remain faithful to that calling".

Linking here with Jennifer and Emily

Surrendering

She slid softly into an empty seat, barely raising her head or risking a glance around her.

Trying to look invisible while wanting to be noticed.

Eyes gradually roamed surroundings clinical yet suggestive of homely warmth. 

Here a comfortable chair, there a magazine, walls decorated with gentle art work to please the senses, floor carpeted.

Yet the scurrying, uniformed figures, cold steel trolleys, slabs of notes, trays holding equipment for testing ~ all betrayed the fact that this was actually a hospital waiting area.

We were captive to clock and schedules, time and tide of their convenience, malleable only to moulds of their design, clients of their care, patients feeling anything but patient.

Brief nods and smiles were exchanged before confession followed. First time? Me too. Waited how long? Oh dear!

What to do. Would there be time to drink a sip or two of water, open the Kindle and lose oneself in a book, check our phones (ignoring the 'switch off please' signs), rummage in bags, sigh, dream, chat, or....simply yield to the moment.

So we sat as statues. Brief shuffling, turning of heads to scan notices, gaze at our feet, read notices for the umpteenth time, whispered conversation, eyes glued to every individual who might be here to summon us into the depths.

How does one yield gracefully when senses are heightened to alert and alarm? How do we savour the moment when anxiety is high, pain presses in hard and minds are switched to numbness? 

I found myself focusing on a painting. Golden yellow rays spilling as fountain reminding me of the sunshine of God's love and how His grace spills and fills every corner of our lives.

My desire is to bask in its warmth. Seek energy and strength for what might lay ahead.

As I visualised those rays washing over me, peace came. I could hold conversation. Act normal. And maybe that's all God asks of us. To let Him in to everything and realise He's already there.

Abiding. Clinging to The Vine. Accepting where we are on the way to where we're going. 

Release and find rest. Sink trustful. Know we are safe. Kept. Held. Anchored.

I wondered how pliable I was. This woman who wakes stiff, limbs resistant to movement.

Would my soul yield soft as clay to The Master Potter's touch on my life ~ be it unpalatable or not? 

How willing am I to receive, accept and surrender to the thought that all things are allowed by Him ~ even This?

In the bowing down we look up to God's higher authority, His all knowing, all seeing, all encompassing ways. 

And it is a willing, meaningful yielding. Acknowledgement of His sovereignty.

My eyes shift again to view images of coffee cups and beach huts. Here too we see goodness and grace. Lift our cup of sorrow and joy and swallow down. Know it is as endless as the sea. This balance of beauty in ashes. Shelter from storms.

Voices sounding nearby call me out of my reverie. My name. My turn. My assessment and tests begin. 

Groping for my stuff, struggling to prepare and follow, I smile and wish my fellow newbie well. 

Here I surrender dignity and privacy. Ready myself to be investigated and questioned.

A faint shadow of the Son of Man before the cross stirs in my mind. I see Jesus stripped of all dignity. Giving out. A handing over. Great surrender. Yielding to the Father's will.

Such love. Such grace. Such mercy.

His pain had a glorious purpose. Maybe yours and mine has too, though we can fail to see it. 

A life given up so freely by the Lord of Life, yet I so often cling to my life, time, needs, plans, schedules ~ wary of change and interruption. 

Boxed in by my boundaries when a life of freedom beckons if...I hang loose to the things of this world, this life, and hold fast to the eternal and unchanging promises of God.

A chair wheels me onwards down long corridors. Weary beyond words, I have X-rays, blood tests and help to dress. Yield to those stronger than I. Muse at how I was once the one offering assistance. A nurse clocking up miles a day as I strode purposefully down corridors, tending, supporting, lifting body and spirit by my ministrations.

Now, I sit passive as my husband and others join forces to prepare me for what needs doing. Made to lie low. With hope of being renewed, restored, reshaped as clay into a vessel fit for purpose again, even as God uses me for different things now...praying, writing, listening, being there. 

We make it home and I need sustenance. Bacon sandwich and a cup of tea feel like a taste of heaven. And I rest. Allow peace and grace to fill me anew. Sit quiet for a while away from bright lights and activity. 

Maybe the pain will never end in this lifetime. Maybe incapacity will increase. I don't know. The One who gives grace upon grace to cope knows that.

What I do know is His great capacity in all my incapacities.

How I wish I had another tale to tell and story to share sometimes than the one I am living.

Yet through it all I can bear witness to the tremendous sustaining power of God. Whatever I have given over to Him has been more then repaid, multiplied grace on grace at His hands.

