They Came With Haste

And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, 

and the baby lying in a manger. 

Luke 2:16

Haste: 1. to haste, make haste, hurry

              2. to desire earnestly

It seems like the only time we desire earnestly to spend time with Jesus is when our hearts hurt.  When we really need Him to step up and do something.

The shepherds couldn't wait to see Him.  They couldn't wait to be in the presence of the King.

I can pretty well guarantee that every single day I get in a hurry for something.  Whether it be to cook supper, clean house, get to a meeting, or get to the bathroom.  Smiley face.  While I'm working on one thing, my brain is already two or three steps ahead on the "to-do" list.

That really hit home to me the other day as I was pulling out of Sonic and tossed my straw paper toward the trash can, only to have it land back into my lap.  I had already rolled up my window.  

I mean.

If only I would channel all that hurry into an earnest desire to be in the Presence.  Just to be there because I can, not because I need something or the ache is just too much.  Just to listen and just to talk.  Maybe even to doze a little because I am just so darn comfortable being there.  

To hurry up and get there to slow down. 

To breathe deep.  Or maybe not deep - but just to breathe at all.

Why wouldn't I want to be in the presence of so much peace?  So much comfort?  Why wouldn't I want to get there as quickly as I could every morning when the sun is peeking up behind the barn?

I heard it from lips this week that all she wanted was to be home in the Word.  To be writing down notes from the Word.  That was where her only peace came from.

Back when the girls were little and the big kids were busy and we were going through an average of 15 gallons of milk a week, there would be times when other students would come to talk.  It had been one of those days where the stress level was high and a young lady showed up at my door. Her life was so full of insecurity that she would poke a finger in her throat to try to find significance.  We talked, we cried and we prayed.  As I closed the door behind her that day, I pressed my forehead on the back of the door.  It was just too much.  I could not carry another. single. thing. 

I ran for my Bible and then ran to the girls' play room and jumped up on the bed and started fanning.  Fanning the open Book like I was getting a whiff of a pot of spaghetti sauce simmering on the stove.  I could have been reading in Numbers for all I know.  

I had to have Word.  

I had to get to Peace and to Comfort.  I had to get there fast.

Just like those shepherds.  They had to get to the King.  It didn't matter that they may not have a job when they got back.  They had to get there.

I pray that today the only hurrying we do is to be in the Presence.  Not out of desperation or of need, but of longing.   

Hurry.  Go there quickly so you can slow down.  

A Weary World Rejoices

Every week there is another issue that divides family, friends, and country.  Every week we hear of mommas burying babies, and babies burying mommas.  Sometimes in the middle of all of the turmoil and tragedy, joy is also buried and weariness becomes our constant companion.

Shattered.

That word came across my phone more than once this past week.

I walk past the old organ and see the repaired ornament waiting to go on the tree.  It was broken when it was pulled out of the box.  When I saw the name on the bottom I took it to the "fix it spot" by Michael's chair.  It was ready to go on the tree just in time to take a picture and send it to say that our Father takes our shattering and fixes it.  Repairs it.  Makes it beautiful.  Only the fixer knows it was broken.  Then we become testimony of His grace for all to see.

Homesick.

I heard it in voices of girls wanting their mommas.  Just to talk.  Just to ask.  Just to be.  It doesn't matter that they have their own little ones to take care of.  They never get too old or too wise to need their own.  They wouldn't want them to leave Jesus, but they sure would take an afternoon just to feel arms.

Pushing my grocery cart around the corners was a little difficult because it was so heavy.  A sweet lady asked if I was feeding an army.  Almost.  My kids are coming home.  Then unexpected tears came from out of the blue as I take a wide turn around the aluminum foil at the end of the aisle.  So why am I crying in HEB?

My kids are coming home.

It is so exciting this year to celebrate arms full of baby after several years of emptiness.  We will celebrate a brand new marriage.  We will celebrate a new job and God's provision.

At the same time we will try to make the obvious not quite so obvious.  We will ask the Lord to fill up empty spaces and be quick to hug and quick to laugh.  We will cry together and be giddy together.

We rejoice because He is enough in our weariness.  She told me that with tears rolling down her cheeks.  He is enough momma.  He came as a baby to die as a man and come back as a Savior.  So that He could be enough when the absence hurts.

So we will celebrate and we will grieve.  We will grieve and we will celebrate.

A whole basket full of emotion.

This weary group will rejoice.

Hannah's Song

This is the song Hannah wrote and sang for her daddy at her wedding.


Three screaming baby girls echo through the house

One song from you and It’d be quieter than a mouse

Thank you for everything that you’ve done for me

I can’t express my love, My cup overflows

I love you Daddy

Bedtime songs were sweet, we’d memorize every word

Like ‘The Anchor Holds’ or ‘Papa’s Gonna Buy a Mockingbird’

Sweet dreams filled our heads as angels filled the air

The night ends in double kisses and a prayer

You always put us first that’s true

No matter what the day has put you through

I could never repay you for all that you do

I just wanted to stop a minute and say

Daddy, I love you

Now that we’re growing up, life is getting hard

You’re always there to say just stop and take it to the Lord

Thank you for leading us down the path you do

Another great reason why I’d like to say

Daddy, I love you

Daddy, I love you

Thank you for leading us down the path you do

Another great reason why I’d like to say

Daddy, I love you

Daddy, I love you

A Few from the Wedding

Averi posted several sweet pictures on her blog 

(blog.averiblackmon.com/hugh-and-hannah/), but I

went through and picked out some more of my favorites.

 Rehearsal

 Wedding morning.  Sisters getting ready.

