When I Make God Small

When I stand at the edge of the ocean.

Or look out the window of a plane.

It's easy for me to remember.

God is big.

And I am small.



But many times in my life.

When I'm in the routine of my day to day.

When my week ahead is all I see.

And I'm all about my plans.

What I want to do.

How I feel.

What I see.

Without even being aware of it.

I make God small.



It's in those times.

He's limited to my life experiences.

And my point of view.

He definitely needs my help.

I jump in and work things out.

And then.

Ask for his okay.

I see things through the lens of me.

The universe.

Is most definitely.

Revolving.

 Around me.




When I make God small.

I loom big.

So does my place in the world.





Thankfully.

He's patient.

And good to me.

It only takes a shift.

In my circumstances.

Or a disruption in my little world.

And then I see.

Oh, yeah.

Now I remember who you are.

You are God.

And you are not small.



You raised the Tetons.

 And filled the oceans.

You know the heart of every person on the planet.

And you've seen every generation pass through since the beginning of time.

But in a more personal way.

You've allowed me to know you.

During hardships.

And prayers.

Some answered.

And others not.

You've provided for me in a million different ways.

And made sure.

I always knew.

You care.



I may forget sometimes.

But.

Thankfully.

It's not for long.

And you wait patiently on me.

When I.

Make you small.

Room for the Davis's

They came home.

All six of them.

For ten weeks this summer.

Home from a full year of serving in Nairobi.

They are close as family to us anyway.

And we had plenty of room to spare.

Twelve suitcases rolled in that first night back.

A borrowed twin mattress was walked down the street from a neighbor.

And brought upstairs.

They were a sight for sore eyes.



The Davis's were in and out all summer.

Catching up with their families and friends.

Telling their story countless times.

To churches.

And groups.

And supporters.

Making sure the kids had time to just be kids.

Swimming, camping, beach trips, fast food, fun.

And hopeful God would provide what they needed.

Before it was time for the return back.



And.

It was no surprise to me.

At all.

That He did.

I'd love to share all the details.

Of how it all unfolded.

But, it's enough just to say.

He came through.

Boy, did He come through.



One donor covered school fees.

So the Davis kids could attend a safe, private, Christian school.

Another heard their story.

And provided for a much needed used car for them to get around.

Donations were given to support the orphanage and the children where they serve.

For beds and provisions and care.

Support came from everywhere.

Churches, and groups and people saw what we did in them.

Something quite special.

Something you don't see very often.

Not perfect people.

But people who live out what they believe.

With guts and backbone.

No pretense.

No religious mumbo jumbo.

Just the real deal.

The very real deal.

We made room for the Davis's this summer.

All six of them.

And when they flew back.

The twin mattress got walked back down the street.

To it's owner.

Borrowed vans got returned to Molly & Glenn.

And Danee's sister.

Family and friends settled back into a familiar, long distance relationship.

And the Davis's.

Went back.

Encouraged.

Provided for.

Loved.

And with certainty.

Which is a really good thing to have.

If you'd like to support LJ & Danee Davis as they serve in Nairobi, Kenya in the coming year, use their paypal account to give securely online:

paypal.me/davismovetokenya

or mail a check to LJ Davis, c/o The Dublin's at 8 Bonner Street, Due West, SC 29639.    I'll make sure your donation is deposited directly into their account.

You can also follow the Davis's on their facebook page: Danielleandlj Davis.

Pray for them this year.   LJ, Danee, Sonoma, Bob, Garrett & Alizah Davis.

They've got a lot of work ahead of them.

On Turning 60

"....It's only a number...."

Said to me by reassuring friends.

That are already.

Over 60.

"....It's all downhill from there..."

Said to me by a never encouraging younger brother.

"...You've never been more beautiful..."

Said to me by my husband.

(I know.)

He's ridiculous.



And.

Even this morning.

As the weekend of my 60th birthday approaches.

Jesus seemed to weigh in too.

In His usual.

Personal way.

I'm reading through Psalm right now.

And this morning,

Here's what He had for me in Chapter 92.

"..14:  even in old age they will still produce fruit;
they will remain vital and green."

(He has such a sense of humor!)



I know I'm not old.

But somewhere.

In all that I've heard and read.

About turning 60.

Is how I'm taking it in.

For me.

It's like approaching the curve on Fortner Mountain where I grew up.

I can't see around the bend.

It's hidden.

And a bit of a mystery.

I'm not sure what 60 will look like.

But I know who I am.

And I know what I believe.

I have people around me that love and care for me.

I'm healthy.   And strong.

I hope to keep my hands open.

Even when it gets hard.

To give.

And to receive.

Whatever He has for me.

And I hope.

60 brings me a fresh appreciation.

And even more gratitude.

For the things I hold close to my heart.

To live intentionally.

Every single day I have.