And as I try to follow this path of daily (if not hourly) surrender, my hope is for His Story to be revealed through my own.

I want to yield to Holy Spirit's work in me. I want to see purpose in pain, liberty in a limited life. Being hard, brittle, bitter and resentful is a path I refuse to take.

It all comes down to whom or what we yield to, issues of acceptance, dependence, love and trust.

I want to be able to let go (if need be) of those things I value higher than I should ~ my will, my ways, reputation, comfort, capacity and dreams.

Because in the releasing of all I have considered better, I know my cup will be filled to overflowing with God's best as my will becomes conformed more closely with His.

Let me be soft, workable clay to be fashioned as He chooses. Let me be pliable and flexible. Let me be willing to yield ~ always. Amen. 

Linking here with the lovely Nacole for #concretewords where we write out spirit with a concrete word prompt. This week's prompt is:'Yield'

And with Jennifer at #TellHisStory where we encourage one another by sharing the story God is writing through our lives.

Also linking to Word Filled Wednesday  where women connect to support and build one another up in Christ.

You are very welcome and warmly invited to join in.

To see life and to see it whole

There is such beauty in the everyday.

If we only have eyes to see it.

And the longer I am incarcerated in the house, the more I yearn for sights beyond my four walls.

Even though I detest spiders, shrieking and screaming at their appearance, their webs fascinate me.

Gossamer threads strung pure as pearls with strength belying their fragile appearance. 

Fine silken cords with hooks to ensnare the unsuspecting, creating a web of deception, a hiding-place for the unwary, a chasm to flex and fix its victim securely.

Intricately laced design that delights the eyes even as they scan for the dark horror lurking within. Yes, I can wax lyrical even over a spider's web!

And whenever I have an opportunity, I take a picture and create a memory album of life. Going outside my door is a big event these days. I breathe deep, gulping in air like it's going out of fashion, set my gaze on sky or earth and view it all with new eyes.

As an inept amateur, my shaky-handed shots are far from Pinterest perfect.

But they stir a deep well of appreciation inside. 

Looking back I see seasons shift. Remember brief spasms of sun on my face. Lush green land and bright blue sky. Breeze and clouds moving.

Colour and life in plant and tree. Ducks waddling and canoeists cresting the waves.

Life going on in its own sweet way.

A natural, undisturbed rhythm. Inviting a pause to appreciate the scenes before us.

A constantly changing panorama that shouts out loud, proclaiming glory and a hymn of perpetual praise to our Creator God.

I've spent so long this year in cloistered dark, walled up in my own home like a prisoner of circumstances. Kept bound by chronic illness, pain, and permanent, profound fatigue. 

Sheltered by hypersensitivity aversion to more than minimal light and noise.

Winter beckons and threatens to entomb me further.

I live more from my inner world more than the outer. And it needs a balance. 

We are made to be part of life's rich tapestry and be set apart for God's purposes.

To marry the mundane with the miraculous, linger at ordinary and find the extraordinary, give out to others and see grace abounding, scent the seasons shifting and savour the fragrance of Christ in this world.

We were born to live with one foot in the world and the other in God's kingdom.

One eye on the temporal and temporary and another on the eternal and permanent.

The natural and supernatural worlds interweave as strands in a web; they co-join and coalesce in a cosmic dance.

We are never more fully human and fully alive than when our spiritual senses are attuned and vibrant and our physical senses are alert to the pulse of life around us.

Our lives can feel as web:fragile, holey, gossamer-fine, prone to snagging and snapping, intricately woven yet with power to entangle, strangling potential and promise.

It can be hard to see them whole. We are tripartite beings - soul, spirit and body - all parts that have life of their own and co-exist together, though seldom in perfect harmony.

In trying our best to connect them, seeking to be wholly aware, alert and active in one area as in another, we may be in a place where we see darkly now but clarity and light will eventually come.

I may not have had my feet washed recently or been the recipient of freely given help and kindness from a random stranger showing Christ's servant-hearted love, but I have had my eyes, soul and spirit washed by grace of a different kind.

There is a hunger deep inside for more. 

More of life. More of love. More of grace. More of God.

And even though my life is somewhat limited by having M.E, I want to see through spiritual, emotional and physical eyes, to sense, absorb, capture and record the world around me ~ then paint pictures with my words.

To see life and to see it whole. Then to pass on that gift to others. Wash them with awareness, open eyes and open hearts to be tuned in to God's love surrounding them.

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Regular readers may wonder at the contemplative nature of this post. Though I tend to write that way now and again, it may have sprung from a book I have just read, ('Gift from the Sea' by Anne Morrow Lindbergh), as I firmly believe we are what we read, just as much as we are what we eat. Books impact and influence our lives hugely. 