 Brothers coming in to see the girls.

 Dad first look at his girls.

 Family prayer helped get some tears out before the ceremony.

Love this.

 The bride making sure no one even thinks about 

"speaking now or forever holding their peace".

 The song got to her sisters.

 Hannah and Hugh and our other kids Jay and Suzanna.

 Hugh, Jerett and Ty.

 Our other kids.  Keith and Sheri.

My other girl, Marla.  She and Hannah could be twins.

 Photo bomb by Michael and Keith.

 My girls Tab, Kayla, and Vered.

 Great friend to Michael - Jim.

 My Eq. Guinea girl Maria and Cassie, one of her twins.

A Few Pics

There is nothing better in the whole world than having all the kids together at once.  

Cary Ann's wedding was such fun and I took liberties to take some 

pictures of  all the kids together. 

 I am super blessed.

 Twins.  Who would've known?

 The boys closest to my heart.

 Could she be any more beautiful?  No.

 They are crazy about him.

 I am crazy about them.

 She is crazy.

 Aunt love.

 Sister love.

 Love.

 Crazy about each other.

 Crazy about him.

 Head over heels crazy about them.

When I was younger I wanted five boys.  Their names were going to be Heath, Nick, and Jarrod from The Big Valley and Joe and Adam from Bonanza.  Not sure why they were all cowboys.  Maybe because that is what daddy watched.  So now I have my five boys and one day I will get one more.  A bonus.  Who could have known how blessed I was going to be?

Breathing Out Loud

Sometimes in the cold and dark of morning you breathe hard to Jesus, and because you breathe hard you cannot just lay still.  So you move to another room so you won't wake him with your tossing and grab a blanket to pull over your head and continue to breathe.  Out loud.

Breathing out loud.  For them to know God's direction and timing.  To rest in His will and trust in His will, knowing that He always wants the best for them.  That they will listen and be obedient to what His desire is for their lives.

Breathing out loud. For her to find her identity in Jesus, trusting that He will never, ever abandon.  That she will know her worth because of Him and stand firm because of Him.  Knowing, that for the most part, she does know her worth but there are days.

Breathing out loud. For him to remember the strength provided in past and to hold on to that strength for the upcoming days, weeks, months.  That his Father will show Himself strong to Him and bind up the broken heart.

The breath sounds that speak Yahweh from birthing throughout raising are precious to me.  We start and cannot ever stop.  We are needed.  Needed to keep speaking them, breathing them before the Lord.

She is Worthy

'I AM WORTHY!!"

The words screamed off of her blog page.  I don't think it was a proclamation to the world as much as an attempt to convince herself that she, indeed, is worthy.

Just yesterday, hearing "I feel worthless" from one who keeps trying, yet failing in another's eyes.

And then a couple of weeks back, being taught by a little one that sometimes we listen to the wrong voice and sometimes that voice is loud and powerful, but it is still the wrong voice.

Sometimes that voice is a great and strong wind and it tears your heart and breaks it in pieces and you question why you aren't good enough.  Pretty enough.  Smart enough.

But the LORD is not in this wind.

Other times the voice is an earthquake that shakes your very core.  Everything you thought was true was not and you question why others receive their blessing but you can't find yours?  You experience loss and can't find answers so you take the blame, believing you are not spiritual enough.  Wealthy enough.  Fun enough.

But the LORD is not in this earthquake.

Then there are times the voice is a fire and rips through and destroys all your dreams and leaves you devastated and lost.  You believe you could have prevented it if you had only been strong enough.  Bold enough.  Wise enough.

But the LORD is not in this fire.

She was listening to the lies from the enemy.  They were loud and jarring and hurtful lies.

Then after the fire came a GENTLE WHISPER.

There came a gentle whisper and a question:  "What are you doing here?"  She was not made to live in a cave, defeated by the lies of the enemy.  She was made to come out to His voice.

That's how He loves her.  He pulls her close to His chest so that she can hear the WHISPER.  He quiets her with His love.

She is worthy, not because of anything she is or isn't.

She is just plain worthy.

Binding Up

So many with broken hearts.

The shoulders shake, the head hurts from tears dried up but still wanting release.

To the sweet momma who does not know where her daughter is, to the one feeling abandoned.  To the one who knows God's will for her life but is still a bit apprehensive.  To the one who wonders if she can get through sleepless nights and how it is all supposed to work.

He came to bind up the brokenhearted.

Those words have been read probably thousands of times, but yesterday they popped off of the page.  So did the pink ink in the margin explaining the meaning of each word.

Bind up:  to wrap around; cover; envelope; compress; stop

I remembered a time in Snyder when I was coming out of the doctor's office and a young lady was walking up to the window.  She had a blood soaked towel wrapped around the bottom part of her leg.  She told the girl at the window that she needed to see a doctor.  I looked down and saw that the towel had slipped and was no longer covering the wound.  Just by looking at the gash in her leg I could see every time her heart would beat, the blood pumping out and soaking the towel underneath.  She was told to go to the ER, but she had been dropped off and would have to walk.  There was no way she would make it so I loaded her up in my car and drove her over after I pulled up the towel and told her to press hard. 

This is what came to mind when I saw the word "compress".

That is what He came for. 

He came to press hard on the wound to stop the gushing of life with every heart beat.  To stop the pain so you can take your next breath.

Even the pressing hurts, but it brings the healing.  It stops the life from draining. It brings in the next breath when you didn't think it could happen.

I cannot think of a safer place to be than to be enveloped, wrapped up, and covered by Him as He begins the pressing process of healing.

Hold them close, Jesus, hold them real close.