Focusing on what's important.

With peace.

And joy.

To be a voice of encouragement.

And strength.

In a world that often is not.

To love.

And to be.

The very best me.

That I can be.

Turning 60.

Grab Your Pen!

I grab my pen!

(That may be a generational thing.)

Although.

I do sometimes grab my phone.

To jot it down.

Before it slips away.

The thing is.

I'm finding.

When I build in the space.

Quiet space in my day.

Driving into work.

In the early morning with a cup of coffee.

Just to be still.

And listen.

Without distractions.

He will drop thoughts.

Ideas.

Answers to questions.

Solutions.

Inspiration.

Direction.

Into my thoughts.

If I'm asking.

I saw it happen this week.

More than once.

I needed the right words.

For an issue that was troubling me.

I needed to know how to handle a situation.

That I didn't have the answer for.

I provided Him some space in my morning.

In my quiet time.

In my living room.

Just to be still.

And He dropped His guidance onto me.

Like that one drop of rain.

That rolls off the overhead roof.

Just as you duck in the door.

Not in a mystical or wonky way.

But clear and direct.

Simple.

There's no way it came from me.

I was asking.

And He gave it to me.

For me.

Having God be so personal.

To give me the solution....the answer I needed.

Man!

I loved it!

I literally jumped up.

(Or in the instance when I was quietly driving into work,

 I reached for a pen in my bag.)

To scribble down what I felt Him say over me.

There it was.

By just giving Him space.

To be quiet.

To listen.

And be ready to grab my pen.

BeeBee

I didn't know what it would look like.

When I became.

"beebee."

But.

I took one look at this little man.

And though I had no idea.

What I was in for.

He.

Stole.

Me.

Heart.

And soul.

I become silly.

And light.

Completely in the moment.

In his company.

We run.

And skip.

And sit in the swing.

We hold hands.

And laugh.

And sing.

We make up stories.

About cowboy Amos.

Lassoing alligators.

And going on adventures.

With his trusty pup-pup.

We take naps.

And test the patience of the cats.

We eat popcicles.

And make lots of Facetime calls.

But.

The best part.

Of all.

The surprising part.

Is the love.

He gives to me.

His beebee.

It's been simple.

And sweet.

Pure.

And unexplainable.

This love I have for him.


It came.

Out.

Of no where.

And.

It's been the easiest thing.

I've ever.

Done.

Pause

This word.

I'm learning the importance of it.

He's teaching me.

To.

Pause.

Pause before I react.

Pause before I decide.

Pause before I speak.

Pause before I move forward.

Pause.

And give Him time.

To move.

Give Him space.

To work.

In the situation.

That's it.

Just.

Pause.

A Family Raised on Camping

I'll never forget the first time I stepped into a camper!

I was 40.

And it was love at first site.

We made our maiden voyage in 2000.

Kate was 14.

Taylor was 7.

Our camper was a 16' Jayco Kiwi.

A travel trailer with canvas ends that folded out.

We woke up after a great night's sleep by the lake.

I looked up to see tiny bird feet walking across the canvas over my head.

That's when I knew.

I was hooked!

Those were wonderful years for our family.

Weekends in the spring and fall.

Summer vacations at Huntington Beach.

Bacon frying on the griddle outside.

Pancakes and syrup on a paper plate.

A campfire to knock off the chill of the morning.

A hot cup of coffee.

Being outdoors.



It was often.

Sandy feet tracked in and out the door.

Towels hung up outside.

It was.

Steamy bath house showers.

And occasional not so steamy ones.



It was.

Going to bed with the dark.

And often getting up with the light.


It was.

Building campfires.

Poking the burning logs with a stick.

And talking.

Sitting around the fire.

Having conversations we might never have at home.

It was.

Being up close and personal with wildlife.

Nightly racoon visits.

Squirrels, snakes and birds.

The sounds of the ocean or the lake.


It was.

Sliding down inside your sleeping bag.

Laughter.

Giggling.

And talking after the lights went off.

In the early days of camping.

There were no phones.

Not even a TV.

The pace slowed down.

We rode bikes.

We walked the beach or campground.

We read.

One summer at Huntington Beach.

The four of us read thirteen books in a week!



There were.

Alligator sightings.

Bicycle rides.

Trips up to camp store.

And walks out to the marsh.



Pulling our camper across the causeway at Huntington Beach.

Was like coming home.

It was a wonderful way to spend time as a family.

And.

The years passed.

They always do.

But our camping continued.

Through middle school.

High School.

College.

And after.

It become a constant in our family.

A place of good memories.

Things familiar.

Good.

Comforting.

Yep.

All of our favorite things about camping.

Stay with us today.

We didn't have a lot of money back then for vacations.

But we never felt cheated in anyway.

We raised our family on camping.

Looking back.

I'm so glad we did.