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How are you currently being impacted by the wonder of  life and God's grace through the world around you ~ maybe through books or images?

Please feel free to share in the comments below.

Linking here with Jennifer at #TellHisStory 

And with Mel for #EssentialFridays

When a cup feels too heavy to bear

Life has a deep well for us to drink from. We have cups of joy and sorrow, pleasure and pain, hope and despair, health and sickness.

For more years than I care to remember (around 25 supplies my ever-helpful brain), I have drunk from the cup of sickness and found it a bitter one to swallow at times, especially as pain and infirmity are increasing.

Harder than the one of sorrow and shame? Maybe not, just different in its unrelenting nature. And human sorrows can be eclipsed by moments of joy and gladness. 

Shame often seeks to shroud and cloak me again, but I can shrug it off with greater success than before. I have a mantle of grace over me that is large enough to cover all. 

Jesus laid aside His divinity to take on the fullness of humanity in a body just like ours. He felt pain, weakness and fatigue. He thirsted, grew hungry, knew what it was to drink a cup of betrayal, rejection, pain and shame as He hung on the cross.

In the garden of Gethsemane He sought to have this cup pass by Him, aware of all it would cost to become the embodiment of sin for us.

He took the cup. He held it close and willingly drank every last drop. For you and for me. Jesus surrendered self in order to release us all from self-driven living.

I have not held a Communion cup for months. Nor drunk its contents. Nor fellowshipped with head bowed, bread crumbled, chewed and eaten, sharing life, sharing grace, sharing hope.

Being housebound has meant church is everywhere, and nowhere specific.

I fellowship by TV, by the Internet, by having only the companionship of my beloved beside me.

Joining in with TV church and missing being community with my home church.

And I feel I am needing to be reminded of that cup once more. Like one parched dry, I seek to gulp down every drop of Christian teaching I can get my hands on.

Soak in all the friendship and fellowship I crave.

But I need more. 

I need the life-blood. I need Christ poured out as drink offering brought to my conscious mind. I need to grasp with hand and heart the sweet communion of saints and all we share as His redeemed.

For Christ gave his life for me. He overcame the darkness so that I don't have to live swallowed up by it any more. I can embrace a life free from shame. Sickness and pain don't fit who I am either, but they will only be finally defeated as the kingdom comes in all its fullness when Christ returns.

We live with confusion. With mystery. With unanswered questions. 

With hope in the midst of helplessness. With light and grace to steer us through shadowlands.

For now, the cup of sorrow, shame and pain willingly swallowed by my Lord is one I want to recognise, hold to me, lift with others in unity, drink gratefully.

In the sharing of our stories, our sorrows and shame, in the voicing of our weaknesses, our frailty, our woundedness, there is a lifting up, carrying of weight, bearing of loads that lighten with many hands to hold and support. A body made stronger by each part being grace for the other for those times when a cup feels too heavy to bear.

There is joy in knowing we are not alone; we have help, we share life, we share pain.

"When you dig another out of their troubles, you will find a place to bury your own" ~ Anon

in time to come we will share the joy of all needs met in Christ.

This may have been a particularly trying phase with the M.E and allied chronic sickness that is my lot, the cup I have to endure, swallow down - yet, I would gladly go through it all again if it brings me a deeper heart awareness of my Saviour's sacrifice.

Our greatest trials have a surprising thread of joy running through them. Our needs drive us to greater dependence on God, and there is fullness of joy to be found in His presence as we rest and become refreshed once more.

I will have better days. I will write more fluently and eloquently. I will think more clearly.

"I won't give up, shut up, let up or slow up" ~ Robert Moorehead

I already have the best Companion of all to bring life to my hopes and dreams, endurance and perseverance through aches and pains, sweet communion of friendship beyond measure. For Jesus drank deep of sorrow, sin and shame so that the cup emptied became a cup of salvation, life eternal and resurrection joy for us all.

We come empty to Him for re-fuelling, dry for refreshing, hungry for the manna that feeds and satisfies, drained and weary for His life-giving energy and grace enabling us to go on for one more day.

So, battle-scarred and oh so weary as I am, I choose to hold my cup, lift it to my lips, breathe deep of His Spirit, imbibe great draughts of grace, and drink...willingly... at least for today.

"God will not look you over for medals, degrees or diplomas, but for scars" ~ Anon

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Have you had circumstances in your life that have been hard to swallow?

What enabled you to endure them?

