Monday, October 31, 2011
A Sound Among the Trees
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Those days were long and dark. Hours spent in sorrow. The time I cried from my house to my in-laws, twenty-five miles away. The time I went running from a friend’s house, fumbled for my keys and shook all the way home. In my living room I collapsed in tears.
Over and over it happened.
I would pull myself together, lecture my emotions, fight my sorrow…and end up beaten and bruised and heartbroken.
I can’t tell you how long I hid the truth from myself. The time blends together. Maybe it was a year. Maybe more.
There is one thing I can tell you though. God didn’t leave me there.
In case you haven't noticed, I'm in the process of switching to wordpress. (www.nmetzler.wordpress.com) Take a minute to update your "follow" list! Thanks!
Friday, October 21, 2011
When we first got our cows- milking took all of my mental focus to accomplish.
How to make sure everything in the milk house is ready so the milk goes into the tank and not onto the floor. How to hold the milker-unit just right so it wouldn’t break suction. How to work efficiently enough to make sure there are cows washed and stripped before its time to put the milker on. How to plug everything in. How to tell if a cow has mastitis. How to tell if a cow is ready to freshen. How to stand so that if it kicks, it won’t get you.
The list goes on. I’m sure you understand…there was a lot to learn and remember. At the beginning we had three milking units. Between my husband and me, it took all of our energy to keep up with them.
But things change with time. You learn patterns and efficiency. Things that once took all your focus become second nature.
This morning as I was standing in the middle of the barn, waiting for the [now] four milkers to finish, I thought about how different things are. In between changing units, I get on facebook with my cell phone. I read blogs. I text people or call them. If my husband is around, I have time to talk to him or steal a few kisses. I have time. Time to be and know and connect and think. [To read the rest of this post click here]
Monday, October 17, 2011
[I hear His voice] whispering through every Scripture and into the intimate details of my own daily experience- for it is his life he is breathing into me, and my life he wants to redeem. –Greg Paul
Yes, Lord Jesus. Come speak to us now... redeeming, breathing life. Amen and Amen.
Want to take a mini-walk through Narnia? Visit here.
Need a new perspective on a difficult relationship? Read this.
Don't forget to be praying... for Katie in Uganda.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
It happened the way it always happens. Ever since, well, a long time ago. I walked in, looked around for a familiar face. Searching for the spot where I will feel the most special, the most loved, will laugh the most…
Then the inevitable. “We have a place over here…” And once again I’m led away from the ones who make me feel safe. Once again I’m sitting at a table with people that I don’t know.
I lean over and whisper to my husband, “I hate this…” and he smiles that sad smile. The one that says, “I would change the world to make you happy, but I can’t.” So I sit back and look around and no one smiles and no one says, “Oh! I want you! Come here!” Instead I sit alone.
Then in the midst of my jumbled confusion I hear the voice. The one that I’ve trying to memorize the sound of. An hour each morning and an hour each night, I run my eyes and fingers over the words, listening so hard. Searching for inflection and thoughts.
“Embrace where you are.” He says it quietly and I know that if I hadn’t been working at listening, I would have missed it. But I hear it.
What did I have to lose? So I sat back. Breathed deeply, looked at the lady across the table from me and smiled, entering into a conversation where I felt awkward and insecure.
A few minutes later another woman entered the room. She wasn’t like the women around me who were laughing and telling jokes in private circles. She was alone. And because of a strange set of circumstances, I know some of her inside things. The pain that is trying to strangle her. So I stood and walked and smiled and talked. And for a moment I glimpsed something beautiful.
And it starts a chain reaction. Person to person I move. Talking. Not chatting but real talking. Opening and showing and being. And His voice gets louder and my flesh burns. And I see beauty.
It’s in the girl with the crooked smile who is serving my dinner. The woman across from me who is searching so hard for acceptance. The ladies to my right who lean over to each side of me and cover me in grace. In the tears of a friend who is sharing her heart- right there, in the middle of all these people.
Then the truth hits. It really isn’t any of them. It’s Him. It’s me having my eyes open to Him. And I see His reflection all around.
I look up in time to see the bridegroom sweep his bride off her feet and into his arms. Everyone laughs and cheers.
And I remember times when he was ready to give up- ready to settle for something less than beautiful- and my heart aches at the joy on his face as he looks down at his new wife, the fulfillment of so many dreams. My childhood friend has grown up to be a man worth knowing.
And I remember a time when I was ready to give up. Ready to settle for something less than beautiful. And my heart aches with joy. That my King should be so gracious to me, so loving, so patient… someday, someday, when all this flesh is burned and gone- Oh, God, let the things that are left be worth knowing.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
the blood was thick and deep red. almost purple. my skin crawled. my heart ached. I looked up at the man standing in front of me, the man who had just pronounced death to my Savior. “someday you will realize what you’ve done and you’ll wish you had died in his place.” my voice caught as tears spilled and burned paths down my cheeks.
the crowds grew louder. I turned and looked. he was wearing a purple robe, thorns on his head. his face was bloody and I knew that under the robe his body was beaten and raw. I started running, calling his name. “Abba, my Abba…” I stopped short of throwing my arms around him. I knew it would cause him pain.
he didn’t stop. he drew me close, even as his face contorted in agony.
“I’m sorry, Abba.” I whispered into his neck. “I don’t know what to do. I’m sorry.”
his voice came then. rushing and running like a river. “I’m making all things new. Go, tell them.”
I looked up at his face. he was looking past me toward a field that sat below Golgotha.
I saw them then. hundreds of children playing in the shadow of a cross.
“Tell them, daughter,” he whispered in my ear, “tell my loved ones that I am making all things new.”
I woke up from that dream back in 2004. I was attending Bible School at the time and we had gone as a school to watch The Passion. That night I couldn't sleep even though I had watched the movie with eyes covered. I finally prayed, "God, let me sleep... I need to get up for school tomorrow." And that night I dreamed.
I had found my passion. It might have been a dream but it wasn't just a dream. It was God speaking. And anytime I close my eyes I can see them. The children playing in the shadow of a cross.