by Victoria -

Of quests and adventures, journeys and grace

Now available for pre-order and immediate ebook access at Amazon and Barnes & Noble:  Through Cracked Glass – Grace for God’s fractured and imperfect children, was written with you in mind.

Was it really less than a year ago now? No, the substance of Through Cracked Glass had been simmering in my sub-conscious for years like pot roast in a slow-cooker filling my home with tantalizing smells of wonderful meals to come.

Every morning we awaken to an unsullied day and doors opening on fresh experiences. We walk out into that new promise with fearlessness and abandon, not knowing what’s just down the street, not seeing who’s waiting in the wings to send us off in a whole new direction, suddenly swept off our feet to an unknown place where we may never see the old us ever again. We become, over time, newly-born, growing in grace and wisdom. Just as our bodies discard dead cells, replacing them with recently developed growth we reinvent our bodies every seven years.

We learn as we are confronted with problems and issues and people. Sometimes we’re pleased with how we handled ourselves. Sometimes we’re ashamed.   But we can try again tomorrow.

The very word ‘journey’ is exciting. As are adventure, quest, and legacy. Each word conjures up distant lands, welcome companions, and life-changing scenes. These are foundational concepts in our favorite stories.

We want our heroes to grow and learn and to be happy. We want ourselves to do the same. But, just as in the best stories, our heroes don’t grow and learn by living easy lives. No, they earn their growth with struggle and heartache, disappointment and grief. They win some battles and lose others. But they never give up.

And we, the reader, love our heroes all the more for their well-earned scars.

Grace is what we’re all searching for when our hearts are sad and those we depend on let us down. Grace is what God, our Father, gives us in abundance from our first waking moment to our slowed breaths as we drift off to sleep.

He has wonderful things for us to accomplish and an abundant life for us to live. Tough lessons to learn and battles to fight. Places to grow old in, people to love, and grace to shower on others as we follow the path He has set for us.

All we need are eyes to see and hearts ready to embrace this life of service we were designed for.

It’s all for Jesus.

by Victoria -

A Matter of Perspective

I was pretty confident the weather would be comfortable when I picked Labor Day Weekend to fly up to Michigan to spend quality time with Dad. At eighty-two years young, he’s doing well. He still drives his John Deere, uses his weed whacker, prunes the trees, and paints the porch. The medication his neurologist has him taking for his Parkinson’s is effective against the tremors in his hands. He’s still able to do a lot of things. His shoulders are stooped, and his steps are slow, but the smile is the same and so is my love. I cherish each minute I still have with him.

“Hello, sweet thing,” he says with a smile as I hoist my bags into the Tahoe. “How was your flight?”

He’s been watching old western re-runs lately, so I knew I’d be taking in some interesting movies. Obvious plot lines and mediocre acting, coupled with old-fashioned hairdos, made the women look decades older than their years. Definitely entertaining, though. The scenery was spectacular, although quite dusty. There was a lot of shootin’, and ridin’, and dyin’ going on. And tons of American tenacity and ingenuity.

Our thing is trying out new restaurants when I travel up to see him. It’s always an adventure. I love that Dad is willing to embrace new experiences at his advanced age. In one restaurant, he couldn’t appreciate the loud music, so he turned down his hearing aid, and that took care of that little annoyance. I told him he should write up a food review and send it to the local newspaper’s editor from each restaurant we discover. He got a good laugh out of that one.

Dad recently got himself his own Jitterbug smartphone and it makes me smile watching him google a you-tube video or send a text. He keeps it in his shirt pocket.

The house Dad built, a raised ranch with a walk-out basement, straddles two one acre lots. One side of the long driveway is flanked with mature maple trees that glow like orange and yellow banners in the fall. I still remember when he planted the young saplings over twenty years ago. Now, their mature canopies cast welcome shade. The back half of the property is now home to a small copse of more maples he had decided about seven years ago to let grow as they sprouted up, struggling to be seen above the unmowed grass. He made up his mind one day to keep the entire two acres manicured, after letting the back portion go native for years. When he discovered the little saplings, he carefully mowed around them. When they had grown to about my height, I took the pruning shears to them shaving off the little suckers growing from the trunks and lopping the low hanging branches.

He now has his own personal park needing only a picnic table and swing-set to complete the pastoral scene.

We walked the perimeter while I was there, and I took pictures of the hickory trees, chicory, sweet peas, goldenrod, day lilies, and queen ann’s lace. It’s all a matter of perspective. I choose and frame one subject, getting in close so all you see is what I want you to see. The big picture is nice, but nothing spectacular. I think you only see the extraordinary beauty when you get up close and focus on one living plant.

God beautifully made each flower and weed and leaf, breathing intricate details only visible when you come near.

I get distracted by large crowds. The cacophonous noise fractures my thinking. But when I single out one person to know, as my camera lens zeroes in on the delicately unfurled petals of blue chicory, I see beauty and am enthralled by its complexity.

Each human being is a work of art. We need to take the time to focus.

by Victoria -

Jaw-cracking and Peace-making

My most recent chapter – here’s an excerpt for your edification.

Our Belgians’ hooves kicked up miniature dust clouds as they walked in the corral. These were sorrel-colored work horses the size of Clydesdales, but without the ‘feathers’. The warm summer day was bright and windless. I was working in the stuffy barn, perspiration stinging my eyes, mucking out the stalls surrounded by the sweet smell of alfalfa hay and the pungent odor of horse manure. One of our barn cats was nursing her newest litter of mewling kittens on a pile of fresh straw, their tiny paws kneading her sides as they filled their bellies. Dale, a gelding, our mare Katie, and her new foal, Kip, were outside in the fenced corral attached to the barn stretching their legs, their tails constantly flicking flies off their sweat-shined coats.