Please feel free to share in the comments below. I love to read and reply to them.

Linking here with Joan for 'Sharing His Beauty' 

and with Jennifer for #TellHisStory

**NOTE** - I am delighted to announce that the winner of a free copy of 'The Wall Around Your Heart' by Mary de Muth is - Anne Peterson. A copy will be on its way to her as soon as possible. Thank you to everyone who took part.

When walls need to come down

Watching a light of recognition dawn in his eyes, I breathed easy for the first time in days, though I knew we still had a long way to go in our understanding of one another's perspectives.

Pictures from the past were drawn in varied shades and hues. Neither of us saw exactly the same image on the screens of our minds.

As streams emerging from the same Source, we had every expectation of converging together in a river of reflection; instead, we meandered tangentially into rivulets of our own making.

How had we arrived here? Barriers were breaking and walls crumbling before our very eyes.

Conversation crept into those private places where we feared to tread. And I heeded these words, "We tend to wall off our hearts in the aftermath of pain".

The prison we know can feel safer than freedom as its walls close round us with comforting familiarity.

After 38 years wedded and bedded, we were gradually becoming more emotionally intimate than ever before about our sexual intimacy.

While my beloved had viewed our courtship and surrender to one another through seemingly rosy-tinted lenses, I wore such dark glasses they had obscured all truth as he saw it.

Now, I had to refresh my vision and version of events as seen by one who had transferred much of the guilt from the childhood emotional and sexual abuse she received on to the very person she should have trusted most.

I was discovering more about how "we can live in reaction to a negative relational experience and eventually stagnate, or we can ask God to compel us forward to a kingdom goal".

Retreating into my own worldview wasn't helping me to see or accept my husband's. I had to dare risk being wrong, or misguided at least. "When we're hurt we tend to retreat, nurse wounds, or lash out" and I had done all three. 

How would it look to "turn to God in praise instead?" or is that too much to ask of a heart at war with itself? Maybe. Though "eventually we have to choose to move forward".

This marriage had been cluttered from the start. Perhaps now it was time to shift the luggage, send past thoughts and fears packing and begin with a lighter load?

For past relational baggage "should not define us, nor should the pain from it inform the way we interact with or withdraw from others" because it "strangles our ability to live freely today".

As I begin to embrace a fresh perspective, asking God to renew my mind by the light of His word, making a conscious choice to move forward rather than cling to familiar, He is giving me all the grace I need to see things as He sees them - and it is good.

I want to break free. I want to live an uncaged, open-hearted life. To live, love and give as God desires me to as wife and lover, mother (and grandma-to-be), friend and helper to others.

And in the process, "living without walls means becoming more proactive in the way we deal with hurt" which can only serve to aid with healing those broken places in our hearts and lives.

So what are we to do?

With all quotes given here coming from Mary de Muth's just released book, 'The Wall Around Your Heart', I will answer with her words of wisdom:

"If you have a wall firmly built around your heart, ask Jesus, the great gateway, to make a doorway through. He is the gate. He is the avenue leading toward a rich and satisfying life - not a stingy walled-off life".

I have been greatly helped in seeing walls beginning to crumble in my own life since I've read, digested and prayed over this book, asked God to come into the situations and make me willing to allow Him access to all areas.

I am still very much a work in progress, but some way on from where I used to be. My growing awareness of these walls can be found here.

And I long for you to be set free too, my friend. A walled-in life is one of misery and a walling-off from the liberty which Christ died to give us.

"If therefore the Son makes you free, you are free indeed" ~ John 8:36

Because I strongly believe in the reality of being set free in Christ, and the way Mary de Muth's message can aid in the process of becoming free and living a life without walls, I am giving away a free copy of 'The Wall Around Your Heart' here.

All you have to do to be in with a chance is to leave a comment below and your name will be put into a random draw, with the winner being announced here soon after.

To find out more about why Mary wrote 'The Wall Around Your Heart' (speaking from her own and the experiences of others) and why she desires us to live without walls, please click here.

**NOTE** - Having been privileged to read a pre-release copy of this book and be part of its launch team, I can wholeheartedly recommend it on a personal basis.

You can buy a copy here in the UK or if you live elsewhere you can buy it here. It is also available from Barnes & Noble.

Linking here with Laura at Missional Women Faith Filled Friday

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Maybe there are walls in your own life that need to come down? They could be walls of:guilt, shame, unforgiveness, anger, bitterness, resentment, or _____ (fill in the blank)

Could this be the time to co-operate with God and see those walls crumble brick by brick to release you into a more open-hearted way of life? 

A labour of love

I watch the Philosopher move rhythmically with his sleeves rolled up, hands kneading dough with practised movements, swaying and singing loud (considerately wearing his headphones due to my M.E hypersensitive hearing) as he listens to Dragonforce's 'Sonic Firestorm' album.

Faint whispers reach me of 'My spirit will go on' and 'Fury of the storm' blasting his ears, the two tracks conveniently serving as optimum stretching time.

And I marvel yet again at how relatively few minutes hard labour, coupled with several hours of waiting, of course, will give birth to a new rising of heavenly scented, mixed ochre-and-umber-tinged loaves bursting with goodness.

Bread-making is both art and science. A labour of love. A miracle of nature.

Even if he began the craft in an effort to economically appease the fussy particularity of his wife, it has become a real pleasure to him as anticipation mounts over how this batch will turn out.

For it isn't always the same. Much can disrupt the end result. 

On a bad mood day, the bread resists all efforts to come out well as it appears to absorb his feelings or fall victim to neglect and forgetfulness.

A happy day produces happy loaves rising smooth, high and steady, tasting as good as they look.

Isn't that the way things can be for us all?

We have days where our interest, concentration and focus are caught up effortlessly in attending to the Living Bread that is Christ. Such days flow with an ease and grace which feel restful.

And there are others where we are seemingly indifferent and life can treat us much the same.

Yet God's word is our daily food and sustenance,an essential part of a healthy spiritual diet. We grow weak without its nutritious nourishment filling our souls, appearing satiated on the outside yet dying of malnutrition within.

Where are we looking to be filled? Are we reliant on people approval, page views, comments, stats, followers, opinions that resound with our own, compliments, cheering and crowd pleasing?

Are we feeding ourselves on Facebook 'likes', twitter messages, Klout scores, our social media platforms? If so, then we risk facing alternate days of feasting and famine as attention is paid to us, or not as the case may be.

Or do we sit with open, receptive hearts, come empty to the throne of grace, shutting out all else and focusing on God alone as we await our daily supply?

Sadly, not always. I have been sleeping in many mornings lately as M.E and SAD contribute to make me lethargic and sleep heavy. And I was upset at first to miss my time with the Lord that had been carved out since January, 'Jesus Calling', bible, notepad and pen at the ready.

It was more than a habit. I craved and needed this space to feel sane in a world that soon spun me sideways. It didn't feel right to rush headlong into hurry.

And I was all the sweeter to be around for taking that time to spend with God. 

Irritability sits close with pain and fatigue for me.

Even so, God gave me special grace to see that His plan for me on those long slumber days included getting better rest and not to beat myself up over it. 

For I was in danger of making the routine a ritual not to be broken, an idol perhaps.

Then more days passed. I no longer worried if I missed my special mornings with God; after all, He wasn't giving me a hard time over it, was He?

Apathy is a close bedfellow to adaptation. How easily we fall prey to it.

Soon, it became clear... this wasn't about routine, habit, pleasing God or pleasing myself... this was about losing something infinitely precious.

In missing and not making up the shortfall, I was desperately hungry on the inside, hungry for God's companionship, hungry for His wisdom, hungry for His insight and inspiration, hungry most of all for His Love wrapping me close before other things caught attention and closed my mind to Him.

Now, my heart longs to chase after the staff of life as found in Christ. My soul craves Life.

Even as my natural heart's desire may be sleep, more sleep please.... as I seek after God's heart I know all my basic needs will be fully met in Him.

In spite of being able to read the Bible at other times of day, and pray whenever I want to, it can all fall flat for me if I haven't connected with Him before I connect with the rest of life.

Without daily ingestion, manna grows stale, mouldy, hard and crusty.

Our lives revolve around giving out to people and things. It can leave us empty vessels, dry husks of no help to ourselves or anyone else.

How can we give of our best if we lack vital communication with our Life-line, a daily supply of grace, moments spent resting on our Rock, leaning, being strengthened, being nourished in order to break off manna for others?

God will ensure that all is used for His purposes. Not a crumb is wasted.

Next to knowing Him in close friendship and intimacy, all else pales into insignificance and leaves us feeling famished again unless we feast at His table once more.

As yeast bubbles in the bowl signalling new life to come, may we bubble over with Holy Spirit anointing that spills over into the lives of others, and rise as living examples of God's grace and provision to feed, sustain and nourish in every good work.

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Linking here (rather later than intended) with the lovely Kelli Woodford for #concretewords where we seek to write out spirit from the abstract. This week's prompt is:'Bread'. 

You are very welcome and warmly invited to join in.