Kip was a brand-new foal of just a few days. I had watched his birth, commiserating with Katie during her labor, for I was acquainted with that kind of pain. I could see it in her eyes. At Katie’s final push, Kip slid out still encased in his amniotic sac and as soon as his tightly curled up body touched the dusty ground, the sac split neatly from his head to his hooves. His chest heaved, he opened his eyes, and struggled to stand, all wobbly on his knobby knees, his legs trembling, breathing deeply of the life-giving air.

After just a few days he was trotting around outside with his momma, growing stronger every day. After taking care of my chores in the barn, I walked outside and witnessed a sight I’ll never forget.

Dale was bullying Kip and had just nipped him. As I exited the barn, I saw Kip attempting to get away from the much bigger horse. It seemed only a fraction of a second. Suddenly Katie was there in all her motherly indignation, whinnying, forcing Dale into a corner of the corral. Katie ran circles around him, making terrifying noises, while the dusty earth boiled up around them both like smoke from a furnace. She got him cornered, his rear to the rails, turned her back to him and swiftly kicked him in the jaw with both back legs twice in succession with lighting speed and deadly accuracy. A horrific crack reverberated in the air, then she calmly trotted off to join her baby.

Dale stood there for a long time his head hanging down, clearly in a lot of pain, embarrassment in his very stance.

This scene of maternal protectiveness scored itself deeply into my memory. Kip stood safely off to the side while his momma kicked butt, or jaw, as was the case. She did what it took to protect her baby. Dale never bullied Kip again.

The picture of boiling dust, a screaming horse, and justice swiftly served was how I viewed my periodic times of conflict. I was Katie, delivering justice. But for me, I wasn’t protecting anyone but myself. I had felt alone for most of my life and the only one sticking up for me was me. It was a lonely feeling.

I had something happen recently to put a new spin on this for me. It seems I’ve been meting out justice for myself unnecessarily. I had the picture all wrong. I wasn’t Katie. I was Kip. And God was telling me through the wise counsel of my older son that He would be doing any kicking needed this time.

Have you been taken advantage of? Lied about and lied to? Expected to ‘take it’ and go along to get along? It sticks in your craw, doesn’t it? My fighting instincts take over and I’m ready to kick them in the jaw and make them behave. Some things in life are black and white. Right or wrong.

My prickly personality comes out in earnest as I feel I’m fighting for my life. I don’t back down and I don’t give in. However.

“A man’s wisdom gives him patience. It is to his glory to overlook an offense.” Proverbs 19:11

Jeremy reminded me that my job is to be salt and light, not make sure I’m always treated with the respect I deserve. Learning how to defuse a situation and speak words of edification coupled with compassion is needed to live the life God desires of us.

Remember the fruits of the Spirit? It’s not always convenient to think about them is it? “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law.” Galatians 5:22-23 (ESV)

I love the opening paragraph in the Preface of Ken Sande’s book The Peacemaker. “Peacemakers are people who breathe grace. They draw continually on the goodness and power of Jesus Christ, and then they bring his love, mercy, forgiveness, strength, and wisdom to the conflicts of daily life.”

There’s a fine line between enabling bad behavior, because I’ve certainly been there, done that, and stepping back and allowing God to use you to handle a situation with eternity in mind. That may mean submitting under God to be taken advantage of. What’s the difference, you’re wondering?

That’s an excellent question and I’m not sure I have a clear answer. I think motivation has a lot to do with it. What is my motivation for cracking someone’s jaw? What is the bigger picture? Who is watching this all play out? Will Christ be honored by my behavior? Will a weaker brother or sister, or an unbeliever be hurt by how I handle this?

These are important questions and wisdom is called for.

I need to breathe grace.

I stepped back, did a lot of praying, and responded calmly and without anger. I felt I needed them to at least understand my point of view, remembering to attack the problem, not the person. Trying to find a win/win so everyone can walk away happy with the outcome. And now, I leave the decision to God.

In the past, Katie would come out in me. The dust would rise like smoke from my harsh words as I pushed with them, choosing each word carefully like David did the stones he placed in his sling. Verbally shoving them against a wall until I got what I wanted without regard to any damage being done to the relationship.

But that’s not the way Jesus wants me to be.

I encourage you to take the time to slowly and prayerfully read Matthew chapter 5 and tell me I was right in going on the attack. Tough words to read, aren’t they?

“Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy.”

“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God.”

“You are the salt of the earth, but if the salt has lost its taste, how shall its saltiness be restored?” “You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you, do not resist the one who is evil. But if anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also. And if anyone would sue you and take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well. And if anyone forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles.”

My testimony must remain intact. My motivation must be pure.

Remember I’ve said before that our time here is to train us for eternity? Hebrews chapter 12 is a powerful exhortation on how we should conduct ourselves.

Here’s just a few verses: “Consider him who endured from sinners such hostility against himself, so that you may not grow weary or fainthearted. In your struggle against sin you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding your blood. And have you forgotten the exhortation that addressed you as sons? ‘My son, do not regard lightly the discipline of the Lord, nor be weary when reproved by him. For the Lord disciplines the one he loves and chastises every son whom he receives.’ It is for discipline that you have to endure. God is treating you as sons.” Hebrews 12:3-7

Being a child of the Most High God is an awesome, incomparable privilege and I am thankful for human angels God has placed in my life to remind me of whose I am and the important work I need to be about.

Stay focused on eternity. Work on resolving conflict with patience and compassion. If there’s to be any jaw kicking, let your Heavenly Father take care of it.

Strive to be known as a peacemaker who breathes grace.